Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second Class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office by STREET & SMITH.

October 10, 1896. Vol. 1. No. 26. Price Five Cents.

 

 

SY Sa SS SSS : ; : y

SP * SS SE ; t ; . .

Seeetiy SR A ‘ ee SS
‘ RY Reem

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SPREE aca

 

 

 

FRANK MERRIWELL FELT THAT HIS LAST MINUTE HAD COME, FOR THE BEAST WAS PREPARING TO LEAP,

 
 

 
  

- Tip Top

Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year.

   

October 10, 1856, Vol. 1.

  

Entered as Second Class Matler at the N.
Enter ed Aceording to Act of Congress, in the Year 1896, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. Cc

No. 26.

LIBRARY.

Y. Post Office.

 

STRE amibaiag Sires 29 Rose St., N.Y

oe Five ¢ Five Gents,

 

 

 

  

i

CHAPTER I.

PEE EUG LELVR

The Rio Salado is formed by the Desa-
guadero, Diamante, Latuel, and other
healthy streams, which might themselves
be called small rivers. Above Tripague
the Salado is broad and sluggish, at times
flowing through dense forests. And yet
it finally sinks and dies in the heart of the
Pampas, long before the coast is reached,
emptying at last into a small lake that
has no known outlet.

The Salado is one of the strange freaks
of nature in South America.

Down the Salado, near the close of a
beautiful day, a large flat-bottomed boat
was drifting. The boat contained six per-
- _ sons, together with packs and weapons.
“- Two of the six passengers on the boat
. were Frank Merriwell and his friend from
Vermont, Ephraim Gallup.

Of the remaining four, two were full-
blood Spaniards, one being a man with

rS.

 

 

 
 
  
  

young, dashing, and handsome in a reck-
less, devil-may-care way.
The older man was Senor Muerto Ma-
_tias, a Chilian citizen, but now a fugitive
from the eemnty, oe taken part ina

  
 

 

ithe cause in which he

“to rescue her.

white hair and beard, while the other was]

 

and reached Mendoza. a

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE:

R,

mee a DLT ee Oo THE PAMPAS.

  

By the Anthos of “PRANK MERRIWEL Le?

 

was interested.
His deadly enemy, the Marques Aguila,
had caused Matias to be declared an out-
law, but had not been satisfied with that,
having (with the aid of Black Miguel, a
bandit) captured Matias and held him a
captive in a cave.

The younger man, who was very proud
of his black mustache,
Alvarez.

known as
If he had another name, he was
the only person who seemed to be aware
of it.

Alvarez had been a bandit, one of Black
Miguel’s band, and he had fallen in love
with Pepita, the daughter of Matias and
his English. wife.

Pepita had also been a captive in Black
Miguel’s power, and Alvarez had offered
She had agreed to go with
him if he would save her father. ‘The
young bandit made the attempt to rescue
them both, but would have failed but
for Frank Merriwell and his friends,
Ephraim Gallup and Juan Matias.

Juan was Pepita’s brother and he, with
Frank and Ephraim, was searching for
the girl. The entire party had succeeded |
in beating back the outlaws, and escap- :
ing, after which, aided by friends of
Senor Matias, they had crossed the Aas

was

  
 

g

      
         
     
 

  
  

But they were followed. Black Miguel |
was furious over the treachery of Alvarez,
and Aguila swore that the man he hated
should not escape. The two came to Men-
doza, and Matias was obliged to flee for |
his life, as Aguila was rich and_ hired
scores of ruffians to do his command.

Hearing of a plot to assassinate Senor |
Matias on the way to Buenos Ayres, the|
party of fugitives abandoned the railroad,
tesolving to-cross the Pampas, through |
the heart of the Indian country. |

So we find them floating down the
Salado in the flat-bottomed boat, looking
for a place to land and encainp for the|

 

night.

On either side of the river was a jungle |
of dense verdure, flaming with gorgeous |
flowers.

‘‘What we must do is to land so very |

. . . |
soon,’’ said Juan. ‘‘The night will come}
on quick.”’ |
|

“But it is still light—the sun is up,’’)
said Frank Merriwell. ‘‘Sutely we have |
plenty of time.’?

‘By this you should know that the sun |
it will go quick, and the*night it will |
come at once.’? “ |

A cry came from Alvarez, who was in}
the prow of the boat.

“There is the place by which we can|
_land,’’ he exclaimed, pointing to an open-
ing amid the trees.

It was, in truth, a favorable spot, and
the boat was headed toward it. Ina few)

 

 

stop now.

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

ing what seemed to be the tolling of a
8 8
church bell near at hand.

‘‘Great gosh!’ exclaimed Ephraim
Gallup. ‘‘We must be right nigh some

g 8

taown. Whio’d thought it!”’

‘It must be a town is close at hand,”’

said Frank, ‘‘for there cannot bea solitary
l church here in the woods.

The bell is
tolling vespers.’’
‘“That is not any bell,’’? laughed Juan.
‘Not a bell?’ cried Frank. ‘‘Of course
What do you mean ?”’
That is

it is a bell!
' “What it is that Ido speak.
not any bell.’’

‘“Then what is it???

heats Oue pit...”

“A bird? Oh, say, Juan, that’s too
much !’?

“Tt is the truth I do speak, Frank—it
is the convent bird. The English do call
it the bell bird. I never hear it before to

sing when the sun have gone down. ‘It is

It is not ‘sometime often to be
found so far south. On the Amazon it is
very many to be found.”’

‘But a bird, Juan—a bird! Why, you
must be joking! No bird could make a
sound like that.’?

‘‘Not by a gol dern sight!’ put in the
Vermonter, wagging his head. ‘‘Yeou
can’t fool us, Wand, old boy.”’

But the Chilian lad insisted that he had
spoker the truth, and he told them some-
thing of the remarkable bird that had de-

ceived them. From the top of the bird’s

 

 

  

moments the shore was reached, and then, | bill, he said, there grows a curious fleshy

before they could disembark, the day protuberance, similar to that of a turkey °

passed into night. There was no twilight. | gobbler. Unlike the turkey’s, however,
The sun seemed to drop beneath the hori-/| this is hollow and sparsely covered with
zon, and darkness came on at once. hairs. The tube, which is black, connects

‘‘What to you did I tell!’’ was Juan’s| with the interior of the throat, and it is
triumphant exclamation. ‘‘Here, in the}threugh it that the bird makes the sono-
forest, it is to be all the time like this.’?)rous sound from which it takes its name.

Wood was gathered and a fire lighted. | When in use, the tube stands upright from
Then they brought the packs from the} the bill, and, as it is an inch to two inches
boat, which was drawn up and made/in length, has the appearance of a horn.
secure, |“ Fromm this the bird takes another of its:
All at once they were startled by hear-| many names, the ‘rhinoceros bird.’’

