Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Triumph: or, The Disappearance of Felicia - Standish Burt L. - Страница 6

When they returned with their captives and the stolen horses and outfit to the timber in which Frank had left Hodge and the others it was learned that Worthington had disappeared. In vain they searched for him. He had slipped away without attracting Hodge’s attention, and he failed to answer their calls. In the morning the search was continued. They returned to their former camping place at the head of the valley where the mysterious voice had been heard, and there Frank finally discovered some rude steps in the face of the cliff, by which he mounted to an opening which proved to be the mouth of a cave.

There were evidences that this cave had been occupied by some person. Merry saw at once that this unknown person might have been in the mouth of the cave at the time the mysterious voice was heard, and that beyond question he was the singer and the one who had warned them.

It was midday when Worthington was found. They discovered him in a thicket, locked fast in the arms of another man, whose clothes were ragged and torn, and who looked like a hermit or a wild man. The thicket in that vicinity was smashed and broken, and betrayed evidences of a fierce struggle. Worthington’s hands were fastened on the stranger’s throat, and both men were stone-dead.

“I know that man!” cried Merry, in astonishment. “I met him in Holbrook last spring. I told him of Benson Clark’s death. He was once Clark’s partner. Since that time he must have searched for Clark’s mine and made his way to this valley. This explains the mystery. This explains how he knew me and knew of Benson Clark.”

“Yes, that explains it,” nodded Hodge. “But now, Frank – what are we to do?”

“We will give these poor fellows decent burial, and after that – ”

“After that – what?”

“Shawmut and Henry must be turned over to the law. We must dispose of them as soon as possible. Then there will be plenty of time to return here and locate Benson Clark’s lost mine.”

And that plan was carried out. In a few days Frank Merriwell, Bart Hodge, Cap’n Wiley and little Abe rode into Prescott, Arizona, escorting their captives, whom they turned over to the officers of the law. Merry was ready to make a serious charge against the men, but, after listening to his story, the city official said:

“Better not trouble yourself about it, Mr. Merriwell. Those chaps are old offenders! They have been wanted for some time for stage robbing, horse stealing, and for the malicious murder of a man in Crown King and another in Cherry. Did you ever hear of Spike Riley?”

“Seems to me,” said Frank, “I have heard of him as a bad man who was associated with the Kid Grafton gang.”

“Well, sir, this chap you call Shawmut is Spike Riley. Since then little has been heard from him. I am glad to get my hands on him.”

“Then I’ll leave him to your gentle care,” said Frank, with a smile. “You will relieve me of further bother on his part. As for Henry – ”

“Henry!” laughed the official. “Why, he’s got a record pretty nearly as bad as that of Riley. He is known down in Northern Mexico as one Lobo, and he has been concerned with Juan Colorado in some few raids. I think there is a reward offered for both of these men. In that case I presume you will claim it, sir.”

Cap’n Wiley, who had listened with his head cocked on one side and a peculiar look in his eyes, now coughed suggestively. Frank glanced at the sailor and smiled.

“In case there is a reward, sir,” he said, “it belongs to this gentleman.”

As he rested a hand on Wiley’s shoulder the latter threw out his chest and swelled up like a toad taking in air.

“Thanks, mate,” he said. “My modesty would have prevented me from mentioning such a trifling matter.”

“Oh, I will give you all the credit that’s your due, cap’n,” assured Merry. “You pulled me out of a bad pickle and tricked those ruffians very handsomely.”

“That will do, that will do,” said the sailor. “Let it go at that, Frank, old side partner. It is as natural for me to do such things as for the sweet flowers to open in the blooming spring. I never think anything about them after I do them. I never mention them to a soul. Why, if I were to relate half of the astounding things that have happened to me some people might suspect me of telling what is not strictly true. That’s what binds my tongue to silence. That’s why I never speak of myself. Some day my history will be written up, and I shall get great glory even though I do not collect a royalty.”

“This is a pretty good thing, Merry,” said Hodge. “It relieves you of all responsibility in regard to those ruffians, and you can now go about your business.”

In this manner it was settled, and Frank left the two ruffians to be locked up in the Prescott jail.

Rooms were obtained at the best hotel in the place, and both Frank and Bart proceeded without delay to “spruce up.” Having bathed, and shaved, and obtained clean clothes, they felt decidedly better.

It was useless for Cap’n Wiley to indulge in such needless trouble, as he regarded it.

