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Frank Merriwell Down South, a novel by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 41. Facing Death |
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_ CHAPTER XLI. FACING DEATH Frank Merriwell's blood was aroused, and he did not feel like letting Wade Miller drive him like a hunted dog from the mountains. "By this time I should think you would have confidence in my ability to take care of myself against this man Miller," he said, somewhat testily. "Yo're ther best fighter I ever saw, but that won't 'mount ter anything agin' ther power Miller will set on yer. He's pop-ler, is Wade Miller, an' he'll have ther hull maountings ter back him." "I shall not run for Miller and all his friends. Right is right, and I have as good right here as he." "Hang me!" cried Kate, admiringly; "hang me ef I don't like you-uns' pluck. You may find that you'll need a friend afore yo're done with Wade. Ef ye do--wal, mebbe Kate Kenyon won't be fur off." "Thank you," said Frank. "It is a good thing to know I shall have one friend in the mountains." "Huah!" grunted a voice, and Mrs. Kenyon was seen stolidly standing in the dusk. "Mebbe you-uns will find my Kate ther best friend ye could have. Come, gal, it's time ter g'win." So they entered the cabin, and Barney found an opportunity to whisper to Frank: "She's a corker, me b'y! an' Oi think she's shtuck on yez. Betther be careful, lad. It's dangerous." "Don't worry," returned Frank. Shortly after entering the house, Mrs. Kenyon declared she was tired, and intended to go to bed. She apologized for the bed she had to give the boys, but they assured her that they were accustomed to sleeping anywhere, and that the bed would be a positive luxury. "Such slick-tongued chaps I never did see before," declared the old woman. "They don't seem stuck up an' lofty, like most city fellers. Really, they make me feel right to home in my own house!" She said this in a whimsical way that surprised Frank, who fancied Mrs. Kenyon had no sense of humor. Kate bade them good-night, and they retired, which they were glad to do, as they were tired from the tramp of the day. Frank was awakened by a sharp shake, and his first thought was of danger, but his hand did not reach the revolver he had placed beneath the pillow, for he felt something cold against his temple, and heard a voice hiss: "Be easy, you-uns! Ef ye make a jowl, yo're ter be shot!" Barney was awakened at the same time, and the boys found they were in the clutches of strong men. The little room seemed filled with men, and the lads instantly realized they were in a bad scrape. Through the small window sifted the white moonlight, showing that every man wore a black, pointed cap and hood, which reached to his shoulders. In this hood arrangement great holes were cut for the eyes, and some had slits cut for their mouths. "The Black Caps!" was the thought that flashed through Frank's mind. The revolvers pressed against the heads of the boys kept them from defending themselves or making an outcry. They were forced to get up and dress, after which they were passed through the open window, like bundles, their hands having been tied behind them. Other black-hooded men were outside, and horses were near at hand. "Great Scott!" thought Frank Merriwell. "We are in for it! We should have been ready for them." But when he thought how tired they had been, he did not wonder that both had slept soundly while the men slipped into the house by the window, which had been readily and noiselessly removed. It did not take the men long to get out as they had entered. Then Frank and Barney were placed on horses, being tied there securely, and the party was soon ready to move. They rode away, and the horses' feet gave out no sound, which explained why they had not aroused anybody within the cabin. The hoofs of the animals were muffled. Frank wondered what Kate Kenyon would think when morning came and she found her guests gone. "She will believe we rose in the night, and ran away. I hate to have her believe me a coward." Then he fell to wondering what the men would do with himself and Barney. "We are harmless travelers. They will not dare to do anything more than run us out of this part of the country." Although he told himself this, he was far from feeling sure that the men would do nothing else. He had heard of the desperate deeds perpetrated by the widely known "White Caps," and it was not likely that the Black Caps were any less desperate and reckless. As they were leaving the vicinity of the cabin, one of the horses neighed loudly, causing the leader of the party to utter an exclamation of anger. "Ef that 'rousts ther gal, she's li'bul ter be arter us in a hurry," one of the men observed. The party hurried forward, soon passing from view of the cabin, and entering the shadow that lay blackly in the depths of the valley. They rode about a mile, and then they came to a halt at a command from the leader, and Frank noticed with alarm that they had stopped beneath a large tree, with wide-spreading branches. "This looks bad for us, old man," he whispered to Barney. "Thot's pwhat it does, Frankie," admitted the Irish lad. "Oi fale throuble coming this way." The horsemen formed a circle about the captives, moving at a signal from the leader, who did not seem inclined to waste