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Frank Merriwell's Bravery, a novel by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 12. A Chance In A Thousand |
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_ CHAPTER XII. A CHANCE IN A THOUSAND Frank, with his usual daring and gallantry, had resolved to make an effort to save the unfortunate girl--to rescue her from the clutch of Black Harry. Having determined on such an attempt, he lost no time in catching her up and dashing into the hut with her in his arms. Dropping her upon her feet, he whirled, slammed the door shut, found the wooden bar with which old Cade had made it fast, dropped the bar into its socket, and cried: "Hurrah for us! This is the first step to freedom!" Turning, he found the girl was leaning against the wall, staring at him in a wondering way, but without fear being expressed on her handsome face. "I trust you are quite unharmed, Miss Dawson?" he said, swiftly. "My unsavory double has----" "He has not harmed me," she broke in, swiftly, "but I feel that I have done you a harm I can never repair." "Nonsense! How have you harmed me?" "By declaring that you were the one who shot my father." "You believed it when you said so, and that----" "Yes, I believed it, but that is nothing that will lessen the injury I did you. And to think of the terrible peril in which I placed you! Then, when it was reported that father was dead, they were determined to lynch you." "And your father is not dead?" "He was not when I last saw him, and the doctor said he might come out all right." "That is indeed fortunate." "I heard them crying that he was dead, I saw them preparing to make an assault on the jail, and I left father's side to stop them if I could." "Brave girl!" "Then it was that I fell into the hands of this wretch who brought me here--the real Black Harry. He was waiting for an opportunity to capture me--he told me so. He told me how I had imperiled the life of one who was innocent, and he laughed at my horror and remorse. He is a heartless creature!" "He seems to be all of that." "And you have placed your life in greater peril for me--you did so after what I did to you! Why should you do such a thing?" "Why, Miss Dawson, you were not to blame for thinking me Black Harry. The fellow is my double, and I ought not to have a double. Do you suppose I would think of leaving you in his power if there was any possible way for me to save you?" "You are a noble fellow! But you cannot save me--you cannot escape yourself! They will soon break in here, and then----" Frank was listening at the door, and he heard Black Harry complete his explanation to his Braves, heard their wild cries, and knew they were going to charge on the door. "It will not stand before them!" He looked around and saw the stairs. "Up!" he cried to the girl. "Don't lose a moment!" He motioned toward the stairs, and she ran toward them, hearing the roar that came from the outlaws as they made the rush for the cabin. "Come!" she panted, looking over her shoulder, and seeing Frank with a revolver in either hand. "Don't stay there! They will kill you!" "Up!" he shouted again. "I will follow!" She sprang up the stairs, which creaked and swayed beneath her. There was a great shock, and the cabin seemed to totter on the brink of the chasm. Then the door fell, and the ruffians swarmed into the cabin. Frank Merriwell was right behind the girl, and he seemed to lift her and fling her into the loft. "There they go!" rang the voice of the real Black Harry. "Up the stairs!" "This is no time for talk!" cried Frank, as he crouched at the head of the flight, his teeth set, and the light of desperation in his eyes. The braves came rushing up the stairs, and the boy above thrust out both hands, each of which held a revolver. Frank fired four shots, and the smoke shut out the faces of the fierce rascals on the stairs. He heard cries of pain and the sound of falling bodies. "I didn't waste my bullets," came grimly from his lips. But what could he do now? He had repulsed them for the time, but they were in the cabin, and it would not be for long that he could keep them back. They would soon find a way to reach him. He leaped to the swinging window and flung it open, thrusting the revolvers lightly into the side pockets of the coat he wore. He looked down into the depths of the chasm, through which ran the stream of water. "It is a long distance down there," came hoarsely from the lad's lips. "I will try it! It is our last hope." With a bound, he caught up the coil of rope, then he rushed to the window and flung it out. As one end was made fast to a rafter, it hung dangling from the window. Frank looked out, and he saw that the rope reached to the stream of water. At the same time, he heard Black Harry calling on his braves to follow him up the stairs. "Come!" said Frank, hurrying to the side of the girl, and grasping her arm. "There is one chance in a thousand that we may do the trick and escape alive. We'll make a try for that chance." She did not question him, she did not hold back, but she bravely trusted everything to his judgment. Frank passed through the window in advance. He twisted the rope around one leg, and he secured a good hold on it with his hands. Then he said to the girl: "Be lively now! Get through the window, put your arms about my neck, cling for your life, and trust to Frank Merriwell and Providence." She did so, and they were soon descending the rope. Frank went down, hand under hand, as he did