“This is not my month to bathe,” he murmured, as he sat with his feet on the sill of Frank’s window and puffed leisurely at a cigar. “Besides, I am resting now. I find myself on the verge of nervous prostration, and therefore I need rest. Later I may blossom forth and take the town by surprise.”

Later he did. Although he had jocosely stated that it was not his month to bathe, he indulged in such a luxury before nightfall, was shaved at a barber’s shop and purchased a complete outfit of clothes at a clothing store. He even contemplated buying a silk hat, but finally gave this up when he found that silk hats of the latest style were decidedly scarce in Prescott. When he swaggered into Frank’s room, where Merry and Hodge were holding a consultation, they both surveyed him in surprise.

“I am the real thing now,” he declared.

“What has brought about this sudden change on your part?” questioned Frank.

“Hush!” said the sailor. “Breathe it softly. When I sat by yonder window musing on my variegated career I beheld passing on the street a charming maiden. I had not fancied there could be such a fair creature in this town. When I beheld her my being glowed. I decided that it was up to me to shed my coat of dust and grime and adorn myself. I have resolved to make my ontray into the midst of society here.”

“But aren’t you going back with us to the Mazatzals?” questioned Merry.

“When do you contemplate such a thing?”

“We expect to leave to-morrow.”

“Why this agitated haste?”

“You know we’ve not definitely located Benson Clark’s lost claim, although we feel certain it must be in the Enchanted Valley or in that vicinity. We’re going back to prospect for that mine. If you return with us and we discover it, of course you will have an interest in it.”

“Thanks for your thoughtful consideration, mate. At the same time, it seems to me that I have had about enough prospecting to do me for a while.”

“Do you mean that you’re not going with us?” exclaimed Hodge, in surprise. “Why, if we discover that mine it may make you rich!”

“Well, I will think the matter over with all due seriousness,” said Wiley easily. “I know you will miss my charming society if I don’t go.”

“It may be the chance of your lifetime,” said Merry.

“I’m not worrying about that. Wherever I go, Dame Fortune is bound to smile upon me. I have a mash on that old girl. She seems to like my style.”

“I think you will make a mistake, Wiley, if you don’t go,” asserted Frank.

“Possibly so; but I’ve made so many mistakes in the brief span of my legitimate life that one or two more will hardly ruffle me. If I have to confess the truth to you, that valley is to me a ghastly and turgid memory. When I think of it I seem to hear ghostly voices, and I remember Worthington raving and ranting about death and destruction, and I picture him as we discovered him in the thicket, dead in the clutch of another dead man. These things are grewsome to me, and I fain would forget them.”

“All right, cap’n,” said Frank; “you are at liberty to do as you like.”

Then he and Bart continued arranging their plans.

That evening Wiley disappeared. Frank and Bart left little Abe at the hotel and went out to “see the sights.” In the biggest gambling place of the town they found the sailor playing roulette. Wiley had a streak of luck, and he was hitting the bank hard. Around him had gathered a crowd to watch his plunging, and the coolness with which he won large sums of money commanded their admiration.

“It’s nothing, mates,” he declared – “merely nothing. When I was at Monte Carlo I won eleventeen thousand pesoses, or whatever they call them, at one turn of the wheel. Such a streak of luck caused the croupier to die of apoplexy, broke the bank, and put the Prince of Monte Carlo out of business for twenty-four hours. The next day the prince came to me and besought me to leave the island. He declared that if I played again he feared he would die in the poorhouse. As it was, he found it necessary to mortgage the Casino in order to raise skads to continue in business. To-night I am merely amusing myself. Five thousand on the red.”

“Well, what do you think of that?” asked Hodge in Frank’s ear.

“I think,” said Frank, “that it is about time for Cap’n Wiley to cash in and stop playing.”

He pushed his way through the throng and reached the sailor.

“Now is the time for you to stop,” said Frank in Wiley’s ear, speaking in a low tone, in order not to attract attention, for he knew such advice would not be relished by the proprietor and might get him into trouble.

“Never fear about me, mate,” returned the sailor serenely. “Ere morning dawns I shall own this place. Talk about your gold mines! Why, this beats them all!”

“It’s a wise man who knows when to stop,” said Frank.

“It’s a wise man who knows how to work a streak clean through to the finish,” was the retort. “I have my luck with me to-night, and the world is mine. In the morning I shall build a fence around it.”

