i ae NET ES eon D IN IT WERE SEATED TWO MEN. N Al iG. HI tion $2.5( rip = WHITE CANOE WAS APPROAC THE 7 ict IST oO 4U eran ee oe Ss 4 i Tip Top Issued Weekiy—By Subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second Class Matler at the N. Y. Post Office. LIBRAR Y. { STREET & SurTuH, 29 mone 80.52 Lntered Aceording to Act of Congress; in the Year 1896, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, W REN, ’D. August 22, 1896. Vol. 1. No. 19. Price Five Cents. FRANK MERRIWELLS MERCY? The Phantom of the Everglades. By the Ae of of “FRANK MERRIWEL ie CHAPTER THE MYSTERIOUS CANOE. “How much farther into this wild swamp do you intend to go, Frank ?”’ “T am going till I get a shot at a golden _heron.’”’ ‘‘Nonsense! There is no golden heron.’’ ‘You think so.”’ “T know it. The golden heron is a myth. White hunters have searched the remote fastnesses of the Florida swamps for a golden heron, but no such bird have they ever found. The Indians are the only ones to see golden herons.”’ ‘If the Indians can see them, white men may find them. I shall not be satis- fied till I have shot one.”’ ‘“Then you'll never be satisfied. ’” ‘Oh, I don’t know about that, pro- fessor. I am something of an Indian my- self. You know the Seminoles are TBH ER and peaceable, and——’’ ‘‘All Indians are liars. I would not take the word of a Seminole under any condition. Come, Frank, don’t be foolish; let’s turn round and go back. We may get bewildered on these winding water- ways which twist here and there through swamps of cypress and rushes. We were foolish to come without a guide, but——”’ ‘‘We could not obtain one until to- morrow, and I wished to come to-day.’’ “Vou may be sorry you did not wait.’’ ‘‘Now, you are getting scared, pro- fessor,’ laughed Frank Merriwell, lifting his paddle from the water, and laying it across the bow of the canoe. ‘‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do.”’ ‘CAll right.”? ‘“We’ll leave it to Barney, who has not had a word to say on the matter. If he says go back, we’ll go back.”’ Professor Scotch hesitated, scratched his fingers into his fiery beard, and then said : ‘Well, Pll have to do as you boys say anyway, so we’ll leave it to Barney.”’ ‘All right,’? laughed Frank, once more. ‘‘What do you say, Barney, my boy ?”? Barney Mulloy was in the stern of the canoe that had been creeping along one of the sluggish water courses that led through the cypress swamp and into the heart of the Florida Everglades. “Well, gintlemin,’’ he said, ‘‘Oi’ve been so busy thrying to kape thrack av 2 FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY, th’ twists an’ turruns we’ve been makin’ | thot Oi didn’t moind mutch pwhat ye! It wur something about | wur soaying. turning back. So the matter was laid before him, and, when he had heard what Frank and the} professor had to say, he declared: ‘Fer mesilf its nivver a bit do Oi care| where we go ur pwhat we do; but, as| Dla7e ; nj ? Plaze repate it again. long a we hiv come so fur, an’ Frankie| wants to go furder, Oi’dsoay go on till he was sick av it an’ reddy to turn back.”? ‘*There,~ -professor!’’ cried Frank; tha setties 1t:”’ ‘‘As I knew it would be settled,’’ growled Professor Scotch, sulkily. ‘You boys combine against me every ' time. Well, I suppose I'll have to submit.”’ So the trio pushed on still farther into the Great Dismal Swainp, a weird section of strange vegetable and animal life, where great black trees stood silent and grim, with Spanish moss dangling from | d_ birds| . snakes | their branches, bright-plumage flashed across the opens, ugly glided sinuously over the boggy land, and sleepy alligators slid from muddy banks and disappeared beneath the surface of the dead water. - The professor continued to grumble. “If we should come upon one of these wonderful golden herons, Frank could not come within a hundred yards of it with that old bow and arrow,’ he said. “Couldn’t I!’’ retorted Frank. ‘‘Per- haps not, but-I could make a bluff at it.” **T don’t see why you won’t use a gun.”’ ‘‘Well, there are two reasons. first place, in order to be sure of killing a heron with a shotgun I’d have to use fairly large shot, and that might injure the bird badly; in the second place, there might be two, and I’d not be able to bag more than one of them with a gun, as the report would scare the other. Then there is the possibility that I would miss with the first shot, and the heron would-escape entirely. If I miss with an arrow, it is not likely the bird will be alarmed and take to flight, so P’ll have another chance at it. Oh, there are some advantages in using the primitive bow and arrow.’’ ‘*Bosh!’? exploded Scotch. ‘‘You have a way of always making outa good case for yourself. You won’t be beaten.’’ ‘‘Begobs! he is a hard b’y to bate, profissor,’’ grinned Barney. ‘‘Av he wutn’t, its dead he’d been long ago.’ ‘“That’s right, that’s right,’’ agreed Scotch, who admired Frank more than he wished to acknowledge. ‘‘He’slucky.’’ “It’s not all luck, profissor,’’ assured the Irish boy. ‘‘In minny cases it’s pure nerve thot pulls him through.’ “Well, there’s a great-deal of luck in it—of course there is.’’ ‘‘Oh, humor the professor, Barney,’’ laughed Frank. ‘‘Perhaps he will become better natured if you do.’’ They now came to a region of wild cypress woods, where the tree-tops were literally packed with old nests, made in the peculiar heron style. They were con- structed of huge bristling piles of ¢ross- laid sticks, not unlike brush-heaps of a Western clearing. Here for years, almost ages, different species of herons had built their nests in perfect amity. As the canoe slowly and silently glided toward the ‘‘ - rookeries, herons wete seen to rise from the reed- grass and fly across the opens in a stately manner, with their long necks folded agains ir breasts, and their legs pro- In the +4gainst thei ists, and the gs pro jecting stiffly behind them. ‘“‘Pwoy don’t yez be satisfoied wid a few av th’ whoite wans, Frankie?’’ asked. Barney, softly. ‘‘Shure they’re handsome enough.’? ‘oThey’re handsome,’ admitted Frank ; ‘‘but a golden heron is worth a large sum as a curiosity, and I mean to have one.’’ ‘‘All roight, me b’y; have yer own way, lad.” t white and blue. ma ~ re ¥ “5 ‘ en FRANK MERRIWELL’S MEROY. ‘*He’ll do that anyhow,’’ mumbled Professor Scotch, gruffly. They could now see long, soldier-like lines of herons stretched out along the marshy swales, standing still and solemn, like pickets on duty. They were not particularly wary or wild, for they had not been hunted very mitch in the wild region which they in- habited. Little green herons were plentiful, and they kept flying up before the canoe con- stantly, scaring the others, till Frank erew very impatient, declaring: ‘Those little rascals will scare away a| golden heron, if we are fortunate enough to come upon one. Confound them!”’ | | | | | ‘“Ves, Oi see it now. Its whoite.”’ ‘“There must be other hunters near at hand,’’ said the professor. ‘The canoe is not drawn up to the bank,’’ said Frank, in a puzzled way. “It seems to be floating at some distance from the shore.’ ‘*Perhaps it is moored out there.’’ ‘‘Why should it be moored in such a place? ‘T‘here are no tides here, and alli- gators are not liable to steal canoes.”’ ‘“‘Do ye see inny soign av a camp, Frankie ?”’ “Not a sign of a camp or human being. ‘This is rather strange.”’ A strange feeling of wonder that swiftly changed to awe was creeping over then. ‘“‘Let me shoot a few av th’ varmints,’’ | The canoe was snowy white, and lay per- urged Barney, reaching for one of the|fectly motionless on the still surface of guns in the bottom of the canoe. ‘Not much!’’ returned Frank, quickly. ‘“Think what the report of a gun would do here. Keep still, Barney.’ ‘All roight,’? muttered the Irish lad, reluctantly relinquishing his hold on the gun., ‘‘Av ye soay kape still, kape still it iS. 9 Frank instructed the professor to take in his paddle, and Barney was directed to hold the canoe close to the edge of the tushes. In this manner, with Frank kneeling in the prow, an arrow ready notched on the string, he could shoot with very little delay. Beyond the heron rookery the water- way wound into the depths of a dark, for- bidding region, where the Spanish moss hung thick, and the great trees leaned ovet the water. They had glided past one side of the rookery and-were near this dark opening when an exclamation of surprise came from Frank Merriwell’s lips. ‘‘Pwhat is it, me b’y?’’ asked Barney, quickly. “A-canoe,’’ ‘ "Where 2? **See it yonder.’ the water. It was in the dark shadow be- neath the trees. : ‘‘Perhaps the owner of the canoe is lying in the bottom,’’ suggested the pro- fessor. ‘““Well see about that,’’? said Frank, putting down the bow and arrow, and taking up a paddle. ‘‘Head straight for her, Barney.”’ With the very first stroke in that direc- tion a most astonishing thing happened. The white canoe seemed to swing slightly about, and then, with no visible occupant and no apparent motive power, it glided smoothly and gently toward the dark depths of the black forest! ‘‘She’s floating away from us!’’ cried the professor. ‘‘There must be a strong current there!’’ ‘“‘Nivver a bit is she floating!’ gasped Barney Mulloy. ‘‘Will ye look at her go! Begobs! Oi fale me hair shtandin’ on me head !’ “She is not floating,’? Frank said. ‘‘See—she gains speed! Look at the rip- | ple that spreads from her prow!’’ ‘‘But— but,’’ spluttered Professor Scotch, ‘‘what is making her move— ) what is propelling her?” Bt FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY. ‘“That’s a mystery,’’ came from Frank ; ‘*hutit’s a mystery I mean to solve! Get out your paddle, professor. Keep straight after that canoe, Barney. We'll run her down and look her over.”’ Then a strange race began, canoe against canoe, the one in the lead appar- ently empty, the one pursuing containing three persons who were using all their strength and skill to overtake the empty craft. CHAPTER II. 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 seened to remain just the same, and the one in advance slipped through the water without a sound, following the winding watercourse beneath the dark trees and going deeper and deeper into the heart of the swamp. Other watercourses were passed, run- ning away into unknown and _ unexplor- able 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 !”’ ‘You are not superstitious—you have said so a score of times, at least.’’ ‘“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! Oidon’t wonder at thot,’ gurgled Barney Mulloy, wiping the great drops of perspiration from his forehead. ‘Its the divvil’s own canoe thot is sure!”’ ‘Oh, its simple enough!’ declared Frank, nettled. ‘“Thin ixplain it fer me, me b’y—ix- plain 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.’’ ‘‘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 explana- tion 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.”’ . “T am surprised at you, professor—I am more than surprised.’’ ‘‘T can’t help it if you are, my boy.”’ ‘‘T 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.”’ ‘‘Nonsense, professor!’ retorted Frank. Professor Scotch shook his head ina ‘most solemn manner. : ‘‘See that infernal canoe?’’ cried the professor, pointing at the mystic craft. —— pe MR te SORA Sean RE pe Bee eta OEMs pee i gti i MRR eR ae —— i { without solving the FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY. 5 “Tt has stopped out there in the shad-| ‘‘What’s the matter ?’’ asked Frank and ows.”’ : the professor, together. ‘And seems to be waiting for us to pursue again.’”’ ‘’That’s what its doing.’’ “*Y’'m ready !’’ exclaimed Frank. “Tt am not,’’ decisively declared Pro- fessor Scotch. ‘‘Nayther am Oi!’’ almost shouted the|a Irish youth. ‘‘Its enough av this koind av busiffess Oi’ve been in!’’ t “We'll turn about,’’ said Scotch, {1 grimly. ‘That canoe will lure us into this dismal swamp so far that we’ll never|s find our way out. We’ll turn once. ”’ Frank laughed. ‘All right,’’ he said. | mystery of that canoe.’”’ can’t foind our way out at all, at all,’’ said the Irish lad. “T’m afraid we’ll not be able to get out before nightfall,’’ confessed the pro-| overtake it, let it overtake us. ‘“‘T have no fancy for spending a| very good scheme.’’ fessor. night in this swamp.’’ about at| very nearly upsetting them all. “I suppose I’ll|out av this,’’ have to give up, but Ido dislike to leave| agitated tone of voice. Frank, sharply. “Tt may be thot we’re so far in thot we | do—drown us all? ‘“’Thot whoite canoe!’’ ‘“What of it ?”’ ‘‘Look back! Th’ thing is afther folly- ing av us!’’ They looked back, and, sure enough, there was the mysterious canoe, gliding fter them like a most uncanny thing! “Well, I like that!’’ said Frank, ina one that plainly indicated he did not like t. ‘This is very pleasant!’ ‘Pull, pull!’? throbbed the professor, plashing his paddle into the water and ‘Don’t et the thing overtake us! Pull, pull!’’ ‘*‘Oi think its a foine plan to be gettin’ muttered Barney, in an there, professor,’’ called ‘““What do you want to Keep cool.”’ ‘“‘Tt’s coming !’’ fluttered the little man, ‘*Steady, wildly. ‘Tet it come. As long as we could not That is a ‘Th? skame won’t worruck, me b’y. ) Barney promptly expressed his dislike| Th’ ould thing’s shtopped.”’ for such an adventure, but Frank was silent. It. was true; the white canoe had stopped, and was lying calmly on the The canoe was turned about, and they|inky surface of the shadowed water. set about the task of retracing the water- ‘Well, i can’t say that I like this,’ courses by which they had come far into} said Frank. the swamp. It was not long before they came toa 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, al- though 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!” ‘And I scarcely think I like it more than you do,’’ came from the professor. ‘‘An’ th’ both av yes 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. “T 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?’ de- manded Frank, sharply. ‘‘You both ap- pear like frightened children!” “‘No telling what'll come of it if you shoot.”? “Pll 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 befoolish! 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 rcund 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!’ eried Frank, triumphantly. ‘Hit it!’?? echoed the professor, quiver- ing with terror. ‘‘Hit it?’ groaned Barney MuHoy, his face white and his eyes staring. ‘‘May all the saints defind us!’’ . “Look!’’ shouted Frank. ‘‘She is turn- ing about—she is going to leave us! But Ill 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. “je ““Why did you do that?’’? demanded Frank, angrily. 3 **T couldn’t see you shoot into that canoe again,’’ faltered the agitated pro-| fessor. ‘‘It was too much—too much!’ FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY. * shook his head. He could, not explain, and he was ashamed of his agitation and fears. Professor Scotch | : | ‘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 tight, Frank,’’ from the professor’s lips. caine humbly **T can’t help it, and I haven’t a word to say.”’ ‘‘But I will take one more shot At that cande!’’ vowed Frank. ‘‘Not. this day,’’ chuckled Barney Mulloy. ‘‘She’s gone!’ It was true that the mysterious canoe had vanished from view while they were speaking. CHAPTER III. IN THE EVERGLADES. **Gone!”” ** Disappeared !”? The exclamations came from Frank and Professor Scotch. Barney’s chuckle changed to a shiver, and his teeth chattered. ’ | ‘“Th’ ould b’y’s in it!’ he chatteringly declared. ‘“The old boy must have been in that canoe,’’ agreed the professor. Frank was puzzled and disappointed. | He still refused to believe there was any- thing supernatural about the mysterious white canoe, but he was forced to ac- done most amazing things. “It simply slipped into some branch waterway while we were not looking,’ he said, speaking calmly, as if it were the ost commonplace thing imaginable. ‘*Well; it’s gone,’ said Scotch, as if greatly relieved. ‘‘Now, let’s get out of this in a great hurry.’ ‘‘T am for going back to see what has become of the white canoe,’’ said Frank, with deliberate intent to make his com- ‘What do you mean by that??? + ; panions squirm. knowledge to himself that the craft had > sane OD , nontraantt DFMO A ME > | . ig aS pe ma i ena pate a = ees ee ee ape naian, ete EA Sr ct, ee Sagem. ' ince MS claimed Barney, somewhat touched. - FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY. 7 Barney and the professor raised a per- fect howl of protest. ‘““Never!’’? shouted Scotch, nearly up-| setting the boat in his excitement, and) wildly flourishing his arms in the air. “Nivver!’’? ‘squealed the Irish lad. ‘‘Oi?1l joomp overboard an’ swim out av this before Oi’ll go back!’’ Frank laughed. ‘You are most amusing,’’ he declared. ‘‘T suppose I’ll have to give in to you, as you are two to one.”’ “Come on,’’ fluttered the professor, ‘Vet’s be moving.’’ So Frank put down the rifle and picked up his paddle, and they resumed their effort to get out of the swamp before nightfall. 3ut the afternoon was well advanced, and night was much nearer than they had thought, as they were soon to dis- cover. At last Barney cried: ‘(i see loight enough ahead! We must be near out av th’ woods.’’ Frank Merriwell said nothing. Fora long time he had been certain they were on the wrong course, but he hoped it would bring them out somewhere. He had noted the light that indicated they were soon to reach the termination of the cypress swamp, but he held his enthu- siasm in check till.he could be sure they had come out somewhere near where they entered the dismal region. Professor Scotch grew enthusiastic im- mediately. “Wal? he cried, punching Frank in the back. young man? Do you mean to say that we don’t know our business? What if we had accepted your way of getting out of the swamp! We’d been in there‘now, sir.”’ “Don’t crow till you’re out of the woods,’’ advised Frank. ‘“‘Begobs! _ Qi belave he’d be plazed av we didn’t get out at all, at all!’ ex- ‘What do you think now, | In a short time they came to the ter- mination of the cypress woods, but, to the surprise of Barfiey and the professor, the swainp, overgrown with tall rushes and reed-grass, continued, with the water- course winding away through it. ‘‘Pwhat th’ ould boy does this mane ?”’ cried the Irish lad. ‘It means,’’ said Frank, coolly, ‘‘that we have reached the Everglades.”’ ‘Th? Iverglades? Well, pwhat do we rant av thim, Oi dunno ?”’ ‘They are one of the sights of Florida, Barney.”? ‘It’s soights enough I’ve seen alreddy. |Oi’d loike ter git out av this.”’ “T knew you wouldn’t get out this | way, for we have not passed the rookeries of the herons, as you must remember.’ ‘““That’s true,’’ sighed the professor, dejectedly. ‘‘I hadn’t thought of that. What can we do, boys ?”’ ‘“Turn about, and retrace our steps,’’ said Frank. But Barney and the professor raised a vigorous protest. ‘‘Nivver a bit will yez get me inther thot swamp again th’ doay!’’ shouted the Irish lad, in a most decisive manner. “Tf we go back, we'll not be able to get out before darkness comes on, and we'll have to spend the night in the swamp,’’ said Scotch, excitedly. ‘‘I can’t do that.” ‘Well, what do you propose to do?”’ asked Frank, quietly. ‘‘I don’t seem to have anything to say in this matter. You are running it to suit yourselves.”’ They were undecided, but one thing was certain; they would not go back into the swamp. The white canoe was there, and the professor and the Irish lad did not cate to see that again. ; ‘‘Whoy not go on, Frankie?’ asked Barney. ‘‘We’re out av th’ woods, an’, by follyin’ this strame, we ought to get out av th’ Iverglades.”’ ‘““What do you say, professor?’’ asked 8 FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY. Frank, who was rather enjoying the ad- venture, although he did not fancy the idea of spending a night on the marsh. “Go on—by all means, go on!’’ roared the little man. ‘‘Go on it is, then. We'll proceed to explore the Everglades in company with Professor Scotch; the noted scientist and daring adventurer. Go ahead!’ So they pushed onward into the Ever- glades, while the sun sank lower and lower, finally dropping beneath the horizon. Night was coming on, and they were in the heart of the Florida Everglades! The situation was far from pleasant. Barney and the professor fell to growl- ing at each other, and they kept it up, while Frank smiled and remained silent. At length, Scotch took in his paddle in disgust, groaning: ‘'We’re lost! “Tam inclined to think so myself,” admitted Frank, cheerfully. ‘Well, who’s to blame, Oi’d loike to know ??’ cried the Irish lad. ‘You are!’’ roared the professor, like a wounded lion. “‘G’ wan wid yez!’’ exploded Barney. “It’s yersilf thot is to blame! Frankie wanted to go the other woay, but ye said no.’’ ‘“Me! me! me!’’ howled the professor, ‘‘Did I? You were the one! You insisted that this was the proper course to pursue! You are to blame for it all!’ “*Profissor, ye’re a little oulder thin Oi be, but av ye wur nigh me age, Oi’d inform ye thot ye didn’t know how to spake th’ truth.”’ ‘‘Do you mean to call mea liar, you impudent young rascal ?”’ ‘“Not now, profissor; but I would av ye wur younger.”’ “It?s all the same! It’s an insult, sir!” ‘Well, phwat are yez goin’ to do about ‘‘1’ll make you swallow the words, you scoundrel !”’ ‘Well, thot would be more av a male thin the rist av ye are loikely to get th’ noight, so it is.’ ‘‘Come, come,’’ laughed Frank; ‘‘this is no time nor place to quarrel.’’ ‘You're right, Frank ; but this ungrate- ful young villain makes me very tired!’ ‘Careful, professor—slang.”’ “Excuse me, but you know human beings are influenced by their surround- ings and associates. If I have——’’ ‘‘Professor!’’? cried Frank, reproach- fully. ‘‘You would not accuse me of hav- ing taught you to use slang ?”? ‘‘Ah—ha—ahem! No, no—that is, you see—er—well, er, that Dutch boy was always saying something slangy.”’ **Hans?”? (Ves, ” : ‘Professor! professor! He’s not here to defend himself.’’ ‘Oh, well! oh, well! Ha! ha! hal Quite a joke—quite a little joke, you know! You-always appreciate a joke, Frank. You are full of fun yourself.’’ The professor was rattled. As under the circumstances, there was nothing else to do, they finally paddled slowly forward, looking for a piece of dry land, where they. could stop and camp for the night. They approached a small cluster of trees, which rose above the rushes, and it was seen that they seemed to be grow- ing on land that was fairly high and dry. ‘‘We’ll stop there,’’ decided Frank. “It’s not likely we’ll find another place like that anywhere in the Everglades. ”’ As they came nearer, they saw the trees seemed to be growing on an island, for the watercourse divided and ran on either side of them. “Just the place for a camp!’’ cried Frank, delightedly. ‘‘This is really a very interesting and amusing adventure. ”’ it ?”’ “It may be for you,’’ groaned the pro- ry peice De sages ¢ a d ntti nies. ten, at MR, cere, SF FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY. 9 fessor; ‘‘but you forget that it is said to be possible for persons to lose themselves in the Everglades and never find their way out.’’ ‘‘On the contrary, I remember it quite well. In fact, it is said that, without a guide, the chances of finding a way out of the Everglades is small indeed.”’ ‘Well, what do you feel so exuberant about ?’’ ‘““Why, the possibility that we’ll all perish in the Everglades adds zest to this adventure—makes it. really interesting.’’ ‘“‘Frank, you’re a puzzle tome. You are cautious about running into danger of any sort, but, once in it, you seem to take a strange and unaccountable delight in the peril. The greater the danger, the happier you seem to feel.’’ ‘“’Thot’s roight,’’ nodded Barney. “When I am not in danger, my good judgment tells me to take no chances; but when I get into it fairly, I know the only thing to be done is to make the best of it. I delight in adventure—I was born for it!’ A dismal sound came from the profes- sor’s throat. ‘““When-your uncle died,’’ said Scotch, “T thought him my friend—although we had quarreled, I fancied the hatchet was buried. He made me your guardian, and I still believed he had died with nothing but friendly feelings toward me. But he knew you, and now I believe it was an act of malice toward me when he made me your guardian. And, to add to my suffer- ings, he decreed that I should trave! with you. Asher Dow Merriwell deliberately plotted against my life! He knew the sort of a career you would lead me, and he died chuckling in contemplation of the misery and suffering you would inflict upon me! That man was a monster—an inhuman wretch !”’ ‘‘Look there!’’ cried Barney, pointing toward the small, timbered island. ‘“What is it?” eae ‘‘May Ould Nick floy away wid me av it ain’t a house!”’ CHAPTER IV. THE HUT ON THE ISLAND. ‘fA house ?”’ “SA cabin !”? ‘fA hut amid the trays, begobs!”’ In a little clearing on some rising ground amid the trees they could see the hut. ‘Ts it possible any one lives here ?’’ ex- claimed the professor. “It looks as if some one stops here at times, at least,’’ said Frank. ‘‘Av this ain’t a clear case av luck, Oi dunno mesilf!’’ “We'll get the man who lives there to guide us out of the Everglades!’’ shouted the professor, in a relieved tone. Then Frank cast a gloom over their spirits by saying: ‘’This may be a hunter’s cabin, in- habited only at certain seasons of the year. ‘Ten to one, there’s no one living in it now.’’ ‘“‘Vou’d be pleased if there wasn’t!’ almost snarled Professor Scotch. ‘‘You’re a boy without a heart!”’ ; Frank laughed softly. ‘‘We’ll soon find out if there’s any one at home,’’ he said, as the canoe ran up to the bank, and he took care to get out first. As soon as Frank was out, the professor made a scramble to follow him. He rose to his feet, despite Barney’s warning cry, and, a moment later, the cranky craft flipped bottom upward with the swiftness of a flash of lightning. The professor and the Irish lad disap- peared beneath the surface of the water. Barney’s head popped up in a moment, and he stood upon his feet, with the water to his waist, uttering some very vigorous words.. ig Up came the professor, open flew his _ 10 FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY. mouth, out spurted a stream of water, and|aquarium, I’d just lie down and refuse to then he wildly roared: Bites another effort to get up.”’ ‘“Help! Save me! Ican’t swim! I’m| Then he waded out, the look on his drowning!’ face causing Frank to double up with Before either of the boys could. say ajmerriment, while even the_ wretched word he went under again. Barney smiled. ‘“This is th’ firrust tome Oi iver sawa| Barney would have waded out, but man thot wanted to drown in thray fate| Frank said: av warther,’’ said Barney. ‘‘Don’t attempt to land without those Frank sat down on the dry ground, andj guns, old man.. ‘‘They’re somewhere on shouted with laughter. the bottom, and we want them.”’ Up popped the professor a second time.| So Barney was forced to plunge under ‘“Help!? he bellowed, after he had/}the surface and feel around till he had spurted another hig stream of water from | fished up the rifles and the shotgun. his mouth. ‘Will you see me perish be-| Frank had taken care of his bow and fore your very eyes? Save me, Frank!’’