not dare slide at first, knowing that his hands would be torn and bleeding, and that he must lose his hold before the bottom was reached. With the twist about his leg to aid him, he managed to sustain himself and his living burden very well. The girl whispered in his ear: "Courage! You are the noblest fellow I ever saw--the greatest hero in the whole wide world!" He made no reply, for his teeth were set, and he was mentally praying for strength and time. Down they went--down, down. And then, when nearly half the distance had been covered, a shout came from above. "Here they are! Ten thousand fiends! They shall not get away alive!" It was the voice of Black Harry himself. "Oh, for a little more time!" panted Frank. But no more time was to be given him. He heard the voice of the boy outlaw crying: "Look up here, Frank Merriwell--look up! I have a little trick to show you." Frank looked upward, and he saw Black Harry leaning far out of the window. A knife glittered in the hand of the young desperado. "I am going to cut the rope!" came down to the ears of the boy and girl. "Poor fools! Did you think to escape me! You will go down to your death in the creek!" Frank clung with one hand to the rope, although the strain was terrible. With his other hand he drew one of the revolvers from his pocket, lifted it, took aim, fired. The weapon spoke just as Black Harry slashed at the rope. There was a shriek of pain, a human body shot out from the window, and, as it went whirling downward, the rope parted! Then down shot Frank and Lona to fall into the stream. They struck where the water was quite deep, and they were unharmed, although the girl was unconscious when our hero bore her to solid ground. As for Black Harry, he struck where some jagged rocks reared their heads from the water, and he lay there, in a huddled heap, and dead, forever past harming any living creature. And yet, as was afterward discovered by examination, he had not been touched by the bullet which Frank had fired up at him. He had been startled by the shot, had lost his balance, and had fallen to his death. Frank was trying to restore Lona to consciousness when he heard the rattle of rifle and revolver shots, the sound coming down faintly from above. Following it there was wild and continued cheering, and still more shooting. "It sounds like a battle," thought the boy. "I believe the outlaws have been attacked." He was right. For all that he fancied he had thrown his pursuers from the trail, Black Harry had been tracked to Cade's Canyon. The guard was captured while the assault on the hut was taking place, and then Hank Kildare, at the head of the trailers, swept down on the astonished braves. The battle was short and sharp, and but few of the outlaws escaped. Some were killed, and some were captured. One of the captured ruffians told them where to find Black Harry, Frank and the kidnaped girl. Lariats were tied together, and a line was made long enough to reach the bottom of the chasm. Lona Dawson was drawn up first, and then Frank tied the rope about the body of his double, permitting them to draw him to the top of the bluff. Frank came up last, and he found the men from Elreno in a rather dazed condition. "Is thar two Black Harrys?" asked one, staring at the dead boy, and then at his living counterpart. "Moses in der pulrushes!" groaned Solomon Rosenbum, who was on hand. "There vas only von, und he vas deat, vid der accent on der deat. Dat leds me oudt, und I don'd vas aple to take him pack East vor murter." "Take him back East for murder?" questioned a man. "What do you mean by that." "I mean that he is wanted in the East, and I have been tracking him for the last two months," said the supposed Jew, suddenly speaking without a trace of accent. "Who are you?" "I am Burchel Jones, a detective." "Burchel Jones! Impossible! Jones was the fellow who arrested this boy for Black Harry." "That fellow was not Burchel Jones; he is an impostor, and he was working for the reward offered for Black Harry's capture. If he is in Elreno when we get back there, I shall have a little settlement with him." Then Lona Dawson, who had recovered, told them how bravely Frank had fought for her, and the boy suddenly found himself regarded as a hero by the very ones who had been fierce to lynch him a short time before. "Hurro!" cried Barney Mulloy, who was on hand. "Oi knew ye'd come out at th' top av th' hape in th' ind, Frankie, be b'y!" And the delighted Irish boy gave his friend a "bear's hug." It was a triumphant party that returned to Elreno. Lona Dawson was restored to her wounded father, the body of Black Harry was placed on exhibition, and Frank was cheered and stared at by admiring eyes wherever he went. The bogus detective heard what had happened in time to leave the place and avoid meeting the real Burchel Jones. Robert Dawson did not die from his wound. He recovered in time, but, as he lay on his bed, with his daughter restored to him, he held out a hand to Frank, who had been summoned to that room, saying, fervently: "God bless you, young man! My daughter has told me everything. You shall be rewarded by anything it is in my power to give you." Frank laughed, his face flushing, as he gallantly returned: "Mr. Dawson, I have already been rewarded by the pleasure it gave me to be of service to your daughter in a time of peril." A week later Frank and his friends continued their journey westward, where fresh adventures awaited them. _ |
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