“Red wins,” quietly announced the croupier.

“You observe how easy it is, I presume,” said Wiley, smiling. “I can’t help it. It’s as natural as breathing.”

Frank saw that it was useless to argue with the sailor, and so he and Hodge left him still playing, while they strolled through the place. There was a dance hall connected, which provided amusement for them a while, although neither danced. Barely half an hour passed before Frank, who was somewhat anxious about Wiley, returned to note how Wiley was getting along.

Luck had turned, and Wiley was losing steadily. Still he continued to bet with the same harebrained carelessness, apparently perfectly confident that his bad luck could not keep up.

“He will go broke within twenty minutes if he sticks to it, Frank,” said Hodge.

Merry nodded.

“That’s right,” he agreed; “but he won’t listen to advice. If we attempt to get him away, we will simply kick up a disturbance and find ourselves in a peck of trouble. Even if he should cash in now and quit ahead of the game, he’d come back to it and lose all he’s won. Therefore we may as well let him alone.”

They did so, and Bart’s prophecy came true. The sailor’s reckless betting lowered his pile so that it seemed to melt like dew before the sun. Finally he seemed to resolve on a grand stroke, and he bet everything before him on the red.

The little ball clicked and whirred in the whirling wheel. The spectators seemed breathless as they watched for the result of that plunge. Slower and slower grew the revolutions of the wheel. The ball spun around on its rim like a cork on the water. At length it dropped.

“He wins!” panted an excited man.

“No – see!” exclaimed another.

The ball had bobbed out of its pocket and spun on again.

“Lost!” was the cry, as it finally settled and rested securely in a pocket.

Wiley swallowed down a lump in his throat as the man behind the table raked in the wager.

“Excuse me,” said the sailor, rising. “I hope you will pardon me while I go drown myself. Can any one direct me to a tub of tanglefoot?”

As he left the table, knowing now that it would cause no disturbance, Frank grasped his arm and again advised him to leave the place.

“I admit to you,” said Wiley, “that I was mistaken when I stated that I had a mash on Dame Fortune. I have discovered that it was her daughter, Miss Fortune. Leave me – leave me to my fate! I shall now attempt to lap up all the liquids in the place, and in the morning I’ll have a large aching head.”

Frank insisted, however, and his command led Wiley reluctantly to permit them to escort him from the place.

“I might read you a lecture on the evils of gambling, cap’n,” said Merry; “but I shall not do so to-night. It strikes me that you have learned your lesson.”

“It is only one of many such lessons,” sighed the sailor. “By this time I should have them by heart, but somehow I seem to forget them. I wish to tell you a secret that I have held buried in my bosom these many years. It is this:

“Somewhere about my machinery there is a screw loose. In vain I have sought to find it. I know it is there just as well as I know that I am Cap’n Wiley. Now, you are a perfect piece of machinery, with everything tight, and firm, and well oiled, and polished. As an example you are the real thing. Perhaps to-morrow I may conclude to follow in your footsteps. Just tuck me in my little bed and leave me to dreamy slumber.”

After being left in his room, however, Wiley did not remain long in bed. Knowing they would not suspect such a thing of him, he arose, and dressed, and returned to the gambling house. When morning came he was not only broke, but he had pawned everything of value in his possession and was practically destitute.

“Well,” said Merry, having discovered the cap’n’s condition, “I presume now you will return with us to the Mazatzals?”

“No use,” was the answer; “I shall stay here in Prescott. I have my eye on a good thing. Don’t worry about me.”

It was useless to urge him, for he persisted in his determination to stay there. And so before leaving Frank made some final arrangements with him.

“I have wired for my mail to be forwarded here, Wiley,” he said. “If anything of importance comes, anything marked to be delivered in haste, I wish you would see that it reaches me. Cannot you do so?”

“Depend upon me, Frank,” assured the sailor. “I will not fail you in this. But before departing it seems to me that you should make arrangements that any such message be delivered into my hands.”

“I will do so,” said Merry. “Now, see here, cap’n, I don’t like to leave you strapped in this town. At the same time, I don’t care to let you have money of mine to gamble with. If I provide you with some loose change, will you give me your word not to use it in gambling?”

“Your generosity is almost ignoble!” exclaimed Wiley. “However, I accept it in the same manner that it is tendered. I give you my word.”