  

 

7

 

 

 

oe

  
 

 

 

 

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

This piece of information was very in-
teresting to Frank and Ephraim, the _lat-
ter observing:

“*T’d like to ketch one uv them gol
dern birds an’ take him home. He’d
make more fun than a bar’] uv monkeys
in aour taown.”’

One of the packs had been opened, and
Pepita was preparing supper for them,
having spread a cloth on the ground near
the fire. Soon she called them, and they
sat down on the ground about the cloth.

Senor Matias was very quiet. He
seemed to be thinking. In fact, he
seemed to be thinking nearly all the time
since his escape from the power of his
enemy.

Pepita laughed and chatted, Alvarez
seemed well satisfied, Ephraim grinned
and made some drawling observation,
while Frank was full of lifeand animation.

A stranger would never have fancied
they were fugitives, for they seemed more
like a party of pleasure seekers who were
bent on having a good time.

All were hungry, and they ate heartily.
When supper was over, Pepita” and
Alvarez washed the dishes at the river’s
edge, while Senor Matias rolled and
smoked a cigarette, still silent and
thoughtful.

Frank and Ephraim chatted.

» Soon ez I kin git to Bonus Airy I’m
goin’ to write ag’in to Hiram,’’ said the

Yankee boy. ‘‘It’s kinder gol dern mean |

to treat a brother ther way I have him.
There he is makin’ heaps uv money in
Chilly, an’ he sent me money to pay my
passage there, an’ I’ve never seen him yit,
as he was away when I arriv’. You came
along, an’ I went off with you on ther
jump. Sence that I hain’t bin_able to git
back to Valparaiso, an’ I don’t know
when I will git back there.’’

“Why, you know you have agreed to

travel with me,’’ said Frank. ‘The will
of my eccentric uncle provided that I

me

ht take along a schoolmate as a trav-

       
  
  
   
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
    
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
 
  
  
  
  
   
   
 
  
  
  
     
     
      
      
     
    

eling companion, besides my guardian. I
have told you how I met Juan in San
Francisco, and came to South America,
with him, when he had interested me in
his wrongs. Professor Scotch, my guar-
dian, will wait to hear from me again, I
think, and then he will join me some-
where by appointment. Hans Dunner-
wust was the first to travel around with
me, and he got enough of it while we
| were in Mexico, where we nearly: lost our
Hives at the hands of bandits. Barney
Mulloy tried it a while, but went back to
school, and now I do not see but it is
your turn.”’

‘Wal, Frank, gol dern me ef I don’t do
it! Hiram kin kick, but Ihave got a good =
chance to see some uv the world, an’ I’ll 4
see it, ur bu’st a suspender.”’

‘‘You may write your brother to that
eect.”

“T will, by gum!’

‘‘When you are tired of traveling I will
pay your way back to Chili.”

‘‘That’s fair. Where be yeou goin’
after we git to Banus Airy?”’

‘‘T have not yet decided. In the course
of time I mean to visit every country on
the face of the earth.’’ ©

‘Great gosh! That'll také ye more’n
nine hundred an’ seventeen year.”? a

‘‘Oh, not quite so long as that, for the
introduction of steam and electricity has
'made this world a very small place.”?

“Git aout! Haow could steam and lec-
‘tricity make it small?”’

Frank laughed.

‘‘T am speaking figuratively,’’ he said.
‘(A person ‘can travel round the world
now in such a brief space of time that it
makes the old globe seem very small.’

**Oh, that’s what yeou mean! Wal, I
|believe in sayin’ things jest ez I mean
’em, by gum!”?

Pepita and Alvarez came up from the —
river laughing. Matias was still smoking,
The fire smoldered, sending out a dull _
reddish half light.

 

 

 

 

   
FRANK. MERRIWELL’S

Pepita had secured a mandolin in Men-
doza, and this she now brotight out and
put in tune. Then she played and sang a
Spanish love song, in which Alvarez
joined when it came to the chorus.

It was a scene of peace and happiness,
but there was a black shadow hovering
ever the bivouac on the Rio Salado.

CHAPTER II.
THE SNAKE KNIFE.

The fire sank low. Slumbering forms
lay about it, wrapped in blankets. With
his back against a tree, looking like a
bulging portion of the trunk stood the
guard. All about was silence, save for
the continuous droning of nocturnal in-
sects.

The river flowed on sluggishly and _ re-
luctantly to its fate, in the heart of the
Pampas, seeming to dread its doom.
‘There were stars in the sky, and a slice
of a moon low down, but the shadows
were deep in that forest nook on the
tiver’s bank.

Somewhere from

the river “came a

*‘plunk,’’ as if an alligator, or some other

creature, had dropped from the bank into
the water, An ember on the fire snapped
in two with a cracking sound, sending out
a glow for a moment. But even that
gleam of orange light did not show a pair
‘of burning, deadly eyes that were search-
ing the darkness.

The guard did not stir.

For a long
time he had stood thus, with his back to

the tree. His head was bowed on his
breast. At last his hat cee off and
fell at his feet.

Still the guard did not stir. He slept
as he stood, and the falling of the hat had
td aroused him.

_ There was a stir in the shadows—a sud-
den, sweeping movement.

A ray of light from the embers glinted
on something that flashed like a bright
bird epee the air.

 

MYSTERIOUS FOE.

Chug!—a sound of something striking
and piercing.

The guard awoke with a start and a
low cry, catching up his rifle and looking
around for some moving thing, but seeing
nothing, hearing nothing.

Then another cry came from his lips.
He had felt something strike his shoulder,
and now he found himself pinned to the
free.

This second cry aroused two of the
sleepers. Ephraim Gallup started up, cry-
ing:

‘““Rrank—Frank Merriwell, what’s the
matter ?’’

Juan said something in Spanish.

‘Come here,’’ called Frank, .who was
on guard. ‘‘One of you start up the fire,
the other come here.”’

Juan threw some light wood on the fire,
while Ephraim hurried to: Frank. The
others were aroused, the questions were
asked.

“What in gol dernation is the trouble ?’’
demanded Ephraim, as he reached Frank’s
side. ‘‘Is there any——’’

‘Look here! I am held to this tree by
my pee | Something has wosntod my
shoulder.’

“Great gum !”?

‘*See what it is.
Gate:

‘The fire caught in the dry bits. of
resinous wood and flared up, showing
Ephraim something that held Merriwell
to the tree. He grasped it and drew it
forth.

“Give it to me!”’

Frank took it from the fingers of his
friend and strode toward the fire. ‘The
others gathered round him, and he ex-
hibited the object.

Cries of horror and fear came from the
lips of Senor Matias, Juan, and- Alvarez,
They drew back.

“Well, this is a queer Lnife ex-
claimed Frank, as he stared at the object
in his hand. ‘Black handle, with hand.

