FRIENDS AND FOES.
The Pacific Express drew into Reno on time, and Frank Merriwell was
about to bid adieu to the beautiful girl whom he had first met the day
before.
"I shall not soon forget this pleasant journey," he said, sincerely.
"Your company has made it very agreeable, Miss--Isban."
Somehow, he stumbled over that name, to which he had taken such a strong
dislike.
"Thank you," she said, and he half fancied her lip quivered a bit. "You
have been very kind, Mr. Merriwell."
Frank's heart fluttered a bit; the train was drawing into the station;
the boy leaned toward her, his eyes shining, a flush in his cheeks.
"And now we are to say good-by, without the least probability of ever
seeing each other again," he said, his voice not quite steady.
She turned away for a moment, and then, as she turned back, she swiftly
said:
"It is possible we may never see each other again, but you have given me
your home address, and you say any letter I may send will be forwarded
to you. You may hear from me--some time."
"I may--but if you would promise to write----"
"I have told you I cannot promise that."
"And you will not give me your address?"
"I cannot for reasons known to myself. Do not ask me."
"Miss Isban, I believe you are in trouble--some things you have told me
have led me to believe so. If you need a friend at any time, let me hear
from you."
She gave him her hand, looked straight into his eyes, and said:
"I will."
The brakeman thrust open the door and shouted:
"Reno. Change here for Carson, Virginia City, Candelaria and Keeler."
The train came to a dead stop.
Frank escorted Isa from the car, carrying her traveling bag, which he
gave to her when the station platform was reached.
"Remember!" he breathed in her ear.
Her hand touched his, she smiled into his eyes, whispering:
"I will! Good-by."
He lifted his hat, as she turned away.
At that moment a youth came hurrying forward, lifted his hat, his face
radiant, and accosted Isa:
"Vida," he said, "I am here. You did not come when you said, but I have
been watching for you."
Frank staggered back.
"Caesar's ghost!" he palpitated. "Is it possible, or do my eyes deceive
me? Can that be Bart Hodge, my schoolmate, chum, and comrade of Fardale?
As I live, I believe it is! And he knows Miss Isban! What's the matter?
She does not seem to know him!"
The girl had drawn back, with an expression of alarm.
"I think you have made a mistake, sir," she said, rather haughtily.
"A mistake!" gasped the handsome youth, astonished and dismayed. "Why,
you know me! There is no mistake."
"But there is. I do not know you."
"Vida, you say that? Why, I am----"
"An impertinent young scoundrel!"
Smack!--an open hand struck Bart Hodge on the cheek, sending him
reeling. The blow was delivered by a large man, with a heavy black
mustache and the manner and appearance of a "gentleman rowdy." His
clothes were flashy, and he "sported" several large diamonds.
Frank was not the boy to stand idle and see a friend struck. Without a
word he made a leap for the big man. His fist was clinched, his arm shot
out, and his knuckles took the fellow under the left ear.
It was a beautiful knock-down blow. The man measured his length on the
platform in an instant.
"All aboard!"
The train was about to start, the conductor was giving the signal.
"Let it go," said Frank, quietly. "It is possible I had better stay here
and see this matter through. Bart may need me."
The train began to move.
With a cry of dismay, the girl had knelt beside the fallen man.
A bit dazed, Bart Hodge had faced around in time to see Frank strike
that telling blow. Bart stared, almost doubting the evidence of his
eyes.
"Great guns!" he gasped.
Then he sprang forward, his hand outstretched, shouting:
"Frank Merriwell!"
"Bart Hodge!"
They shook hands, both laughing forth their delight.
"You are a sight for sore eyes, old man!" cried Bart.
"You're another!" flung back Frank.
The man with the black mustache pushed away the girl and sat up,
staring, in a dazed way, at the two boys.
"Who struck me?" he asked.
"I believe I had that pleasure," smiled Frank.
"You? Did you knock me down? Why, you're a kid! I can kill you with one
blow!"
He got upon his feet, his face dark as a thundercloud.
The girl caught him by the arm, crying, in distress:
"Don't Paul--don't harm him! He has been kind to me on the train. I beg
you not to hurt him!"
This seemed to anger the man still more.
"Kind to you, eh?" he snarled. "And the other one tried to flirt with
you. I will----"
His hand went round to his hip, and there was a mad, deadly gleam in his
eyes. He looked murderous.
Neither of the boys made a move to draw a weapon.
"I wouldn't do it," said Frank, coolly. "I know this section of the
country is called 'the wild and woolly West,' but it is not sufficiently
wild and woolly to overlook a cold-blooded murder. If you take a fancy
to shoot two boys you will be pretty sure to get yourself beautifully
hanged."
"Oh, I won't shoot!" growled the man, his hand dropping away from his
hip. "But I will----"
"Easy, there!" came sharply from the lips of a police officer. "Somebody
is going to get yanked here."
He forced his way through the crowd that had formed a circle about the
principal actors on the scene.
"Who is talking about shooting here?" he demanded. "Where is the man who
carries concealed weapons?"
"Come away, Paul," whispered the girl, pulling at the man's arm.
"All right," he muttered--"all right, but there are other days. Those
young whelps had better keep out of my way."
"Disperse, here!" ordered the officer, commandingly, flourishing his
stick. "Be lively about it, too."
The crowd began to disperse.
The big man turned away, and the girl took his arm. Bart Hodge took a
step after them, but Frank caught hold of his arm, saying, sharply:
"Easy, old boy! Let her go."
"But----"
"Are you looking for further trouble right here?"
"No, but----"
"Then mind me."
"I suppose I'll have to, as you always were the boss. But I know that
girl, and she refused to recognize me."
"Well, what do you think you can do about it?"
"I was going to demand an explanation, and----"
"You would have received it--from the man who accompanies her."
Frank drew Bart away, but the latter still grumbled.
"If you understood it--if you knew, Frank. Why, I have chased across the
continent to meet her, and then to have her cut me dead! It is
terrible!"
Frank smiled.
"I should fancy it would seem a bit hard," he confessed. "But you may
have made a mistake."
"Not much!"
"Still, it is possible you did, Bart--it is probable."
"Probable! Get out! I----"
"Wait a minute. It happens that I am slightly acquainted with the young
lady."
"You? She never mentioned you to me."
"Still, I am slightly acquainted with her," smiled Frank, who knew well
enough why she had never mentioned him. "I heard you call her Vida,
and----"
"That is her name--Vida Melburn."
"It's just as I thought--you have mistaken this girl for some one else.
The name of this young lady is Isa Isban."
"Impossible!"
"It is the truth. I traveled with her from Ogden, and she left me a
moment before you observed her. Now, I know what I am talking about, and
you are twisted, old boy."
Bart smote his hands together, his dark eyes glowing.
"I will not believe it yet; but, if it is true, there are two girls in
the world who look exactly alike."
"Come away from here," said Frank. "Where can we obtain something to
eat? We can talk it over----"
"Hold on, Frank. I believe those people are going to take the next train
south, which leaves immediately."
"That is right. Miss Isban is on her way to Carson."
"Then I shall take that train."
Frank looked his friend over from head to foot.
"Say," he chuckled, "you are hard hit! I will confess that I was a bit
stuck on the girl, but I did not have it this way."
"She is in trouble," asserted Bart. "I mean to be on hand to help her,
if she needs assistance."
"All right; we'll take the next train south."