INJUN JOE TO THE RESCUE.
Along in the middle of the night Frank awoke. Again he was overcome by
that strange feeling that some person was near him. Then he felt a
touch, light as a feather, and saw at his side a dark figure.
The starlight came in at the small, square window.
A hand grasped Frank's wrist and gave it a gentle pull. There was not
even a whisper. Merry knew what was wanted.
Without making a sound, he crept across the ground to the wall, where a
timber had been removed from the lower portion, making an opening large
enough for a man to slip through.
Some one passed noiselessly through this opening ahead of him. Frank
followed as silently as he could.
Outside he found at his side the one who had entered the cabin in that
manner. This person lay flat on the ground and moved away with amazing
deftness and silence.
Frank could not follow as easily, but he wormed along as best he could.
In that manner they finally passed to the shelter of some scrubby
bushes.
There Frank found a dark form sitting on the ground.
"Heap all right," whispered a voice. "You no make a row when Joe him
come. Joe he know you be ready if you find feather."
It was Crowfoot, the faithful old redskin.
"All right now. Make um no noise. Foller Joe," continued the Indian.
The old fellow did not hurry. He took his time to crawl along on hands
and knees until they were far from the hut. At last he arose, and Frank
followed his example. They bent low and went on like two dark shadows.
"Can we get out of the valley all right?" asked Merry.
"One man him guard this way to go out," said Joe.
"How do we pass him?"
"Joe know. Leave it to him."
The valley narrowed at last. They slipped along between rocky walls.
Joe's feet made absolutely no sound.
"Stop here," advised the redskin. "Joe him come back in minute."
So Frank stopped and waited. The minute was long. Indeed, it became ten
minutes at least. But the old fellow returned, saying:
"All right. Coast clear."
"What's that?" exclaimed Frank, as they nearly stumbled over a dark
figure, as they were hurrying on again.
"Him guard," said Joe.
"Guard? What's the matter with him?"
"Him sleep."
Merry shuddered a bit, for he fancied he knew the sort of sleep meant by
the old fellow.
Cimarron Bill would receive his answer in the morning. It would be a
great surprise to him, and would please him not at all.
More than two miles had been traversed when they came, in a deep gully,
upon old Joe's horse.
"No keep him so near," said the Indian. "Bring him here to have him
ready to-night. You ride."
Frank did not fancy the idea of riding, but the old fellow insisted, and
Merry finally mounted. So they passed through the silent night, Joe
leading for a time.
"Did you get the package off all right?" Merry asked.
"Him go," said Joe. "No worry."
"Joe, I don't know how I can repay you; but anything I have in this
world is yours. You want to remember that. Take what you want that
belongs to me."
"Joe him not need much. He soon go off to the long hunt."
Frank thought of the time when this old redskin had been his bitter
enemy, when Joe had seemed treacherous and deadly as a rattlesnake, and
smiled somewhat over the transformation. He had won the confidence of
the Indian, who was now as faithful as he had once been dangerous.
"Did you see anything of the one-armed man who was with my pursuers?"
asked Merry.
"No see him after leave you."
"He was sent away to follow you."
"No see him. He no bother me."
Frank was thoroughly well satisfied with the work of the faithful
redskin.
They took turns at riding throughout the night. Three hours after dawn
they came into a large, wooded valley amid the mountains. As they
approached this valley they heard afar a rumbling, jarring sound that
brought a smile to the face of Frank Merriwell.
"The stamps are in operation," he said.
Riding up the valley, through which flowed a stream of water, they saw
reared against the bold face of a high mountain, looking like
ant-mounds, some buildings, four or five in number. In the side of the
mountain opened the black mouth of a shaft.
"Hurrah!" Merry cried, waving his hat over his head. "There, Joe, is the
Queen Mystery, and it is in full blast!"
The Queen Mystery mine was located a long distance from the nearest
railroad, but Merriwell had been to the expense and trouble of having
the very latest machinery brought there and set up. He had in his employ
Jim Tracy, as a foreman, said to be thoroughly capable and reliable.
Only about fifty men were employed in the mine at that time; but Merry
contemplated increasing the force extensively.
There was talk of a branch railroad being constructed to pass within ten
or fifteen miles of the Queen Mystery.
Were the mine to fall into the hands of the mining trust, without doubt
that railroad would be constructed, and it would run direct to Camp
Mystery and onward. The influence of the great railroad magnate would
easily bring about the running of the railroad to suit his fancy.
The mining trust had been completely baffled in its first efforts to get
the best of Merriwell.
Frank was welcomed at the mine, where he made himself comfortable.
Old Joe disappeared within six hours after arriving there. He vanished
without saying a word to Merry about his intentions.
Two days later he reappeared, Frank finding him sitting, in the morning,
with his back against one of the buildings, his red blanket pulled about
him, serenely smoking.
"Hello, Joe!" cried Merry. "So you're back?"
"Ugh!" grunted Joe, as he continued to smoke.
"What's your report, Joe?"
"Bad men heap gone."
"Cimarron Bill and his gang?"
"Joe mean um."
"They have gone?"
"Git out. They go heap quick after Strong Heart he git away."
"Well, that looks as if Bill had given up the fight, but it seems hardly
possible."
"No can tell," said the old fellow. "May come 'gain with great lot many
more bad men."
Frank sat down and talked with the old redskin for some time. Then Joe
was given a square meal, and he ate heartily.
Merry had some business to look after in the mine, and he departed, at
last, with the idea that he would find Joe and have another talk with
him after the business was done.
But when Merry came to look again for the Indian, Joe had disappeared
once more in his usual mysterious fashion.
Merry was not at all satisfied that Cimarron Bill had given up the
struggle. In any event, he was confident that the syndicate had not
given up, and experience had taught him that the organization would
resort to any desperate means to accomplish its purpose.
So Merriwell, having seen that all things were going well at the mine,
set out the following day for Holbrook, in which place he mailed a
letter to Dick, informing him of his fortune in escaping from the
ruffians.
In Holbrook Merry purchased a supply of rifles and cartridges, also
small arms. This stock he had boxed and contracted with a man to deliver
everything with the least possible delay at the Queen Mystery mine.
Having attended to this matter, Merry rested over night and set out with
the first hint of coming day for the mine.
Through the hottest part of the day he rested in a ravine where there
was some shade. Then he traveled again until after nightfall.
The following forenoon found him in a part of the mountains that seemed
familiar. He had diverged somewhat from the regular trail between
Holbrook and the mine.
Riding through a narrow pass, he came into a valley that was somewhat
wooded and had a decidedly familiar aspect. Five minutes later he drew
rein, uttering an exclamation of surprise.
Before him, at a distance, stood an old hut.
It required no second glance to show Merriwell that it was the very hut
where he had been held a captive by Cimarron Bill and his gang.
Frank looked around keenly, but the valley seemed desolate, and
apparently he and his horse were the only living creatures within its
confines.
"The very place!" said Merry. "I wonder how Bill liked my answer to his
proposition. He must have been decidedly surprised when he found me
missing in the morning."
He rode forward toward the hut, having a fancy to look around the place.
As he drew nearer, suddenly his horse plunged forward and fell, while a
shot rang out.
Merry had seen a puff of smoke come from the window of the hut. He
managed to jerk his feet from the stirrups and drop to the ground behind
the body of the horse, where he lay quite still.
The animal had been shot through the brain, and it did not even kick
after falling.