Set me clear, if you

 
 

 

——

   
    
   
  

FRANK MERRIWELL'S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

    

5

guard, and a blood-red blade, tipped with|Something like an exclamation of hope

green. I never saw anything like it be-
fore. It is a genuine curiosity.’’

‘“Where did it touch-a you?’ cried
Juan. ‘‘On de shoulder? Let me look-a!
Keep-a still!”?

When the Chilian boy was excited his
English was of a decidedly
With frantic haste,
Frank’s coat, ripped open the sleeve of
Frank’s shirt, and looked at the exposed
shoulder.

Senor Matias and Alvarez looked on,
talking swiftly in Spanish,
stared in horrified silence.

Frank and Ephraim wondered why
there was so much agitation exhibited
over the nature of a wound which was
shown at first exposure to be a mere
scratch.

**Oh, that won’t hurt yenone, Frank,”’
said the Vermonter. ‘‘It’s no wuss than a
pin scratch.’’

‘Won't hurt-a him!’’ cried Juan,
wildly. ‘‘Dat be de ‘Snake Knife!’ It be
deadly! Dat be de Snake Knife!”

‘Wal, what’s the Snake Knife?’

‘*Poison! poison! poison !?’

‘“‘What’s that ?’’ shouted Frank, start-
ing back. ‘‘Do you mean to say this
knife is poison ?”’

“Sit nrank

‘“‘And I have been cut with it! Is it
deadly ?”’

““Sure death !”?

“Great gosh-all-hemlock!’’ gurgled

Ephraim Gallup, horror-stricken.
Frank did not seem so agitated as were

the others. .

“Is there no antidote?’ ‘he calmly
asked.

‘‘None,’’ was the answer.

‘’Then I may as well make my will
without delay.’’

_ Juan was examining the deadly knife,

& a and he followed ‘it by taking a look at the
slight scratch on

Frank’s — shoulder.

 

broken sort. |
he now tore off

while Pepita |

 

 

| he is save.’

came from his lips.

‘“What have you discovered?’’ asked
Merriwell, quietly.

**Dere be one chance-a!’’ shouted the
Chilian boy. ‘‘Look-a here! It was not
de point of de knife-a dat touch you!’’

“Well 2”?

*<See, it was de side of de blade-a!”’

‘*Ves, I can see the bit of fresh blood
where it touched. What of that? Is there
any difference between——”’

“*De poison be on the point-a! Dere be
no poison on de side of de blade-a. De
point-a not touch Frank!’

So that is!’’ cried Senor
Matias, who was also looking at the knife.
‘‘One chance there may be the boy for.
If no ES there be on the edge, then

** Caramba!

‘“Well, that is certainly. some relief!”
laughed Frank, nervously. ‘‘I will con-
fess that I have no fancy for cashing my
chips just now, as a gambler in the
United States would observe.’’

“One bit.of poison of de edge of de
blade-a be enough,’’. swiftly said Juan.
“If dere be none dere, then you all right.
Pepita, she will do up de wound-a.”’

‘‘Why, if there is no poison in it, it is
not worth doing up; if there is poison in
it, it is not worth while doing it up.’’ -

But Juan insisted that Pepita should
do up the wound, and Frank did not in-
sist on declining to have it bandaged.

Juan took-a brand from the fire and
went into the woods, from which he soon
returned with a green leaf, and, having
washed the blood from the wound at the
river, this leaf was bound on it.

‘‘Now,’? said Frank, ‘‘I=suppose I'll
have to wait - see if I drop dead or con-
tinue to-live. . .

“Tf there is poison in the wound your
arm and shoulder will to swell commence
within thirty minute,’’ said Senor Matias. —
‘But now it is that we should know ho

 

     
 

  
  
     
  

 

6

  

you come to have so near escape from
getting the knife in your heart.’’

“T don’t know,’’ admitted Frank. ‘“‘I
must have fallen asleep a8 I leaned against
that tree. The last I remember I was list-
ening to the song of the insects in the
forest, and then it seemed that the very
next instant I felt something touch my

shoulder.’

“‘And nothing you saw of the one who
struck the knife at you?”’

“Tt could not have been struck at me;
it must have been thrown.”’

‘“‘No, no! This is not the knife to
throw.”’

‘Still, father,’’ said Juan, ‘‘you should
do well to remember that the Snake Knife
ig nearly always thrown.’?!

‘““That is true.”

“What about this Snake Knife?’ de-
manded Frank.

“Tt is use by the Indians when they
have some enemy that very much they do
hate. A prick the poison point of sure
death to come must bring.’’ |

““But I have no enemy aniong the In-
dians who hates me very much,”’

‘““The Indians were first to use it; now|
sometime it_be used by half-bloods and by |
the ruffians of a low nature.’’ |

“But still I do not understand it, for
know not what enemy I have who should
use the Snake Knife on me.’’

 

“You for some one else may have been
mistaken,’’ said Alvarez. “It may to be

that the one who sent the knife thought

you myself was., Ha! It may to be that!
some deadly enemy of mine have followed
mie here. I do not like that to think of!”’

Indeed, the young Chilian became |
very nervous and excited all at once, |

-. seeming to fear that another knife might

come whistling out of the darkness and
teach him, =

: A feeling of dread and horror came over!
the entire party, and, although
hadows were full of Steg they ei rane

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

‘the river, but the forests had grown thin, ,

the heart of the Pampas.

 

the night changed to day in a most _astonish- —

 

from the glow of light made by the re-
vived fire.

Ephraim Gallup wiped beads of cold
perspiration from his face.

“Gol dern my skin!’ he said.
is ruther too interesting for me,
like it, by thutter!”’

“Black Miguel may have followed us
here !’’ said Senor Matias, with increasing
excitement. ‘‘Before morning should to
come the Snake Knife might reach us
all!”

This seemed to add to the térror of
Alvarez, and the entire party was in the
greatest consternation. _ ’

“Get into the boat everything,’’ di-
rected Matias. ‘‘It is a move we will make
without delay.”’

So everything was packed into the boat
with great haste, and then they got in
themselves, pushed out, and went floating
down the Rio Salado, keeping well in mid-
stream, for fear of the sudden death that
seemed to lurk in the black shadows of
the night-enshrouded forest.

SOP Hs
I don’t

 

 

 

CHAPTER III. ;

Ss

 

G A‘U_C.EG:.

Morning found them still floating. down
and they were now being ¢arried out into

Frank Merriwell was still alive. In fact,
his shoulder had given him no trouble at
all, which indicated, beyond a doubt, that
he had not been fonened by the poison.