words. "Brothers o' ther Black Caps," said the leader, "what is ther fate we-uns gives ter revenues?" "Death!" Every man in the circle uttered the word, and they spoke all together. It sounded dismal and blood-chilling. "Right," bowed the leader. "Now, why are we assembled ter-night?" "Ter dispose o' spies," chorused the Black Caps. "Where are they?" "Thar!" Each one of the black-hooded band extended a hand and pointed straight at the captive boys. "How shall they be disposed uv?" asked the leader. "They shall be hanged," solemnly said the men. "Good!" cried the leader, as if well satisfied. "Produce ther rope." In a moment one of the men brought forth a rope. This was long enough to serve for both boys, and it was quickly cut in two pieces, while skillful hands proceeded to form nooses. "Frankie," said Barney Mulloy, sadly, "we're done for." "It looks that way," Frank was forced to admit. "Oi wouldn't moind so much," said the Irish lad, ruefully, "av we could kick th' booket foighting fer our loives; but it is a bit harrud ter go under widout a chance to lift a hand." "That's right," cried Frank, as he strained fiercely at the cords which held his hands behind his back. "It is the death of a criminal, and I object to it." The leader of the Black Caps rode close to the boys, leaned forward in his saddle, and hissed in Frank's ear: "It's my turn now!" "And you mean to murder us?" demanded Frank, passionately. "Not murder," answered the man. "We-uns is goin' ter put two revenues out o' ther way, that's all!" "It's murder," cried Frank, in a ringing tone. "You know we are not revenue spies! Men, we appeal to you. We can prove that we are what we claim to be--two boys who are tramping through the mountains for pleasure. Will you kill us without giving us a chance to prove our innocence?" The leader laughed harshly. "It's ther same ol' whine," he said. "Ther revenues alwus cry baby when they're caught. You-uns can't fool us, an' we ain't got time ter waste with ye. Git reddy, boys!" About the boys' necks the fatal ropes were quickly adjusted. "Stop!" Frank commanded. "If you murder us, you will find you have not killed two friendless boys. We have friends--powerful friends--who will follow this matter up--who will investigate it. You will be hunted down and punished for the crime. You will not be allowed to escape!" Again the leader laughed. "Pore fool!" he sneered. "Do you-uns think ye're stronger an' more po'erful than ther United States Gover'ment? Huah! Ther United States loses her spies, an' she can't tell who disposed o' 'em. We won't be worried by all yore friends." He made another movement, and the rope ends were flung over a limb that was strong enough to bear both lads. Hope was dying within Frank Merriwell's breast. At last he had reached the end of his adventurous life, which had been short and turbulent. He must die here amid these wild mountains, which flung themselves up against the moonlit sky, and the only friend to be with him at the end was the faithful friend who must die at his side. Frank's blood ran cold and sluggish in his veins. The spring night had seemed warm and sweet, filled with the droning of insects; but now there was a bitter chill in the air, and the white moonlight seemed to take on a crimson tinge, as of blood. The boy's nature rebelled against the thought of meeting death in such a manner. It was spring-time amid the mountains; with him it was the spring-time of life. He had enjoyed the beautiful world, and felt strong and brave to face anything that might come; but this he had not reckoned on, and it was something to cause the stoutest heart to shake. Over the eastern mountains, craggy, wild, barren or pine-clad, the gibbous moon swung higher and higher. The heavens were full of stars, and every star seemed to be an eye that was watching to witness the consummation of the tragedy down there in that little valley, through which Lost Creek flowed on to its unknown destination. How still it was! The silence was broken by a sound that made every black-hooded man start and listen. Sweet and mellow and musical, from afar through the peaceful night, came the clear notes of a bugle. Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-tar! Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-tar! A fierce exclamation broke from the lips of the leader of the Black Caps, and he grated: "Muriel, by ther livin' gods! He's comin' hyar! Quick, boys--finish this job, an' git!" "Stop, Wade Miller!" cried Frank, commandingly. "If that is Muriel, wait for him--let him pronounce our fate. He is the chief of you all, and he shall say if we are revenue spies." "Bah! You-uns know too much, fer ye've called my name! That settles ye! Ye must hang anyway, now!" Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-tar! From much nearer, came the sound of the bugle, awakening hundreds of mellow echoes, which were flung from crag to crag till it seemed that the mountains were alive with buglers. The clatter of a horse's iron-shod feet could be heard, telling that the rider was coming like the wind down the valley. "Cut free ther feet o' ther pris'ners!" panted the leader of the Black Caps. "Work quick! Muriel will be here in a few shakes, an' we-uns must be done. All ready thar! Up with 'em!" The fatal moment had arrived! _ |
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