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Frank Merriwell Down South, a novel by Burt L. Standish

Chapter 26. Still More Mysterious

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_ CHAPTER XXVI. STILL MORE MYSTERIOUS

"Pull!" panted Frank.

"Pull!" mumbled the professor.

"Pull!" snorted Barney, in disgust, great drops of perspiration rolling down his face. "As if we wurn't pullin'!"

"We're not gaining."

"The white canoe keeps just so far ahead."

"Begobs! it's not our fault at all, at all."

Indeed, no matter how hard they worked, no matter how fast they made the canoe fly through the water, they could not gain on the mysterious white canoe. The distance between the two canoes seemed to remain just the same, and the one in advance slipped through the water without a sound, following the winding water course beneath the dark trees and going deeper and deeper into the heart of the swamp.

Other water courses were passed, running away into unknown and unexplorable wilds. It grew darker and darker, and the feeling of awe and fear fell more heavily upon them.

At last, exhausted and discouraged, the professor stopped paddling, crying to his companions, in a husky voice:

"Stop, boys, stop! There is something supernatural about that fiendish boat! It is luring us to some frightful fate!"

"Nonsense, professor!" retorted Frank. "You are not superstitious--you have said so at least a score of times."

"That's all right," returned Scotch, shaking his head. "I do not take any stock in rappings, table tippings, and that kind of stuff, but I will confess this is too much for me."

"Begobs! Oi don't wonder at thot," gurgled Barney Mulloy, wiping the great drops of perspiration from his forehead. "It's the divvil's own canoe, thot is sure!"

"Oh, it's simple enough!" declared Frank, nettled.

"Thin ixplain it fer me, me b'y--ixplain it."

"Oh, I won't say that I can explain it, for I do not pretend to understand it; but I'll wager that the mystery would be readily solved if we could overtake and examine that canoe."

"Mebbe so; but I think it nades a stameboat to overtake it."

Professor Scotch shook his head in a most solemn manner.

"Boys," he said, "in all my career I have never seen anything like this, and I shall never dare tell this adventure, for people in general would not believe it--they'd think I was lying."

"Without doubt," admitted Frank. "And, still I will wager that the explanation of the whole matter would seem very simple if we could overtake that canoe and examine it."

"Perhaps so."

"You speak as if you doubted it."

"Possibly I do."

"I am surprised at you, professor--I am more than surprised."

"I can't help it if you are, my boy."

"I am afraid your mind is beginning to weaken."

"Soay, Frankie," broke in Barney. "Oi loike fun as well as th' nixt wan, but, be jabbers! it's nivver a bit av it can Oi see in this!"

"See that infernal canoe?" cried the professor, pointing at the mystic craft. "It has stopped out there in the shadows."

"And seems to be waiting for us to pursue again."

"That's what it's doing."

"I'm ready!" exclaimed Frank.

"I am not," decisively declared Professor Scotch.

"Nayther am Oi!" almost shouted the Irish youth. "It's enough av this koind av business Oi've been in!"

"We'll turn about," said Scotch, grimly. "That canoe will lure us into this dismal swamp so far that we'll never find our way out. We'll turn about at once."

Frank laughed.

"All right," he said. "I suppose I'll have to give up, but I do dislike to leave without solving the mystery of that canoe."

"It may be thot we're so far in thot we can't foind our way out at all, at all," said the Irish lad.

"I'm afraid we'll not be able to get out before nightfall," confessed the professor. "I have no fancy for spending a night in this swamp."

Barney promptly expressed his dislike for such an adventure, but Frank was silent.

The canoe turned about, and they set about the task of retracing the water courses by which they had come far into the swamp.

It was not long before they came to a place where the courses divided. Frank was for following one, while both Barney and the professor insisted that the other was the right way.

Finally, Frank gave in to them, although it was against his better judgment, and he felt that he should not submit.

They had not proceeded far before, as they were passing round a bend, a cry of astonishment fell from Barney's lips.

"Howly shmoke!" he shouted. "Thot bates th' band!"

"What's the matter?" asked Frank and the professor, together.

"Thot whoite canoe!"

"What of it?"

"Look back! Th' thing is afther follying av us!"

They looked back, and, sure enough, there was the mysterious canoe, gliding after them, like a most uncanny thing!

"Well, I like that!" said Frank, in a tone that plainly indicated he did not like it. "This is very pleasant!"

"Pull, pull!" throbbed the professor, splashing his paddle into the water and very nearly upsetting them all. "Don't let the thing overtake us! Pull, pull!"

"Oi think it's a foine plan to be gettin' out av this," muttered Barney, in an agitated tone of voice.

"Steady, there, professor," called Frank, sharply. "What do you want to do--drown us all? Keep cool."

"It's coming!" fluttered the little man, wildly.

"Let it come. As long as we could not overtake it, let it overtake us. That is a very good scheme."

"Th' skame won't worruck, me b'y. Th' ould thing's shtopped."

It was true; the white canoe had stopped, and was lying calmly on the inky surface of the shadowed water.

"Well, I can't say that I like this," said Frank.

"And I scarcely think I like it more than you do," came from the professor.

"An' th' both av yez loike it as well as mesilf," put in the Irish youth.

"What are we to do?"

"Go on."

Go on they did, but the white canoe still followed, keeping at a distance.

"I can't stand this," declared Frank, as he picked up a rifle from the bottom of the canoe. "I wonder how lead will work on her?"

"Pwhat are yez goin' to do, me b'y?" cried Barney, in alarm.

"Shoot a few holes in that craft," was the deliberate answer. "Swing to the left, so that I may have a good chance."

"Don't shoot!" palpitated the professor.

"Don't shoot!" gurgled Barney.

"What is the matter with you?" demanded Frank, sharply. "You both appear like frightened children!"

"No telling what'll come of it if you shoot."

"I'll simply put a few holes through that canoe."

"It may be the destruction of us!"

"It may sind us all to glory by th' farrust express."

"Nonsense! Don't be foolish! Swing her to the left, I say. I am going to shoot, and that settles it."

It was useless for them to urge him not to fire; he was determined, and nothing they could say would change his mind. The canoe drifted round to the left, and the rifle rose to Frank's shoulder.

Spang! The clear report rang out and echoed through the cypress forest.

The bullet tore through the white canoe, and the weird craft seemed to give a leap, like a wounded creature.

"Hit it!" cried Frank, triumphantly.

"Hit it!" echoed the professor, quivering with terror.

"Hit it!" groaned Barney Mulloy, his face white and his eyes staring. "May all the saints defind us!"

"Look!" shouted Frank. "She is turning about--she is going to leave us! But I'll put another bullet through her!"

Up the rifle came, but, just as he pressed the trigger, Professor Scotch pushed the weapon to one side, so the bullet did not pass within twenty feet of the white canoe.

"Why did you do that?" demanded Frank, angrily.

"I couldn't see you shoot into that canoe again," faltered the agitated professor. "It was too much--too much!"

"What do you mean by that?"

Professor Scotch shook his head. He could not explain, and he was ashamed of his agitation and fears.

"Well, you fellows lay over anything I ever went up against!" said Frank, in disgust. "I didn't suppose you could be so thoroughly childish."

"All right, Frank," came humbly from the professor's lips. "I can't help it, and I haven't a word to say."

"But I will take one more shot at that canoe!" vowed Frank.

"Not this day," chuckled Barney Mulloy. "She's gone!"

It was true. The mysterious canoe had vanished from view while they were speaking. _

Read next: Chapter 27. In The Everglades

Read previous: Chapter 25. The Mysterious Canoe

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