Frank was thankful, for he realized he
had had a very narrow escape from a most
| horrible death,

“Tl keep the Snake Knife as a relic,”’
‘he said. ‘‘When I settle down J’ll have
a houseful of curiosities gathered from
every part of the world, and this will not
be the least among them. ”

The sun came up with a jump, and the

 

 

 

 

ingly brief space of time. Birds sang

    
 

 

 

 

   
  
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  

   
 

 

- with a blood-stained blade that was at

the groves along the river. Pepita, who}
had slept in the bottom of the boat,
watched over by Alvarez, also sang.

The sunlight gave Senor Matias new
life and courage. He smiled, and ad-
dressed his companions as his children. |

The forests grew thinner yet. There
was foliage along the river, but the open
Pampas lay beyond.

They were discussing the advisability
of halting for breakfast when, of a sud-
den, Juan uttered a cry of joy.

SEook tl? his pointing.
‘“The hut—see it? It is the home of some
gaucho.”’

exclaimed,

 

 

Through an opening in the foliage they
could see a rude hut, that was thatched
‘with long grass. From a point close to)
the-hut rose a column of blue smoke.

‘The gauchos are wild and- reckless
men,’’ said Frank, who had read much |
of them.

‘Wild and reckless, perhaps,’’ con-

fessed Juan; ‘“‘but they all treat you
right-a if you take care not to offend.
Show you feel no better than they do, be
polite, and they use you right.’’

‘“Then we had better stop here. Look
—there beyond the hut are horses feed-
ing. ‘This may be the best point to leave
the river and strike across the Pampas.
.We may be able to buy horses of the man
who lives there.’’

So the boat was guided to the shore,
and three of the party—Frank, Ephraim,
and Senor Matias—approached the hut.
As they came near, a man came out
through the low doorway, smoking a
short-stemmed pipe. He stopped abruptly
when he saw them, staring in astonish-
ment.

He was dressed in a singular manner.
His hat was a wide-brimmed affair, and
his woolen shirt was open in front, expos-
ing his throat and hairy breast. Around
his waist was a belt that held a knife

 

7

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE. 7

least a foot in length. The handle was of
gold and silver, finely chased.

At first glance the stranger seemed to
have on brown zouave trousers, with
white leggings at the ankles, but-a closer
inspection showed they were 1ather close-
fitting cotton drawers instead of trousers,
and, in addition, his legs were clothed
from the ankles up with a leneth—say
three yards—of wide brown cotton goods.

This stuff bagged down between the
man’s legs, making him look very ridicu-
lous to Frank, who repressed a smile-with
difficulty.

On the man’s feet were boots made
from the skin of the legs of a colt. When
he walked he had a nautical roll, like a
Nantucket whaler, fresh from a three
years’ cruise in the Pacific.

After the man had stared some mo-
ments he scratched his chin through his
thick beard, and exclaimed:

“Dang my buttons!’’

The words gave Frank and Ephraim a
shock, and the latter cried:

‘‘Gol dern my hide! He speaks United
States |?’

“That's what he does!’’ said Frank,
delightedly. ‘‘We’re in luck!”’

The astonishment of the man seemed
increased.

“Do I hearxtight, or do I not??? he’
mumbled. ‘‘Shiver my timbers if I can
tell! Do you boys talk the white man’s
language ?”’

‘‘We speak English,’’ assured Frank,
advancing; ‘‘and it seems that you do the
same, which gives us unbounded pleas-
{tees

‘‘Well, dash my toplights!’’? shouted
the stranger, rushiifg forward and. grasp-
ing Frank’s hand. ‘‘I dunno who you ate,
but I’m thundering glad to see you! I
ain’t heard anything but Spanish and
Injun talk for a year and a half.”’

He gave Frank’s hand a crushing pres-
sure, and then grasped Ephraim’s hand
and worked the Yankee boy’s arm like j

  

       
      
  
   
   
  
   
  
  
   
   
   
   
  
  
  
   
 
 

8

pump handle. Looking on from a dis-
tance, one must have thought it a meet-
ing of old friends. An expression of sat-
isfaction settled on the face of Senor
Matias.

““My name’s Smith,’’ said the stranger
—‘‘just plain John Smith, of Salem, /s
Massachusetts. That is, I was from
Salem, but now and forever after I hail
from South America and the Pampas.’’

Frank introduced himself, Senor Matias,
‘and Ephraim. Smith shook hands all
round once more.

“Well, it is good to turn my lamps on
a couple of genuine Yankees from Yankee-
land,’ declared Smith, heartily.
“Thought I didn’t care about ever see-
ing anybody again, thought I was’a regu-
lar old barnacle stuck fast here on the
Pampas; but it makes me laugh all over
from stem to stern to see you youngsters. ”’

He invited them to come round where
he was cooking, which proved to be just
round the corner of the hut. A little fire
was burning in a stone fireplace, and a
pot of maze, the tea herb of Paraguay,
was bubbling on some coals.

- Smith questioned them, and Frank ex-
plained, as briefly as possible, how they
came to be there.
Then Frank asked Smith if he had
horses to sell, and if he would guide them
across the Pampas.
‘“Well,’? said the strange man, after
some hesitation, ‘‘I’ve got plenty of
hosses, and I can act as pilot for ye; but
it’s against my principle to take a job of
any kird that’s at all like work. Here in
the desert no man has to work, and all
are free to go and come as they please.
The gaucho is the free-lance of the Pam-
_pas. He passes the day in galloping easily
across the desert, with occasional mad
' dashes here and there, as he starts up
game of some kind. He stops where night
overtakes him, and he eats such food as
he may find, It is a life such as no man
nay find elsewhere on the soe of the

    
   
  
  
    
 
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
  

 

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

earth. I have been asailor for twenty-three
years, and a gaucho for four years. Give
me the life of a gaucho; the sea no longer
has any attraction for this chicken. Here
there is no master or mate over me; I am
captain, mate, and crew, and I run the
ship just as I please, ioe my buttons if
I don’t!’

‘“How did you happen to change from
sailor to gaucho?’’ asked Frank.

“‘Got shipwrecked on the coast of Pata-
gonia and fell in with some gauchos.
That's-ails?’

‘And you think you will. never leave
the life you are now leading ?”’

“Not till I leave it for the last cruise
to that port from which no sailor ever
comes back.”’ ,

‘Well, that is strange, but I suppose
there must be something fascinating about
the life. Still you are much alone—you
are practically a hermit.’’

“Oh, no, mate, I’m not alone. I have
my hosses and other critters. I have all
the wild things of the Pampas for com-
panions. Shiver my timbers, I have com-
pany enough.”’

Then Smith seemed to remember that
they had spoken of the others who were
in the boat, and he said:

“Bring up the rest of the crew, my
hearties. They’re all welcome here, dang
my buttons if they ain’t! Bring ’em up,”
and we’ll have breakfast, such as it is.’?’

