MERRIWELL AND BIG MONTE.
As he lay behind his stricken horse, Merriwell pulled his rifle around
and got it ready for use. Peering over the body of the animal, he
watched the hut.
The sun, which was dropping toward the west, was still decidedly
uncomfortable. It blazed upon him with a feeling like the heat from a
bake-oven.
Frank knew his peril. He knew better than to lift his head high and give
his hidden foe another chance at him. He could not jump up and rush for
cover, as cover lay too far away. Only one thing could he do, and that
was to remain quietly there and watch and wait.
After a time it is likely the man who had fired the shot began to
believe Merriwell seriously hurt. Frank caught a glimpse of him within
the hut.
"He's coming out!" Merry decided.
He was mistaken. Time dragged on and the sun dipped lower toward the
mountain-peaks; but still no person issued from the old hut. The
situation was anything but comfortable.
"Confound him!" muttered Frank. "Who is he, and what does he mean?"
Even as he asked the question, he again saw the man moving beyond the
window.
Frank thrust the rifle across the horse, resting it on the animal's
body. Then he got into a position where he could take good aim, and then
waited again.
The sun was touching the mountain-tops when beyond the window Merry saw
the head of a man.
Then the clear report of his rifle rang through the valley. The puff of
smoke from the muzzle blotted out the window for a moment. When it
floated away the window was empty.
"Did I reach him?" thought Frank anxiously.
He felt that he had not missed, and still he could not be sure. He did
not venture to rise from behind the horse. In case he had missed, he
might fall before a second bullet from the hut.
The sun went down behind the mountains, flinging a hundred golden and
crimson banners into the sky. Finally these began to fade, and a few
stars peeped forth palely.
"If somebody's watching for me there," thought Merry, "it's going to be
dangerous to move, at best."
But something told him his lead had not gone astray.
As the light faded still more he arose quickly, rifle in hand, and
started on a run for the hut. As he ran he felt that it was far from
impossible that another shot might bring sudden death to him. Still he
did not hesitate, and, running steadily, he came up to the hut.
The door swung open before his hand. He looked in. It was not so dark
as to hide a black figure that lay sprawled on the dirt floor.
Frank shuddered a little, and felt like turning away at once.
"He brought it on himself!" he whispered. "It was my life or his. But
I'm sorry I had to do it."
Then he entered the hut. Striking a match, he bent over the prostrate
figure. The reflected light, coming from his hollowed hands, showed him
a familiar face.
"Big Monte!" he cried, starting back and dropping the match.
It was in truth the big man who had been one of Cimarron Bill's paid
satellites.
He found the man's wrist and felt for his pulse.
"Good Lord!" Merry cried.
Big Monte's pulse flickered beneath his fingers. The ruffian still
lived.
Frank knew where there was some wood, and this he soon had piled in a
little heap in the open fireplace. He applied a match, and soon a blaze
sprang up.
By the growing light of the fire he examined Monte's wound.
"Creased him as fine as can be!" he muttered. "Maybe there is a chance
for him, after all."
It may be explained that by "creased" Frank meant that the bullet had
passed along the man's skull, cutting his scalp, yet had not penetrated
the bone. This had rendered Big Monte unconscious.
Merry removed the fellow's revolvers and knife and stood his rifle in a
far corner. Then he brought some water in his drinking-cup and set about
the effort of restoring the wretch to consciousness, which did not prove
such a hard task as he had anticipated.
After a little Monte's eyes opened and he lay staring at the youth. He
seemed bewildered, and it was plain he could not readily collect his
scattered wits.
"Well, Monte," said Frank coolly, "that was a pretty close call for you.
I came near shooting off the top of your head, which I would have been
justified in doing. All the same, I'm glad I failed."
The big man continued to stare at Frank. Already Merry had bound up the
ruffian's wound.
"Ho!" came hoarsely from Monte's lips. "Back! Back to the depths! You
are dead!"
"If I am dead," said Frank, "I'm just about the liveliest dead man you
ever saw."
A strange smile came to the lips of the wounded man.
"If you are not yet dead," he said, "I opines you soon will be a heap."
"Never count chickens before they are hatched, Monte."
"When you come back you'll find your mine in the hands of the syndicate.
Bill will have it."
"That's interesting! How will Bill get it?"
"He will take it while you are away. He has gathered a right good gang,
and he's a-goin' to jump the mine to-night."
"Monte," said Frank, "you interest me extensively. How does it happen
you are not with the gang?"
"I am one of the watchers. I watch to see that you do not get back. I
reckons I have done my part o' the job, for I shot you dead a while
ago."
The big ruffian was not in his right mind, but already he had said
enough to stir Frank Merriwell's blood. So Cimarron Bill had been
watching his movements from some place of cover, and had hastened to
gather his ruffians the moment Frank left the mine. Without doubt Bill
had counted on Frank remaining away longer. However, this night he was
to strike, with his gang. The mine was to be seized.
"I must be there!" muttered Merriwell.
Fortunately Big Monte had a horse hidden not far from the cabin, and
Frank was able to find the animal.
The wounded ruffian was raving at intervals. He seemed quite deranged.
"I can't leave him like this," thought Merry. "He might wander off into
the mountains and perish."
Still he disliked to be encumbered with the wretch. Some would have
deserted the wounded man without delay and ridden with all haste to
reach the mine.