|arrows, the latter being in a quiver at his But Frank was laughing so heartily;back, and the paddles had not floated that he could not say a word, and the|away. little man went down once more. | After a time, everything was recov- ‘‘Begobs! he really manes to drown!’’|ered, the canoe was drawn out and tipped said Barney, in disgust. bottom upward, and the trio moved ‘“Grab him!’? gasped Frank. ‘‘Don’t| toward the cabin, Frank leading, and let him go down again. Oh, my! what a) ‘the professor staggering along behind. scrape! This beats our record!’ | Reaching the cabin, Frank rapped For the third time the professor’s head: loudly on the door. appeared above the surface, and the pro-| No answer. fessor’s voice weakly called: Once more he knocked, and then, as ‘Will no one save me? ‘This is a plot'there was no reply, he pushed the door to get me out of the way! Oh, Frank, lopen and entered. Frank! I never thought this of you : The cabin was not occupied by any Farewell! May you be happy when I am | living being, but a glance showed the trio gone!”? |that some one had been there not many ‘Stand up!’’ shouted Frank, seeing | hours before, for the embers of a fire still that the little man had actually resigned | glowed dimly on the open hearth mr flat himself to drown. ‘‘Get your feet under| stones. you. The water is shallow there.’’ There were two rooms, the door be- The professor stood up, and an expres-| tween them being open, so the little party sion of pain, surprise, and disgust settled | could look into the second. on his face, as he thickly muttered: _ The first room seemed to be the prin- ‘‘May I be kicked! And I’ve been| cipal room of the hut, while the other was under the water two-thirds of the time for}a bedroom. ‘They could see the bed the last hour! I’ve swallowed more than | through the open doorway. two barrels of this swamp-water, includ-| The furniture, for the most part, was ing, in all probability, 4 few dozen polly-|rude, home-made stuff, and still every wogs, lizards, young alligators, and other| piece showed that the person who con- delightful things! If the water wasn’t so| structed it had skill and taste. blamed dirty here and I wasn’t afraid of] There. were chairs, a table, a couch, _ swallowing enough creatures to start an and so forth. . ae 2 lis th ed at ~ SN i watt: a i cate FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY. 11 Around the walls were hung various | Exploring the place, they found it well stocked with provisions, which caused and clean. | them all to feel delighted. They quickly noted that everything} ‘‘I’m actually glad we came!’ laughed about the place seemed clean. [Frank. ‘‘This is fun galore.”’ What surprised them the most was the| ‘It will be all right, if we are able to wire screens in the windows, a screen | get out of the scrape,” said Scotch. door that swung inward, anda musquito- | Jarney built a fire, while Frank. pre- bar canopy over the bed and the couch. | pared to make bread and cook supper, ““By Jove!’’ cried Frank; ‘‘the person | haying found everything necessary for the tin pans and dishes, all polished bright who lives here is prepared to protect him-| accomplishment of the task. self against musquitoes and black flies.”’ | The professor stripped off his outer “Tt would be impossible to live here in |garments, wrung the water out of them, the summer,’’ gravely declared Professor) and hung them up before the fire to dry. Scotch, forgetting his own misery for the tHe example wis: followed: by the Sata moment. ‘he pests would drive a man) | boy. ; crazy.” "| They made themselves as comfortable “Oh, I don’t -know about that,’’ re- turned Frank. . “‘If“a man knew how to| defend himself against them he might g along all right. They can’t be worse ci z : ; | Frank succeeded in cooking some bread the mtisquitoes of Alaska in the warm | e eB : jin the stone oven. He found coffee, and months. Up there the Indians get along oe la pot. bubbled on the coals, sending out all right, even though musquitoes, have | ° : i; an odor that made the trio feel ravenous. been known to kill a bear. i : ee : i [here were candles in abundance, and Pwhat’s thot? gutgled Barney. i et ichted. TY ee ee : : -|two of them were lighted. 1en, when “Kill a bear? Oh, Frankie, me b’y, O1 = ; nivver thought that av you!”’ ‘‘Tt’s true,’ affirmed Professor Scotch. ‘‘Sometimes bears, lured by hunger, will come. down into the lowlands, where musquitoes will attack them, They will | - stand up on their hind legs and strike at the little pests with their forward paws. Sometimes a bear will do this till he 4s exhausted and falls. Then the musquitoes fs ; finish him. ‘“Fhot’s a harrud yarn to belave, pro- “fissor; but it goes av you soay so.’? — | ‘Vou may change your tune before we Dp there,’’ said Frank, ae ledtaus get out,’’ said the professor, whose trou-. ‘Smear their faces and wands with some} Sets were dry, and who was now feeling las possible, and night came on, finding pee in a much- better frame of mind than they had expected to be. ; everything was ready, they sat down to |the table and enjoyed a supper that put ‘| them in the best of moods. The door of the hut was left open, and | the light shone out upon the overturned canoe and the dark water bey ond. After supper they cleaned and dried the rifles and shot-gun. ‘By jingoes!’4 laughed Frank; ‘‘this is a tegular picnic! Fm glad we ook the pee wrong course and came here.’’ *> . - . y _ kind of sticky stuff that keeps the musqui-| of his coat to see how.that was, coming toes from reaching their flesh. In this}OM- . A x way they get along very well.’’ ' “Don’t croak, profissor,’’? advised Bar-, But they had something to talk about|ney. ‘‘You’re th’ firrust mon Oi iver saw -besides the Indians of Alaska, for the|thot wuz bound ter drown himsilf in surprises around them. furnished “topics|thray fate av warther. Ha! ha! ha!”’ for conversation. ‘ . ‘Oh, laugh, laugh!’’ snapped the little . j ) ’ : * baste: oy i my 3 ie . ¥ yp a < ee ; : , ; 42 man, fiercely. that some time! What fools boys are!’’ After supper they lay around and took things easy. Barney and Frank told stories till it was time to go to bed, and they finally turned in, first having barred the door and made sure the windows were securely fastened. They soon slept, but they were not to rest quietly through the night. Other mysterious things were soon to follow those of the day. CHAPTER V. A WILD NIGHT IN THE SWAMP. Clang! clang! clang! = Spe 2 “Turn out!’ The boys leaped to their feet, and the professor came tearing out of the bed- room, ran into the table, which he over- turned with a great clatter of dishes, reeled backward, and sat down heavily on the floor, where he rubbed his eyes and muttered : “*T thought that fire-engine was going to run sc down before I could get out of the way.’ ‘*Fire- er cried Frank Merriwell. ‘‘Who ever heard of a fire-engine in the heart of the Florida Everglades!”’ ‘*Begobs! Oi herrud th’ gong,’’ de- clared Barney. ee - “So did I,’’ asserted the professor. “T heard something that sounded like a _ fire-gong,’? admitted Frank! . ‘‘Pwhat was it, Oi dunno? . | “Tt seemed to come from beneath the Pe % head of the bed in there, ’” said Scotch, wes WAL OK thought I herrud it ‘undet me | P haath out here,”’ purgled Barney. (Wet will light a candle, and look “around, ”” said Frank. | A candle was lighted, and they looked _ for the cause of the night alarm, but they found nothing that explained the mystery. ~ FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY. “*T’]] get even with you for on a stack av Boibles. VY. afther gettin’ away from here we’d better be, mark me worrud.”’ ‘‘What makes you think that?’’ de- manded Frank, sharply. ‘It’s spooks there be place, ur Oi’m mistaken!”’ “‘Oh, I’ve heard enough about spooks! It’s getting tiresome. ”’ around this The professor was silent, but he shook his head in a very mysterious manner, as if he thought a great many things he did not care to speak about. They had been thoroughly awakened ~ oD d > | but, after a time, failing to discover what had aroused them, they decided to return ito bed. ive minutes after they lay down, Frank and the professor were brought to their feet by a wild howl and a thud. They rushed out of the bedroom and nearly fell over Barney, who was lying in the middle of the floor, at least eight feet from the couch. ‘‘What is the matter with you?’’ cried Frank, astonished. ‘‘Oi was touched !”’ palpitated the Irish lad, thickly. . MP otiched 3! ‘“Thot’s pwhat!’? ‘*What do you mean by that?”’ ‘Oi wur jist beginning to get slapy whin something grabbed me an’ threw me clan out here in th’ mfddle av tl? room.’ “Oh, say! what are you trying to make us believe!’ ‘*Qi’ll swear to it, ee swear Barney ; You dream ed it, ‘*Nivver a drame, me b’y, fer Oi wasn’t» aslape at all, at all.” “But you may have been asleep, for you. say you were beginning to ae sleeey There i isn t ee here to grab ~ you,” %) ‘‘Whist!’ hissed theIrish boy. ‘‘It’s ‘‘Oi dunno about thot, Frankie, f es zee that’s ee | what’s the matter. ” Ler ee 2) ‘Doak 1 csi ecetmae ise 4 FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY. 13 incloined to belave th’ ould b’y’s around, so Oi am.”’ “Oh, this-is tiresome! Go back to bed, and keep still.’’ ‘‘Nivver a bit will Oi troy to slape on thot couch again th’ noight, me b’y. Oi’ll shtay roight here on th’ flure.’ ‘*Sleep where you like, but Kes still. ‘bhat’s all..”? Frank was somewhat nettled by these frequent interruptions of his rest, and he was more than tempted to give Barney \of all three, seated in 1 cause to believe tlie hut really haunted, | for he was an expert ventriloquist, and | he could have indulged in a great deal of sport with the Irish boy. But other things were soon to take up their attention. While they were talking a strange humming arose on every side and seemed to fill the entire hut. At first, it was like a swarm of bees, but it grew louder and louder till it threatened to swell.into a roar. Professor Scotch was nearly frightened out of his wits. “Tt is the end of everything!’’ he sKrieked, making a wild dash for the door, which he flung wide open. But the professor did not rush out of Instead, he flung up his hands, and nearly fell to the cabin. staggered backward, the floor. ‘The white canoe!’ he faintly gasped, clutching at empty air for support. Frank sprang forward, catching and steadying the professor. ‘“The white canoe—where?”’ Out there!’ Sure enough, on the dark surface of the water, Siecitig: in front of the hut, lay the mysterious canoe. And now this singular craft was illumi- nated from stem to stern by a soft white light that showed its outlines plainly. ‘*Sint Patherick presarve us!’’ panted Barney Mulloy. ae am getting tired of being chased 5 around by a canoe!’’ grated Frank, as he hastily sought one of the rifles. **Don’t shoot!’ entreated the professor, in great alarm. ‘‘Av yer do, our goose is cooked!’ flut- | tered Barney. Frank threw a fresh cartridge into the rifle, and turned toward the open door, his mind fully made up. And then, to the profound amazement the canoe there seemed to be an old man, with white hair and long white beard. ‘The soft white ight seemed to come from every part of | his person, as it came from the canoe. Frank Merriwell paused, with the rifle partly lifted. ‘It’s th’ spook himsilf!’’ gasped Bar- ney, covering his face with his hands and clinging to the professor. ‘“That’s right!’ faintly said Scotch. ‘‘For metcy’s sake, don’t shoot, Frank! We’re lost if you do!”’ Frank was startled and astonished, but he was determined not. to lose his nerve, no matter what happened. The man in the canoe seemed to be looking directly toward the cabin. He slowly lifted one hand, and pointed away across the Everglades, at the same time motioning with the other hand, as if for them to go in that direction. “Pll just send a bullet over his head, to see what he thinks of it,’’ said Frank, softly, lifting the rifle. Then another startling thing hia tne neal Canoe and man disappeated in the twinkling of an eye! The trio in the hut eae and rubbed their eyes. ‘‘Gone!”’ cried Frank. ‘Vanished !’’ panted the professor. ‘An’ now Oi suppose ye’ll say it wur no ghost ?’’ gurgled Barney. - It was extremely dark beneath the shadow of the cypress trees, and not a _ sign of the mysterious canoe could they See: rae from the coast. Here is another mystery. ” ~. av thim, Frankie ?’’ 14 FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY. ‘Tt is evident he did-not care to have me send a bullet whizzing past his ears,’’ laughed Frank, who did not seem in the least disturbed. ‘‘What are your nerves made of?’ de- manded Professor Scotch, in a shaking tone of voice. ‘‘” ‘Hark !”? Frank’s hand fell on the professor’s ‘hey must be iron!’’ arm, and the three listened intently, hear- ing something that gave them no little surprise. From far away through the night came the sound of hoarse voices singing a wild, doleful song. ‘‘Hamlet’s ghost!’’ ejaculated the pro- fessor. “Pwhat the ould Nick does thot mane ?’’ cried Barney. ‘Hark!’ Frank again ‘‘Let’s see*if we can understand the words they are singing. Be still.”’ cautioned. ‘We sailed away fiom Gloucester Bay, And the wind was n the west, yo ho! rum ; Our grog it was made of the best, yo ho!”’ ‘fA sailor’s song,’’ decided Frank, and those are sailors who are singing. We are not alone in the eee <4 ‘*They’re all drunk,’’ declared the pro- fessor. ‘‘You can tell that by the sound of oe voices. Drunken men are danger-| hs." >.- ‘They're a blamed soight betther than none, fer it’s loikely they ee th? way | out av this blissid swamp,’ said Barney. ““They mav bub-bub-be pup- pup- pup- pirates !’chattered the»professor. ‘What sticks me,’’ said Frank, ‘“‘is| how a party of sailors ever "made their | way in here; for we are miles upon miles ‘“Ar ye fer takin’ a look at th ’ loikes “Certainly, and that ‘without delay. ‘* Never!’ ‘*What do you mean ?”? ‘‘Tam not going near those ruffianly and bloodthirsty pirates.’’ ‘Then you may stay here with the spooks, while Barney and I go.’’ This was altogether too much for the professor, and, when he found they really intended to go, he gave in. Frank loaded the rifles and the shot-gun, and took along his bow and arrows, even though Barney made sport of him for | bothering with the last. They slipped the canoe into the water, and, directed by Frank, the professor suc- ceeded in getting in without upsetting ithe frail affair. ‘Oi hope we won’t run inther the ghost,’’ uttered the Irish boy. ‘“The sound of that singing comes from the direction in which the old man seemed to point,’’ said Frank. This was true, as they all remembered. The singing continued, sometimes sink- And her cargo was.some New England|i1g to a low droning sound, sometimes rising to a wild wail that sounded weirdly over the marshland. ‘*Ready,’ the watercourse. . The singing ceased after a time, but they were still guided by the sound of | wrangling voices. “They are quarreling!’ exclaimed Frank, softly. ‘“This is tut-tut-terrible!’’ stuttered the professor. Suddenly the sound Of a pistol-shot feminine shriek of pain or terror! ———_ ——_ - CHAPTER VI. FRANK’S SHOT. » Frank Merriwell and his two compan-, ‘| ions were profoundly astonished., As soon as he could recover, Frank asked: — a $ _ Come, professor.’’ - ‘‘Did you hear that ?”’ said Frank, and the canoes, | Slipped silently over the dark surface of came over thé rushes, followed .by a ~ nape cnr soi ihe tee taneimeeat igen a toe oa Sea} prea tetera bilgi sonatnininioceteripe mie ot Gee RE Sef FRANK ‘*Ay course we hearrud it!’ a ‘Tt sounded very much like the et of a woman or girl,’’? said Professor| Scotch, who was so amazed that he for-| got for the moment that he was scared. : ‘“That’s what it was,’’ declared Frank | Barney, excitedly. | ‘fand it means that our aid is needed in | that quarter at once.”’ ! ‘Be careful! be cautious!’’ warned the | professor. ‘‘There’s no telling what kind | of a gang we may run into.”’ ‘(To thunder with thot!’’ grated Bar- | ney Mulloy, quivering with eagerness. | ‘’There’s a female in nade av hilp.’’ | ‘““Go ahead!’ directed Frank, giving] utterance to his old maxim. The professor was too agitated ‘to | handle a paddle, so the task of propelling | the canoe fell to the boys, who sent it| skimming over the water, Frank watch- | ing out for snags. Ina moment the watercourse swept'| round to the left, and they soon saw the | light of a fire gleaming through the rushes. The sounds of a conflict continued, tell- ing them that the quarrel was still on, and aiding them in forming their course. In a moment they came in full view of the camp-fire, by the light of which they saw several strifygling, swaying figures. Frank Merriwell’s keén eyes seemed to take in everything at one sweeping glance. Six men and a girl were revealed by the light of the fire. Five of the men were engaged in a fierce battle, while the six was bound in a standing position to the trunk of a tree. The girl, with her hands bound behind her back, was standing near the man who was tied to the tree, and the firelight fell fairly on the faces of man and girl. A low exclamation of the utmost aston- ishment broke from Frank’s lips. ‘Tt can’t be—it is an impossibility !’’ MERRIWELL’S MERCY. 15 ‘“‘Pwhat is it, me b’y?’’ quickly de- manded Barney. : ‘“The man—the girl! Look, Barney! do you know them ?”’ | ‘*Oi dunno.’’ “Well, I know! ‘There is no mistake. That is Captain Justin Bellwood whose vessel was lost in the storm at Fardale! I aim certain of it!’’ *fAn’ th’ girrul is—— **Hlsie Bellwood, his daughter!”’ ‘“Th’ wan you saved from th’ foire, 19 Frankie?’ ‘*As sure as fate!’ “It can’t be possible!”’ fluttered Pro- fessor Scotch. ‘‘Captain Bellwood has a new vessel, and he would not be here. You must be mistaken, Frank.”’ ‘‘Not on your life! That is Captain Bellwood and his daughter. There is no mistake about it, professov.”’ “But how——”’ ‘“’There has been some kind of trouble, and they are captives—that is plain enough. Those men are sailors ; ‘Captain Bellwood’s sailors! Its likely there has been a mutiny. We must save them.”’ ‘*How can it be done?”’ _ ‘We must land while those ruffians are | fighting. We are well armed. If we can get ashore, we’ll set the captain free, and I fancy we’ll be able to hold our own with thosé ruffians, desperate wretches though they are.”’ ‘‘Wait,’? advised the timid professor. ‘‘Perhaps they will kill each other, and then our part will be easy.’ Frank was not for waiting, but, at that moment, something happened that caused him to change his plan immediately. The fighting ruffians were using knives in a deadly way, and one man, bleeding from many wounds, fell exhausted to the ground. Another, who seemed to be this one’s comrade, tore himself from the. other three, leaped to the girl, caught her in his arms, and held her\in front of him, he said. Pad so that her body shielded his. Then, 16 FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY. pointing a revolver over her shoulder, he snarled: “Come on, and I’ll bore the three of ye! You can’t shoot me, Gage, unless you kill ther gal!’ The youngest one of the party, a mere boy, but a fellow with the air of a des- perado, stepped to the front, saying swiftly: “Tf you don’t drop that girl, Jaggers, you'll leave your carcass in this swamp! That is business, my hearty.”’ Frank Merriwell clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from uttering a great shout of amazement. The next moment, he panted: ‘““This is fate! Look, Barney! by the eternal skies, that is Leslie Gage, my worst enemy at Fardale Academy, and the fellow who ran away to keep from being expelled. It was reported that he had gone to sea.’’ “‘VYe’re roight, Frankie,’’ agreed the no less excited Irish lad. ‘‘It’s thot skunk, an’ no mistake!’ _ _ “It is Leslie Gage,’’ agreed the pro- fessor. ‘‘He was ever a bad boy, but I did not think he would come to this.”’ ‘An’ Oi always thought he would come to some bad ind. It wur thot spal- pane thot troied to run Frank through with a sharpened foil wan toime whin they wur fencing. He had black murder in his hearrut thin, an’ its not loikely th’ whilp has grown inny betther since.’’ ‘*Keep still,’’ whispered Frank. ‘‘Let’s hear what is said.’’ The man with the girl laughed de- fiantly, retorting: ‘2 ‘You talk big, Gage, but it won’t work with me. I hold the best hand just at present, and you’ll have to come to terms. Keep back!”’ « “You don’t dare shoot,’’ returned the _ young desperado, as he took still another _ step toward the sailor. | | In a moment, the man placed the muz- zle of the revolver against the temple of the helpless girl, fiercely declaring: ‘If you come anotner inch, I'll blow her brains out!’’ ‘The dastard!’’ grated Frank. ‘‘Oh, the wretch! Wait, I will fix him, or my name is not Merriwell!”’ He drew an arrow from the quiver and fitted the notch to the bow-string. His nerves were steady, and he was deter- mined. .He waited till the man had re- moved the muzzle of the weapon from the girl’s temple, and then he lifted the bow. Barney and the professor caught their breath. They longed to check Frank, but dared not speak for fear of causing him to waver and send the arrow at the girl. _The bow was bent, the line was taut, the arrow was drawn to the head, and then— Twang! The arrow sped through the air, but it was too dark for them to follow its flight with their eyes.” With their |hearts in their mouths they awaited the result. Of a sudden, the ruffian uttered a cry of pain, released his hold on the girl, and fell heavily to the ground. The firelight showed the arrow stick- ing in his shoulder! ‘Ugh!’ grunted a voice close beside the canoe. boy. Not many could do.that.”’ The trio turned in astonishment and alarm, and, within three feet of them, they saw a shadowy canoe that contained a shadowy figure. There was but one person in the strange canoe, and he im- mediately added: ‘““There is no need to fear Socato the Seminole, for he will not harm you. He is the friend of all good white men.”’ It was an Indian, a Seminole, belong- ing to the remnant of the once great nation that peopled the Florida peninsula, Frank realized this in a moment, and, knowing the Seminoles were harmless when well treated, felt no further alarm. ~. ‘‘Very good shot for a white ey Ses al “* vd peat KE ac “Sih wm ster rg Nb eS Si y sa eee See A y ag er nL Hite A. 2 Ss > eR ty -swered Frank. - Phantom. Seminole. FRANK The Indian had paddled with the ut- most silence to their side while they were watching what was taking place on shore. The arrow had produced consternation in the camp. The fellow who was wounded tried to draw it from his shoul- der, groaning: ‘*This is not a fair deal! Give me a fair show, and I'll fight you all!’’ ‘“Where did it come from??’’ Gage, in dismay. The two canoes were beyond the circle of firelight, so they could not be seen from the shore. Gage’s two companions were overcome with terror. ‘This swamp is full of Indians!’’ one of them cried. ‘‘We’ve been attacked by a band of savages!”’ Gage spoke a few words in a low tone, and then sprang over the prostrate form of the man who had been stricken down asked _by the arrow, grasped the girl, and re- treated into the darkness. His companions also scudded swiftly beyond the firelight, leaving Captain Bellwood still bound to the tree, while one man lay dead on the ground, and another had an arrow in his shoulder. Close to Frank’s ear the voice of Socato the Seminole sounded: “Tight bother them. They git in the dark and see us from the’ shore. Then they shoot this way some.’’ “Jupiter and Mars!’’ gasped. Professor Scotch. ‘‘I don’t care to stay here, and have them shoot at me!’’ ‘‘White boys want to save girl?’ asked Socato, swiftly. ‘‘They pay to get her free? What say?’ “‘Of course we will pay,’’ ‘‘Can you aid us in saving her? If you can, you shall be——’’ ‘*Socato save her. White man and two boys go back to cabin of Great White Stay there, and Socato come with the girl.”’ ‘‘Begorra! Oidon’t loike thot,’’ de- clared Barney. ‘‘Oi’d loike to take a hand in th’ rescue mesilf.’’ “‘T can do better alone,’’ asserted the ‘oT tust me’? -But Frank Merriwell was not inclined to desert Elsie Bellwood in her hour of trouble, and he said: _ “Socato, you must take me e with you. f MERRIWELL’S MERCY. hastily an- e 17 Protessor, you and Barney go back to the hut, and stay there till we come.’’ The Indian hesitated, and then said: “Tf white boy can shoot so well with the bow and arrow, he may not be in the way. I will take him, if he can step from one canoe to the other without upsetting either,’ ‘“That’s easy,’’ said Frank, as he de- liberately and safely accomplished the feat. 9 CHAPTER VII. YOUNG IN YEARS, OLD IN SIN. ‘*Well done, white boy,’’ complimented the strange Indian. ‘*Pass me one of those ie. Frank. ‘““White boy better leave rifle; take_ bow-and-arrows,’’ advised Socato. ‘‘Rifle make noise; bow and atrow make no noise. ’’ ‘fAll right; what you say goes. Return to the hut, Barney, and stay there till we show up.”’ “*But th’ spook——”’ ‘‘Hang the spook! We’ll know where to find you, if you go there.”’ ‘““The Great White Phantom will not harm those who offer him no harm,”’ de- clared the Indian. ‘‘T am not so afraid of spooks as Iam of —— Jumping Jupiter!’’ There was a flash of fire from the dark- ness on shore, the report of a gun, anda bullet whirred through the “air, cutting the professor’s speech short, and causing him to duck down into the canoe. ‘“Those fellows have located us,’’ said Frank, swiftly. ‘‘We must get away im- mediately. Remember, wait at the hut.”’ Socato’s paddle dropped without a sound into the water, and the canoe slid away into the night. The professor and Barney lost no time in moving, and it was well they did so, for, a few seconds later, another shot came from the shore, and the bullet skipped along the water just where the canoes had been. Frank trusted everything to Socato, even though he had never seen or heard of the Seminole before. Something about the voice of the Indian convinced the boy | that he was honest, for all that the dark- »” requested 18 EF ness was such that Frank could not see his face and did not know how he looked. The Indian sent the canoe through the | water with a speed and silence that was a revelation to Frank Merriwell. ‘The pad- dle made no sound, and it seemed that the prow of the canoe scarcely raised a ripple; for all that they were gliding along so swiftly. ‘Where are you going?’’ whispered | Frank, observing that they were leaving |° the camp-fire astern. ‘White boy trtist Socato ?’’ ‘If I didn’t, Ishouldn’t be here. Of course I do.” ‘““Then keep cool. Socato take him round to place where we can come up be hind bad white men. Wetry to fool um.”’ ‘*Good !”? The light of the camp-fire died out, and | then, a few moments later, another camp- fire seemed to glow across a strip of low: land. **See it??? whispered the Indian, wich caution. “Yes. What party is camped there— friends of yours, Socato ?’’ **Not much !”’ “Who, then ?’’ ‘“That same fire.*’ © ‘(Same fire as which?’ ‘‘One bad white men build.’’ Frank was astonished. ‘‘Oh, say! how is that? fire behind us, Socato.’’ ‘*And we have come round by the water till it is before us again.’’ This was true, but the darkness had been so intense that Frank did not see thow their course was changing. ‘‘T see how you mean to come up be- hind them,’’ said the boy. ‘‘You are go- ing to land and cross to their camp.”’ ‘That right. They won’t look for us that way.’ : ‘*T reckon not.’’ Soon the rushes closed in on either side, and the Indian sent the canoe twisting in and out amid their tall stalks like a creep- ing panther. Heseemed to know every inch of the way and followed it as well as if it were broad noonday. Frank’s admiration for the fellow grew with each moment, and he felt that he could, indeed, trust Socato. as “If we save that girl and the old man, We left that eee at XANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY. you shall be well paid for the job,’ de- iclared the boy, feeling that it was well to dangle a reward before the Indian’s men- tal vision. ‘It is good,’’ was the whispered retort. ‘‘Socato is poor.’ In afew moments they crept through the rushes till the canoe lay close toa |bank, and the Indian directed Frank to | get out. The camp-fire could not be seen from that position, but the boy well knew it was not far away. Taking his bow, with the quiver of arrows slung to his back, the lad left the canoe, being followed immediately by the | Se minole, who lifted the prow of the frail craft out upon the bank, and then led the E way. a Passing round a thick mass of reeds, they soon reached a position where they could see the camp-fire ‘and the forms of the sailors. Just as they reached this position, Leslie Gage was seen to dash up to the fire and kick the burning brands in various directions. ‘“He has done that so that the trelight might not reveal them to us,’’ thought Frank. ‘‘They still believe us near, al- though they know not where we are.”’ Crouching and creeping, Socato led the way, and Frank followed closely, wonder- ing what scheme the Indian could have in his head, yet trusting everything to his sagacity. In a short time they were near enough to hear the conversation of the bewildered and alarmed sailors. ‘The men were cer- tain a band of savages were close at hand, for they did not dream that the arrow which had dropped Jaggers was fired by the handvof a white person. ‘“The sooner we get away from here, the better it will be for us,’’ declared Leslie Gage. ‘“We’ll have to get away in the boats,’’ said a grizzled, villainous-looking, one- eyed old sailor, who was known as Ben Bowsprit. ‘*Ro’ de Lawd’s sake!’’ gasped the third sailor, who was a negro, called Black Tom; ‘‘how’s we gwine to run right out dar whar de critter am dat fired de arrer inter Jack Jaggers?”’ es, po 8ST he “critter” doesn’t seem to be there iy moving FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY. 19 any longer,’’ assured Gage. ‘‘’Those two shots must have frightened him away.”’ ‘’That’s tright,’? agreed Bowsprit. ‘“This has been an unlucky stop fer us, mates. Tomilson is dead, an’ Jaggers ? ‘T ain’t dead, but I’m bleedin’, bleed- in’, bleedin’!’’. moaned the fellow who had been hit by Frank’s arrow. ‘‘There’s a big tear in my shoulder, an’ I’m afeared I’ve made my last cruise.’’ ‘‘It serves you right,’’ came harshly from the boy leader of the ruffianly crew. ‘“’Tomilson attempted to.set himself up as head of this crew—as captain over me. You backed him. All the time, you knew I was the leader in every move we have} made. ”’ ‘‘And a pretty pass you have led us to!’? whined the wounded wretch. ‘“Where’s the money you said the captain had stored away? Where’s the reward we’d receive for the captain alive and well? We turned mutineers at your in- stigation, and what have we made of it! We’ve set the law ag’in’ us, an’ here we are. The Bonny Elsie has gone up in smoke——’’ ‘“Through the carelessness of a lot of drunken fools!’’ snarled Gage. ‘‘She should not have been burned. But for that, we wouldn’t be here now, hiding from officers of the law.”’ ‘“Well, here-we are,’ ) growled Ben Bowsprit, an’ shiver my timbers if we| seem able to get out of this howlin’ swamp! ‘The more we try, the more we seem ter git lost.’’ ‘‘Ro’ goodness, be yo’ gwine to stan’ roun’ an’ chin, an’ chin, an’’ chin?’’ de- manded Black ‘Tom. ‘““The fire’s out, and we can’t be seen,”’ spoke Gage, swiftly, in a low tone. ‘‘Get the boats ready. You two are to take the old man in one; I’ll take ‘the girl in® the other.’ “‘Tts the gal you’ve cared fer all the |'wounded man. ‘‘I saw you strike the | blow, and I’ll swear to that, my hearty!” | “‘Tt’s not likely you’ll be givena chance | to swear to it, Jaggers. I may have killed |him, but it was in self-defense. He was |doing his best to get his knife into me.”’ | ‘Ves, we was tryin’ to finish you,’’ ‘admitted Jaggers. ‘‘With you out of the | way, Tomilson would have been cap’n, |and I first mate. You’ve kept your eyes |on the -gal all the time. I don’t believe |you thought the cap’n had money at all. 'It was to get the gal you led us into this business. She’d snubbed you—said she |despised you, and you made up your ‘mind to carry her off against her will.’’ “Tf that was my game, you must con- fess I succeeded very well. But I can’t | waste more time talking to you. Get the | boats ready, boys. I will take the smaller. | Put Cap’n Bellwood in the larger, and ‘look out for him.”’ | | | } | The two sailors obeyed his orders. Boy ‘though he was, Gage had resolved to be- ‘come a leader of men, and he had suc- ceeded. The girl, quite overcome, was prostrate ‘at the feet of her father, who was bound to the eypress tree. There was a look of pain and despair |on the face of the old captain. His heart bled as he looked, down at his wretched daughter, and he groaned: ‘‘Merciful Heaven! what will become of iher! It were better that she sould die than remain in the power of that young | villain 1! | ‘What are you muttering about, old man ?’’ coarsely demanded Gage, as he bent to lift the girl, -‘‘You seem to be \inuttering to yourself the greater part of (the time.’’ : ; | ‘You. wretch! you young monster!’ |grated the old shipmaster. _‘*Do you 'think you can escape the retribution that |pursues all such dastardly creatures as } | | { | time,’’ cried Jaggers, madly. ‘‘It was for| you?”? her you led us into this scrape.’’ “Shut up!” ‘*T won’t! You can’t make me shut up, ”» age. Gage.” _ ‘Well, you’ll have a. chance to talk to yourself and ‘Tomilson before long. ‘Tomilson will be jolly company.’’ “<“You killed> -him!’’ | “Oh, you /found out that the goody-good people do accused the}! make me tired! \not always come out on top in this world. | Besides that, it’s too late for me to turn |back now. I started wrong at school, and I have been going wrong,ever since. It’s | natural for me; I can’t help it.”’ ‘Spare my child!’ I haves & Bi ground. 20 ‘‘Oh, don’t worry about her. I’ll take care of her.”’ “If you harm her, may the wrath of Heaven fall on your head!’’ ‘Let it go at that. I will be very tender and considerate with her. Comme, Elsie.”’ He attempted to lift her to her feet, but she drew from him, shuddering and screaming wildly: ‘*Don’t touch me!’’ ‘‘Now, don’t be a little fool!’ he said, harshly. ‘‘You make me sick with your tantrums! Come on, now.”’ But she screamed ‘the louder, seeming to stand in the utmost terror of him, With a savage exclamation, Gage tore off his coat and wrapped it about the girl’s head so that her cries were smothered. ‘Perhaps that will keep you still a bit!’ he snapped, catching her up in his arms, and bearing her to the smaller boat, in which he carefully placed her. She did not faint. As her hands were bound behind her, she could not remove the coat from about her head, and she sat as he placed her, with it enveloping her nearly to her waist. ‘Is everything ready?’ asked Gage. ‘“Where are all the guns? Somebody take Tomilson’s weapons. Let Jaggers have his. He may need them when we are gone.’’ ‘Don’t leave me here to die alone!”’ piteously pleaded the wounded sailor. “Tm pretty well gone now, but I don’t want to be left here alone!’? _ Gage left the smal]l boat for a moment, and approached the spot where the plead- ing wretch lay. ‘‘Jaggers,’’ he said, ‘‘it’s the fate you deserve. You agreed to stand by me, but you went back on your oath, and tried to kill me.’’ “And now you re going to feaye me here to bleed to death or starve?’ ‘‘Why shouldn’t I? The tables are turned on vou, my fine fellow.”’ -’ “Well, I’m sure you won’t leave me.”’ “Vou are?” ca egy me E ‘“Why won’t I?” ‘“This is why!” - Jaggers flung up his hand, from which a spout of flame seemed to leap, and the Aer post of a pistol sounded over the marsh. - Leslie. Gage, fell in a Heep to the FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY, CHAPTER VIII. A MYSTERIOUS TRANSFORMATION. ‘‘Ha! ha! ha!’ wildly laughed the wounded sailor. ‘‘That time he did not escape! Leave me to die, would he! Welly he is dead already, for I shot him through the brain!”’ ‘‘That’s where you are mistaken, Jag- gers,’’ said the cool voice of the boyish leader of the mutineers. ‘‘I saw your move, saw the revolver, and dropped in time to avoid the bullet.” Gage sprang to his feet. A starl of baffled fury came from the lips of the wounded sailor. ‘‘The foul fiend protects you!’ he cried. ‘‘See if you can dodge this bullet !’’ He would have fired again, but Gage leaped forward in the darkness, kicked swiftly and accurately, and sent the te- volver spinning from the man’s hand. ‘You have settled your fate!’’ hissed the boy, madly. ‘‘I did mean to have you taken away, and I was talking to torment you. Now you will stay here—and die like a dog!”’ ° He turned from Jaggers, and hurried back to the boat, in which that muffled figure silently sat. ‘*Are you ready, boys?’’ he called. — Captain Bellwood had been released from thé tree and marched to the other boat, in which he now sat, bound and helpless. ‘‘All ready;’’ was the answer. “fAll right; go ahead.”’ They pushed off, settled seats, and began rowing. Gage was not long in following; but he wondered at the silence of the girl who sat in the stern. It could not be that she had fainted, for she remained in an up- right position. ‘‘Which way, cap?’’ asked one of the men. into their answer. ‘‘We will find another place to camp, but I want to Lee away from this apo: muffling coat. wish she would do something,’ his Sie wy me! ‘‘Any way to get out of this,’’ was the a Not a sound came from beneath the eon ‘‘Té must be close, ” thought Gage, cy Wy : Bs wonder if she can breathe: all right, I~. At last, finding he could keep up with fees without rouble; os ahs bee th Saati aS ae ao FRANK knowing he would have very little diff- culty in overtaking them, Gage drew in his oars and slipped back toward the muffled figure in the stern. ‘‘Fisie,’’ he said, softly. No answer; no move. ‘*Miss Bellwood.’ Still no answer. ‘*You must not think too hard of me, Miss Bellwood,’’ he said, pleadingly. would not harm you se anything. I love} you far too much for that, Elsie.’ He could have sworn that the sound which came from the muffling folds of the coat was like a smothered laugh, but he knew she was not laughing at him. “J have been wicked and desperate,”’ he went on; ‘‘but I was driven to the life I have led. Fate has been against me all along. When I shipped on,your father’s vessel it was because I had seen you and knew you were to be along on the cruise. I loved you at first sight, and I vowed that I would reform and do better if you loved me in return, Elsie.”’ He was speaking swiftly in a low tone, and his voice betrayed his earnestness. He passed an arm around the muffled figure, feeling it quiver within his grasp, and then he continued: ‘*You did not take kindly to me, but I persisted. Then yous repulsed me—told me you despised me, and that made me desperate. I swore I would have you, Elsie. ‘Then came the mutiny and the burnimg of the vessel. and you are with me. Elsie, you know not how I love you! I have become an outcast, an outlaw—all for your sake! Elsie, dear Elsie! can’t you learn to love me? Iwill do anything for you—any- thing !’? Again a sound came from beneath the coat. He was sure she was sobbing. It ‘nust ‘be that he was beginning to break down that icy barrier. She realized her “position, and she would be reasonable. | ““Filsie—little sweetheart !’’ He began to remove the muffling coat. “Do not scream, Elsie—do not draw away, darling. Say that yow will love me a little—just ; a little!” He pulled the coat away, and some- thing came out of the folds and touched -cold and chilling against his forehead. It was the muzzle of a revolver! - Now we are here,. MERRIWELL’S MERCY. 21 | ‘Keep still!’? commanded a voice that was full of chuckling laughter. ‘If you aeD [ll have to blow the roof of your head off, Gage!’ | Leslie Gage caught his breath and {nearly collapsed into the bottom of the iboat. Indeed, he would have fallen had | not a strong hand fastened on his collar jand held him, It was not Elsie Bellwood! ‘‘T don’t want to shoot you, Gage,”’ whispered the cool voice. ‘‘I don’t feel like that, even though you did attempt to take my life once or twice in the past. You have made me very good natured within the past few moments. How you did love me! How gently your murmured, ‘Do not draw away, darling; say that you love mea little—just a little!’ Ha! ha! ha! Really, Gage, -you gave me such amusement that Iam more than satisfied with this little adventure. ”’ I know it!’ grated Gage, through ng set. satéeth; **Still I can’t place you. ”) ‘Indeed, you are forgetful, Gabe. But it is rather dark, and I don’t suppose you expected to see me here. We last met at Fardale.”’ ‘*FRardale?”? (Wes, ) ‘“And you are—Frank Merriwell!’? Gage would have shouted the name in his amazement, but Frank’s fingers sud- denly closed on the fellow’s throat, and held back the sound in a great measure. ‘‘Now you have guessed it,’ chuckled Frank. ‘‘Oh, Gage!~ I can ‘forgive you for the past since you have provided me with so much amusement to-night. How you urged me to learn to love you! But that’s too much, Gage; I can never learn to do.that.”? » . : Leslie ground his teeth, but he was still overcome with unuttetable amaze- ment and wonder. ‘That Frank Merriwell, night in the wilds of the Florida Ever- glades was like ‘a miracle. What had become of. Elsie Bellwood ? Had some magic of that ‘wild and Greer region changed her into Frank Merriwell? Little wonder that Gage was dazed and helpless. whom he hated, should appear there. at » “How in the name of the Evil ie did 22 you come here?’’ he finally asked, re- covering slightly from his stupor. Frank laughed softly once more. It was the same old metry, boyish laugh that Gage had heard so often at Fardale, and it filled him with intense anger, as it had in the days of old. “‘T know you did not expect to see| me,’? murmured Frank, still laughing. *‘T assure you that the Evil One had noth- ing to do with my appearance here.’’ “Tt was trickery—magic! I left her in the boat a few moments. What became of her? How did you take her place?”’ “JT will let you speculate over that question for a while, my fine fellow. In the meantime, I fancy it will be a good idea to tie you up so you will not make any trouble. Remember I have a revolver handy, and I promise that I’11 use it if - you kick up a row.’’ At this moment, one of the sailors in the other boat called: ‘“‘Hello, there, Mr. Gage! where are CHA PTER IX. TURN. GAGE TAKES A Gage was tempted to, shout for help, but.the muzzle of the cold weapon that touched his forehead froze his tongue™to silence. ‘‘Hello! Ahoy, ‘there, c are you?’’ Ben Bowsprit was growing impatient and wondering why Leslie did “not answer. It had occurred to the old tar that it was possible the boy had deserted. them. The voice of Black Tom was heard. to Say = ‘‘He oughter be right near by us, Ben. _)Smighty strange dat feller gon’ seem to answer nohew.”’’ s ““ Shiver my Aenea roared Bow- sprit. » ‘*We’ll pull back, my hearty, and _take a look for our gay cap’n. ‘They were coming back, and Gage was still’ unbound, although .a captive in Frank Merriwell’s clutch. ' Frank thought swiftly. There would not be enough time to bind Gage and get away. Something must be done to pre- Where ee J ~ vent the two saifors from turning about. and rowing back. nt Oa, Fo eee: Frank, _ swiftly, FRANK MERRIWELL’S MERCY, “vou must answer them. Say, it’s all right, boys; I’m coming right along.’’ Gage hesitated, the longing to shout for help again grasping him. ““Do as I told you!’’ hissed Frank, and the muzzle of the revolver seemed to bore into Gage’s forehead, if the bullet longed to seek his brain. With a mental curse on the black luck, Gage uttered the words as his captor had ordered, although they seemed to come chokingly from his throat. ‘Well, what are ye doing back there so long??? demanded Bowsprit. ‘‘Tell them you’re making love,’’ chuckled Frank, who seemed to be hugely enjoying the affair, to the unspeakable rage of his captive. ‘*Ask them if they dont t pytemt to give you a show at all.’’ Gage did as directed, causing Bowens tO laugh Seely. “Oh, you’re a sly dog!’’ cackled the old s sailor, in the darkness. “But this is a poor time to spend in love-makin’, cap’n. Wait till we git settled down ag’in. Tom an’ me’ll agree not ter watch ye.’’ “Say, all right; go. on, Frank, and Gage did so. In a few seconds, the sound of oats wete heard, indicating that the sailors were obeying instructions. : At that moment, while Frank was listening to this sound, Gage believed his opportunity had arrived, and, being utterly desperate, the young ascal knocked aside Frank’s hand, gave a wild shout, leaped to his feet, and plunged headlong into the water. , It was done swiftly—too swiftly for Frank to shoot, if he had intended such a | thing. But Frank Merriwell had «no | desire to shoot his former schoolmate, even » though Leslie Gage had’ become a vhatds as ) ss instructed ing broken away, the 5 youthful leader of the-mutineers stood in no danger of being harmed. Kio Frank and’ Socaté had Baca lose at hand when Gage placed Elsie Bellwood in the boat, and barely was the girl left tialone before she was removed by thé — | Seminole, i in whose arms she lay limp and unconscious, having swooned at last. Then it was that adesite to capture | oa 8 and a wild ae to Bive the aa ened and desperate criminal, and so, hav- ae