So Frank hastened down to the river
and brought the others up to the gaucho’s
hut, where Smith was introduced to them
all, whereupon he regarded Pepita with
open admiration, exclaiming:

“Dash my toplights if that ain’t a
trim-built little clipper! And she’s the
daughter of Senyaw Matias? Well, sen-
yaw, you are to be congratulated. Now
that I have seen her, I’ll stick to this crew
through fair weather and foul, till we
reach the port you’re bound for. | You
may lay to that, my hearties.”? _

rs it was ‘settled, although Aire

   

 

 

 

 

   
     
 

 

 

  
  

 

 

« FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE. 9

scowled 4 little on hearing Smith speak
so plainly in praise of Pepita’s charins,

A short time later all were eating break-
fast together in the open air, chatting
socially.

CHAPTER IV.
WILD

So the Rio Salado and the flat-bot-
tomed boat were abandoned at that point,
and the fugitives took to the Pampas.

They decided to rest a day at that point,
all terrors seeming to be left behind them
in the dark forest.

Smith himself was restless, and Frank

SPOR:

longed to hunt upon the Pampas with a}

genuine gaucho. That afternoon Frank,
Ephraim, and Smith started out see what
they could find in the way of sport.

All were mounted on fine horses.

The two boys were armed with Win-
chester rifles and Smith & Wesson re-
volvers. ¢

Smith’s consisted of a horse-hair lasso,
called a bolas, and the long-bladed knife
with the silver handle, which he con-
stantly wore in his belt.

‘“Where are your weapons?’’ asked
Frank, as they started out, having waved

a farewell to the others, who were gath-

ered near the hut.

‘‘Here,’’ answered the Yankee Sounle
as he touched the lasso, the bolas, and the
knife.

““But do you not carry a rifle or re-
volver ?”’

“‘What’s the use???

‘‘T should think you’d want something
to kill with.’?

“What's the matter with the knife or
the bolas, mate ?”’

“T do not know much about the bolas,
but I should not think you’d be able to

get near enough to your game to kill it:

with the knife.’’
“The lasso helps me get near enough.

oe for a'rifle, dash my toplights if it ain t!

 

}one of ’em.

    
   
   
  
  
    
   
 
 
  
 
    
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
     
     
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
   
    
 
    

more bother than it’s worth! I can kill at
sixty yards with the bolas, and that’s
range enough.’’

“Sixty yards?’
lously.

**Cock sure, mate.’’

‘‘Wal, I be gol derned ef I wouldn’t
like to'see yeou do it!’ cried Ephraim.
**T uster read abaout them bollys in the
jography, but I never took much stock in
such yarns.’

Smith laughed.

‘Wait till we sight something worth
cruising after, and then I’ll show you
what it is I can do with the bolas. Up
here the ostriches are not so plenty as they
are farther south, but we sometimes see
If we do to-day I’ll break his
back with the bolas.”’

The pampas grass was thick about the
feet of their horses, and the wind blew
strong from the southwest. The sun was
shining brightly.

The boys felt a wild thrill of freedom
as they galloped away across the plain.
They took deep breaths of the air, which
seemed to send the blood coursing like -
wine through their veins. They began to
understand the wild delight of a free life .
in the desert.

Smith had eyes like a hawk. Now and
then he would see some small animal
skulking swiftly away through the grass,
and he would dash after it with the bolas,
much to the amazement of Ephraim. 7

A herd of deer was started. Yelling | i
like a maniac, Smith went,after them.
But they were out of range so far as the
lasso or bolas were concerned, and they
would have escaped with ease but for
Frank, who brought down two of them
while riding at top speed j

.It was the gaucho’s turn to be amazed.

‘‘Look here, boy,’’ he said, as he
reined in his horse and stared down at
one of the deer; ‘‘you’re either a howlin
wonder with a rifle, or you’

cried Frank, incredu-

      
  

  
      

 

 

   

luckiest Jack I ever saw do shoot n’,

  
wae ener

 

gum!” yp?

-F nk.

  

10

  

Frank smiled.
‘*You have been showing us tricks, and
it was our turn to show you something. I

will acknowledge they were lucky shots,

but hardly accidental. Now you see the
use of a rifle.”?

“Tt kills,’’? confessed Smith; ‘‘but did
you feel the bullet sink into the flesh ?”’

‘Of course not.’

“Then you missed all the fun of the
thing, dang my buttons if you didn’t!
When I throw a creature with the lasso,
I feel the strain. When I drive my knife
home, I feel it sink through flesh. No,
no, boy, no rifle for me.”’

‘“Every man to his taste.’’

“What be we goin’ to do with these
deer?’ asked. Ephraim, with anxiety.
‘‘Kin we tote ’em along.’’

“Tote nothing,’’? said Smith. ‘We
don’t want to = Peepers with any cargo
on this cruise.’

‘““Will we find ’em here if we leave
ett

“I should say not! Look—yonder,
high in the air, you may see.a tiny speck
swinging round and round. Can you see
it?’

After some difficulty, the boys saw the
speck indicated, which seemed to be
swinging ina circle high up against the
blue of the northeastern sky.

“That is a vulture,’’? explained. the
gaucho. Some say the vulture can smell
a dead creature on the desert for scores of
miles. It has wonderful eyes. It can see
much farthex than it can be seen witha
powerful glass. That one has seen the fall
of these deer.”’

“‘An’ it will come here?’

‘‘Look—it is circling no longer—it is
coming.’’ .

“Wal, gol dern the critter! It can’t hev
them deer. I’m hungry fer deer meat, by

“What are you going to do?” asked

‘ote them deer back to the hut.’ ea

  

 

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE. «

“Vou can’t find the way.”’

“Ves, I kin.’

A long discussion followed, and Eph-
raim insisted in doing as he liked. At
length Smith said he would direct Eph-
raim so he could not fail to find his way
by the aid of the sun.

The hindquarters of both deer were
removed and slung on either side of the
Yankee lad’s horse, after which Smith
gave Ephraim minute directions, and the
Vermonter started for the river and the
home of the gaucho.

Frank saw him depart with some mis-
givings, but Ephraim seemed to feel cer-
tain he could find the rive and Smith
said he would be able to do so without
trouble.

Then Frank and the gaucho rode on.

‘We will look for ostriches,’’ he said.

At last the grass grew thinner, and,
finally, they found themselves entering a
desert of gray and yellowish sand, with
red and brown pebbles everywhere.
Knells and ridges rose before them. On
every side were scattered clumps of stiff,
gaunt, gray bushes.

Riding onward into this desert land and
mounting to the crest of a high ridge, it
seemed that the same knolls and ridges,
and the same clumps of bushes had moved
onward with them. Ahead, to the right,
the left, behind them, everywhere the
landscape presented the same monotonous
appearance.