It must be confessed that such a thought passed through the head of
Frank Merriwell.
"No!" murmured Frank. "He's a human being. It is my duty to do what I
can to save him."
So it came about that two men rode Monte's big horse away from that
valley. One of them muttered, and laughed, and talked wildly.
"Riding with the dead!" he said. "We're on the road to Purgatory! Ha!
Ha! Ha! Whip up the horse! Gallop on!"
It was a strange ride through the starlight night. The clicking clatter
of the horse's hoofs aroused the big man at intervals, and he laughed
and shouted.
"I'm dead!" he finally declared. "I am a dead man! Two dead men are
riding together! And we're on the road to the burnin' pit! But it's
getting a heap cold! I'm beginnin' to freeze. The fire will be good an'
hot!"
"Shut up!" said Merry. "We're getting near the Queen Mystery. You may
get shot up some more if you keep your jaw wagging."
As they came nearer to the valley, Merry slackened the pace of the
foam-flecked horse. Fortunately the animal had been big and strong, for
once Frank had seemed to have little mercy on the beast he bestrode.
Monte continued to talk. He had grown so weak that Merry was compelled
to partly support him.
"Look here," Frank said, in a commanding way, "you are not to say
another word until I give you permission. Do you understand that?"
"Yes."
"Then close up. Not another word from you."
Monte closed up, obeying like a child.
They were entering the valley. Suddenly there came a challenge.
"Hold up, thar! Who goes yander?"
Not a word from Merriwell's lips, but he drove the spurs to the horse,
clutched Big Monte tighter, and they shot forward into the valley.
Instantly sounded a shot, followed by several more. Bullets whistled
past them. Frank felt Monte give a great start and lurch sideways, but
he held the man steady.
There were cries of rage from the men who had fired the shots.
Not a word did Frank speak, but he held straight on toward the head of
the valley and Camp Mystery.
As he approached he saw lights gleaming ahead, seeming to indicate that
the sound of shooting had come up the valley and aroused the miners.
He was challenged, but gave an answer that caused the men to welcome him
with a shout. It was Crowfoot who seized the lather-white horse by the
bit, but it was another who caught Big Monte as the ruffian plunged from
the saddle on being released from Frank's arms.
"I 'lows he'd got it good an' plenty," said the man who caught Monte.
"Ef he ain't dead a'ready, he'll be so right soon."
"Take him inside somewhere," directed Frank. "Every man who can find a
weapon wants to get ready to fight. We're going to have a gang of
ruffians down on us here, and we'll have to fight to hold this mine."
"We're all ready, Mr. Merriwell," said Jim Tracy, the foreman. "Joe
Crowfoot came and warned us what was doin'. I opine them galoots must
'a' bin shootin' at you some down yander?"
"That's right," said Frank. "I had to ride through them, and they banged
away at me to their satisfaction. I was lucky to come out with a whole
skin."
"Which the other gent didn't. Who is he?"
"Big Monte."
"What? Not that galoot? Why, he's one o' the wust devils unhung in
Arizona!"
The men began to murmur.
"Big Monte!" cried another. "Why I has a score to settle with that thar
varmint! He shot my partner, Luke Brandt."
"An' I has a score to settle with him, too!" declared another. "He stole
a hoss off me!"
Many others claimed grievances against Monte, and suddenly there was a
rush toward the room into which the wounded man had been conveyed.
Somehow Frank Merriwell was ahead of them all.
As they came crowding in at the door, Merry stood beside the blanket on
which the wounded ruffian was stretched.
"Hold on, men!" he called quietly. "Monte is dying!"
"What do we keer fer that!" cried one. "All the more reason fer us to
hurry an' swing the varmint afore he crokes!"
"Let him die in peace."
"That's escapin' what's his due."
Frank lifted one hand.
"There is One above who will judge him," he said. "It is not for us to
do that."
But those men did not fancy the idea of being robbed of their vengeance.
Big Monte was helpless in their hands, and they were for swinging him
before he could escape them by giving up the ghost.
"Mr. Merriwell, sir," said one, "we respects you all right, an' we don't
like to run contrarywise to anything you says here; but in this yere
case we has to, most unfortunate. It is our sollum duty to hang this
onery hoss-thief, an' that is what we proposes to do. Arter that we'll
be ready ter fight fer you an' your mine as long as it's necessary."
"That's right!" shouted others, as they again crowded forward. "Let us
have him! We'll make it right short work! Then we'll be ready fer his
pards!"
Some of them flourished weapons. They were an ugly-looking crew.
Quick as a flash Frank Merriwell whipped out a pair of revolvers and
leveled them at the crowd.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I have just one thing to observe: If you don't,
one and all, get out of here instanter and leave Monte to shuffle off in
peace I shall open on you! If I open on you, I shall reduce you so that
Cimarron Bill and his crowd will have no trouble whatever in taking this
mine."
They did not doubt but he meant it, remarkable though it seemed. If they
attempted to seize Monte, Merriwell would begin shooting. It was
astonishing that he should choose to defend this ruffian that had been
one of his worst enemies.
As the men were hesitating, old Joe Crowfoot suddenly appeared.
"Com'ron Bill he come!" said the Indian. "There be a heap fight in a
minute! Come quick!"
"Come on!" cried Jim Tracy.
And the men rushed forth to meet and repulse Cimarron Bill and his
gang.