Into this desert they rode. ‘The wind
blew strong in their faces, but it did not
whistle, nor did it make a rustle in the
bushes.. The faint chirp of the desert
sparrow did not reach the ears of the two
horsemen. A flitting desert hare was not
seen. All seemed silent, monotonous,
lifeless.

Frank began to feel insignificant. He
seemed lost and lonely there i in the does

   

| for all of his companions.

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE. il

away across the desert. The man and boy
pursued.

It was wild sport. John Smith whooped |
like a wild creature, and he rode his|shouted, but the strong wind seemed to
‘tear the words from his lips and bear them
jaway almost soundless.

horse as if a part of the animal itself.
Out from his shoulders flapped his quil-

lango, a fur robe, made from the skins of |
young guanacos. Round and round his |
head he swung the bolas, one free while} bis horse. It was no easy task, as he soon
while the other was held in his| discovered, and he was not long in decid-
hand. He made the throw, releasing the |ing that night would fall before he could
one in his hand. The free one came down | reac! h the spot where the herd of guanacos
on the back of a guanaco, and the other | had been started up.

came down on that with a crack. The |
{hasten forward.

swinging, w

animal dropped, its back broken.

John Smith whooped wilder than ever.

Frank felt his blood seething in his|*5 4 guide, keeping it over his left

veins. Surely this was life and sport. He

had never struck anything like it before. |

He felt that he had lived a year of pleas-
ure in that one day.

Crack—crack! It took two shots to
bring down one of the guanacos. ‘The
creature turned over and over as it fell,
and stopped at the foot of a ridge. _

A long, gaunt creature sprang up and
parted the herd. Smith went after this
ceature, which was a panther, and Frank
continued after the flying guanacos.

On and on rode the boy. Now and then
he fired. Sometimes he missed and some-
times he did not. He took no note of time
or space.

Finally the ridges hid all the fleeing
animals that had not fallen, and Frank
drew rein.

‘‘Ha!l ha!’ he laughed. ‘‘Talk about
fun! This beats the deck!’’

He turned back. Ridges, knolls, bushes,
sand, red and brown pebbles on every
hand. ;

The sun was low in the west. Soon it
would sink from view, and he would be
alone in the ‘desert.

. Where was Smith?

He rode to the crest of a high ridge and

looked around, All he could see were

 

jother high rid
| pebbles.

 

ee the boy did not follow.

 

    
    
  
  
    
  
  
   
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
 
 
  
  
   
    

ges, bushes, sand and

Frank began to feel uneasy. He

“‘T must find my way back.”’
He started to retrace the trail left by

Frank became fearful, and he tried to
As a result, he soon lost
the trail entirely. ‘Then he took the sun
shoulder all the time.

The sun sank lower and lower.

Several times Frank fired his rifle, hop-
ing Smith would hear the report. He had
begun to feel very desperate.

An ostrich started up and dashed away,

At last the sun dropped beneath ‘the |
horizon, and night came down swiftly on
the desert.

Frank rode aimlessly onward, lostin the
desert !

CHAPTER V.
LEFT TO A HORRIBLE FATE.

The moon had not risen, and night lay
grim and heavy on the desert. Every-
where was a great silence, a profound
loneliness.

‘It is useless, old horse—we may as
well stop here. ‘To continue to wander
onward would be folly.’’-

It was the voice of Frank Merriwell.

The horse stopped willingly, and Frank
dismounted.

Any one who has not been lost on a
vast plain, or in a great forest is quite
unable to comprehend the terror of the —
shock that comes to the lost one when he >
first realizes he is completely bewildered
 

 

   
 

12

in regard to his bearings. Such a discov-
ery benumbs one with horror at first, and
then makes him frantic to hurry onward
somewhere, anywhere. For the time
reason and cool judgment give way to
fear. :

It was with the greatest difficulty that
Frank repressed his desire to hurry on-
ward through the darkness.

“TI might wander so far into this desert
that I could never find my way out,’’ he
said.

And then came the thought that the
Pampas lay around him, stretching away
hundreds of miles in some directicns. If
he were careful and cautious, he might
remain a wanderer on the desert till hun-

_ ger and thirst ended his life.

“Tl need my strength, and I will
trest,’’ he said.

So he lay down in a little hollow,
where the force of the cool night wind
was broken by a ridge. His horse was
tethered from a picket-pin.

Strange as it may seem, Frank was
able to go to sleep readily, being in a
healthy condition, and wearied from the
wild sport of the afteroon.

He must have slept some time. He was

_ awakened by a shock. Some one or some-
thing pounced upon him heavily.

In a moment Frank .was wide awake,

_and he struggled to fling off his assailant,

but he had been taken at an advantage,
and he did not readily succeed.

It did not take the boy long to discover
that his assailant was aman, and not a
wild animal, as he had, at first, supposed.
The unknown fastened a hand on Frank’s
throat, and shut off the boy’s wind.

Frank realized his strength would go

_ quickly with his breath, and he tried to
wear that hand away,

_ He succeeded, and the unknown uttered

an oath in Spanish, making another fierce
effort to close on the boy’s windpipe.

k was an athlete, and, feeling that

;and brought it down, with a crack,

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

he was fighting for ‘his life, she strained
every nerve and muscle.

With a sudden flip, the boy turned his
foe, anc they rolled over and over, pant-
ing, squirming, uttering explosive grunts.

The lad was beginning to get the best
of the fight.

‘*Caramba/”’ Nissed the unknown, and
then, of a sudden, he raised some weapon,
upon
Frank’s skull.

Bright lights flashed before the boy’s
eyes, making it seem that a thousand
rockets had exploded in his brain, and he
fell over limply, knocked out.

When Frank recovered consciousness,
he found himself bound hands and feet
and lying on the ground. Near him a
black form squatted in the darkness. It
was a man, sitting on his heels and smok-
ing.

Frank peered keenly at the figure, and
he saw that the man’s head and face were
muffled with some kind of a cloth which
served to conceal his features. There were
eye-holes and a slit for his mouth.

The man seemed to realize immedi-
ately that Frank had revived, for he.
said : : :

“Hal so you have come round, eh?
Well, I wait. I think that I had best to
plant you, but I wait.’’

The voice was not familiar to Frank,
and he did not think he had ever heard it
before.. That’ it was the voice of a
Spaniard the peculiar accent and expres-
sion seemed to indicate.

‘(Who are you?’’ the boy demanded.

A low, hoarse chuckle came from be-
neath the muffling folds of the cloth about
the man’s head.

‘‘Who that I am? I will tell you. Iam
to you one deadly enemy.”’ ;

‘‘Why should you be that? What have.
IT ever done to you?”’

‘(What have you? Never mind. It is
what I know. If you hav: done nothing
at all, you are yet my enemy. e

  

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

“Why 2?)

“Shall I tell? No. Let you die and
never know. That will make to you the
worst mizery.’’

“Then you mean to murder me?”’

“Oh, no; I mean no more than to let
you die.’’

Despite himself, Frank shuddered, the
manner in which the words were uttered
turning his blood cold.

‘““’Then you intend to leave me here as
Iam, bound hands and feet—leave me
for the wild beasts of the desert ?’’

Once more that low, hoarse chuckle
came from beneath the cloth.

‘“‘T shall not leave you as you are—no,
nq, *’

“How, then?’

‘To find that. out you are in great
haste. You will know soon enotigh, do
not be in so fast hurry.”’

The fellow was tantalizing, and Frank
suppressed his anger with an effort. He
knew the man expected an outburst of
rage or supplication, and would gloat over
his helplessness.

“‘T have been“in scrapes that were as
bad as this, and I still live,’’? thought the
hoy. ‘‘ ‘Never say die’ is a good motto.”’

There was a little silence, and the un-
known smoked on. By the glow of the
cigarette the helpless youth could see two
gleaming eyes beyond the twin slits in the
cloth.

Frank resolved that he would not be
the first to speak, although he would
have given much to know who this mys-
terious foe was and why he concealed his
identity. :

All at once a thought came to Frank:

‘“This is not the first time he has tried
to kill me!” _—

‘Ves,’ said the unknown, as if he were
a mind reader, ‘‘it was myself who did
throw the Snake Knife. Such fortune you
did have to escape being touched the
poison by!”

“7 knew it!” Gcinae the boy. ‘You

 

13
are a human monster! You are worse
than the savages—worse than the brutes!”

‘‘Hal ha! ha! .Now it is that you get
yourself excited. Ha! ha! ha! Nowit is
you know what a deadly one I am.”’

Frank bit his tongue, regretting that
he had given the man so much satisfac-
tion. He spoke calmly.

“Tf you were anything but a dastardly
coward you would set me free and give
me a show for my life. : will fight you

with any sort of weapon.’
‘Fight! Ha! A fool I would be! I have

you where I can crush you with one blow.

by. A fool I would be!’

‘‘Now you are showing yourself a dog
—a coward !”’

A snarling sound came from the un-
known’s lips, and he suddenly launched
himself upon the lad. Frank saw some-
thing bright glint in the glow from the
cigarette, which had been dropped to the
ground, and then he felt that something
touch his throat.

‘‘Caramba!”’ grated the man, crushing
his knee into the lad’s breast. ‘‘At your

throat my knife is! With one swift stroke ~

your life I can let out!”’

‘‘And thus prove yourself a double |

dastard. Do your foul work and have it
over }”?

At that moment Frank Merriwell dis-
played marvelous nerve, and the man fell
back, uttering an exclamation of wonder.

‘You are not to be afraid ?”’

‘What is the use? When a fellow has:
a chance for life, there may be some sense
in being afraid, but when he has no show
the time for fear is past.’’

“Vou are strange. It is not able I am
to understand you.”’ se

“Go on; finish your vile work.’’

“‘No, boy; it would be too quick. You
would not be so you would wonder who
had killed you as you died. I want you

to have time to think of it—to wonder.”
‘Then you mean to kill me sexe

inches Foe

       
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
 
 
  
  
   
   

  
   
  
  
  
  
   
  

     
       
 

 

 

   

14

‘‘Vou will take a long time to die, and
you will be alone.”’

‘Tf you mean to leave me here to
starve in the desert, why don’t you do so.
I shall not miss you when you are gone.”’

‘Ha! I wonder at your hurry.
much to the strange. If the time I had
I would stay with you longer; but there is
a ride before me.”’

““Good-evening.’’

““Why you say that?’

‘I thought you were going.’’

‘*Not so soon.

It is so |

Before I go Ifix you so,

 

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

he loosened the earth and thrust it in
about the boy. - In a few minutes Frank
was standing there buried to the neck,
scarcely able to move a muscle.

“Ts it much bad ?’’ asked the unknown,
tauntingly. ‘‘It must be so easy. If there
would be some more light I could look

at you. Ah! I know you must look
strange. You must look like some vege-

table that grow from the ground.”’

‘*You devil!’

‘‘Ha ha! Is it that you call me! Never
mind. ‘I'o-morrow the sun will come and

there will be no chance for you to come|beat on your head—to-morrow you will be

away.
where it is.’

My — fall in the place; 1 know crazy.

You will shout and make the
‘loud noise till your voice you have lost.

Frank wondered what the fellow could | That you will do, if something does not

mean, and he was soon to find out. The
unknown put up his knife, grasped the
boy, and dragged him along over the
ground,

Frank made a desperate effort to break |

his bonds, but he strove in’ vain.
cord was strong, and the knots well tied.

For a distance of thirty feet the man
dragged the boy, aud then from beneath
the baffling cloth came the words:

“It is here. If it is deep enough,
is all.”’

And then, before the lad could under-
stand what was to be done, he lifted
Frank, whose feet slipped into a hole in
the ground, the burro of some wild crea-
ture. ;

‘When it was too late, the boy madea
struggle to prevent his foe from accom-
plishing his design. Down to his shoulders
—to his neck—he dropped, and there he
stood.

Once more the unknown laughed in a

blood-chilling way.

“Tt is the very good fit,” he said. ‘‘It
is as if it had been made to the match.’’
‘‘And you mean to leave me here ?”’

- “Ts it not a fine place! Oh, it will be
what you like when you have been there
a good time. I will make it some better.”’

e took out his, long knife, vit which

that

The|

.

|

   

come to eat your head off before to-mor-
row.”

Frank ground his teeth, but spoke no
further words.

For some time the unknown crouched
there beside his victim, taunting and tan-
talizing him, At last, finding thy boy said
nothing, he arose.

‘’The night goes on,’’ he said. ‘‘I must
ride far. Your horse wilk be for me an
easy one to ride. And it is much time you
may have to think who I am. Adozs.”’

He paused to light another cigarette,
said ‘‘adozs’’ once more, and turned away.

Frank listened. He heard the man
mount, heard two horses go galloping
away, the sound of their hoof-beats grow-
ing fainter and fainter, till they died out
in the distance.

Frank was alone, deserted, left toa hor-
rible fate!

CHAPTER VI.
A SAVAGE GUARDIAN.

The stars were out, and there was a
hint of a coming moon in the eastern sky.
The silence of death hovered on the
desert.

Frank Méniwelt was alone and Ba:
less, buried to the neck in: t

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

The dirt had begun to press upon him,
and he felt darting pains in every limb.
He did not cry out, did not shout for

help, knowing how useless such an effort}

would be. ‘There was not one chance in
ten thousand that his cries could be heard
by hu:nan ears, and he might bring some
wild beast down into the hollow to destroy
him.

Would it not be better to die from the
attack of some wild beast than to remain
there and perish of hunger and thirst, and
the glare of the sun?

A frantic longing to burst his bonds, to
struggle out of that hole in the ground,
came-over him, but when he tried to move
he cried out with pain.

His situation was horrible enough to
appall the stoutest heart—to turn warm
blood to ice-water. . ‘

Frank’s life, since leaving school, had
been one of perilous adventure; but he felt
that he had rather face any peril previous-
ly encountered than the one that now
hovered over him.

In almost.every other case there had
been a chance for him to fight for his life,
but now he could do nothing but await

- his doom.

Tne minutes seemed hours. It seemed
that the moon should have arisen long,
long ago, for surely it was near morning.

Morning!» Woutd he ever see the light
of another day? Would the night pass
and no wild beast come to destroy him ?

He thought of his home, his friends far
away in a northern land, and he wondered
if they would know what faté had befallen
him. It was not likely any one would ever
know. John Smith, Juan, Ephraim, and
all the others might search for him and
never find a trace.

A human head rising above the Sect
sand would be a small thing to attract the

eyes of passing travelers. And by another

dawn his head might not protrnde from

the ground; his bones, stripped of flesh,

aight lay bleaching on the desert. - *

   

16

Nervy lad though he was, Frank could’
not repress a groan.

Before his fancy the faces of his school-

mates thronged. Bart Hodge,
| Mulloy, Hans Dunnerwust, and scores of
ance seemed crowding about him.
They would speak of him when it was
| known that he was gone. They would
| speculate as to the fate that had befallen
jhim. ‘hey would say he had always been
‘“white,’’ and some of them would drop
a tear for him.

Then came other faces—sweet; girlish
faces. dark-eyed, rosy-
cheeked Inza, smiled upon him, and then
seemed to float away, casting encouraging
glances over her shoulder.

May Blossom followed Inza, tossing her
yellow curls, seeming ready to laugh or
weep, and uncertain which she would do.

Then Elsie Bellwood drew near and held
out her hands to him, pleading in her eyes,
her face sad and sweet. He longed to touch
those outstretched hands, to whisper some-
thing in her ear that would bring a smile
to her “face.

There were others whom he had met
in traveling about the world—Kate Ken-
you, the moonshiner’s daughter, Vida
Melburn, whose half-sister was ‘‘Queen
of the Counterfeiters,’? and last came
dark-eyed little Pepita, whoin he had been
instrumental in saving from the clutches
of Black Miguel. Z

Pepita had thanked him a hundred
times for his friendship toward her
| brother, for what he had done for both of
them. She had even kissed ‘his hand.

He had not told her that the sight of
her picture, which Juan carried in a tiny
locket, had influenced him in hurrying to
her rescue. She was happy with Alvarez,
her lover, and he would not mar their
happiness. = - =

Never again would he see any of them;
he must die in the desert and become fooe
ifor vultures or wild beasts.
| The moon was is thrusting its rim, 1 up be-

Barney

 

Inza Burrage,

 

 

     
     
 
 
     
    
      
   

 
 

  

16

 

tween two swells; its white light would
soon flood the desert.

What was that?

A strange, wild cry rang through the
night.

Frank’s flesh crept upon his bones, for
he knew the cry came from the throat of
some wild beast.

‘‘Some.creature has scented me,’’ he
thought. ‘‘My time is not long! The end
is very near!’

The moon pushed up swiftly.
could see it over his shoulder.

He saw something else, for, between
himself and the moon, crept a long, cat-
like figure of gigantic dimensions.

A panther was crouching there and
peering down into the hollow!

Frank did not stir, hoping the beast
had not seen him, and would go on.

Vain hope. Down into the hollow crept
the great cat, uttering another long, low
cry. Nearer and nearer the beast came,
and the boy felt that his minutes were
drawing to a close.

**It will be over very soon,’’ he half
whispered.

Nearer! nearer! nearer! The panther
came forward, slowly, very slowly, as if
in doubt concerning the nature of the ob-
ject it had discovered protruding from the
earth. At times it stopped for some mo-
ments and lay close to the ground, its
gleaming eyes fastened on the eyes of the
helpless boy.

Finally the panther began to walk
about the boy, sniffing at the head which
protruded. from the ground. Plainly it was
puzzled by what it saw. |

Having made a complete -circle, the
beast paused before Frank, deuad low,

and seemed to be gathering itself.
Frank felt that his last minute had

come, for the creature was preparing to

leap.

= ‘Then the boy found his voice and ut-

”

Frank

 

- FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

Instead,
it began to frolic and gambol about the

The panther did not spring.

boy, purring loudly. It rolled over and
rubbed itself along the ground,
rolled a small stone between its paws, and
acted exactly like a huge kitten at play.
Great drops of cold perspiration stood
on the boy’s face, and he scarcely dared
draw a breath. He had seen a cat toy

over,

it, and he felt that thus the panther was
toying with him.

‘It will soon get tired,
must die!’? thought Frank.

But the moon rose higher, and still the
panther continued. to gambol and frisk
about. :

Then came another sound from far
across the desert—another cry. i

“It is the panther’s mate!’? Sie
Frank.

But the great cat did not answer the
cry. Instead, it suddenly stopped playing,
bristled up: fiercely, and uttered a low
growl.

Then Frank thought another male
panther must be approaching, and the
first one feared it would lose its prey.

and then I

death !’’ was the boy’s mental exclamation.

In a short time the cry was repeated,
sounding much nearer than before.

Somehow it did not.seem like the cry
of the panther which ‘the boy had heard
in the first place; it was quite a_ different
note.

The panther was lashing the ground
with its tail, seeming to grow more and
more enraged with each passing moment.

A third time came that cry, and it was
close at hand. A moment later a long,
slim, supple form came into view over a
ridge.

It was not a panther, as Frank imme-
diately saw, but it was a jaguar. Between
the panther and“the angune t there exists an

 

nudyiag enmity. ae

 

with a mouse before crushing and eating

“Tf they will meet and fight to the

 
 

 

 

    
      
 

  

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE. 17

ing into the hollow.
and snarled and spit.

It saw the panther,

| The panther crept near enough to touch

Frank’s face with its nose, and it actually

The panther was hugging the ground, | licked the boy’s cheek with its great,

and it growled in return.

boy. ‘‘If they will kill each other!’’

‘rough tongue!
“Tf they will only fight!’ thought the|

Frank was paralyzed with amazement.

|
|The great cat purred loudly, and con-

The jaguar hesitated about entering! tinued to lick the boy’s face.

the hollow.

other, met, grappled, tore, bit, snarled,
and howled. ae aaa over they rolled,

flinging up dirt and pebbles from the|
ground, while the helpless lad watched |

the battle with the greatest anxiety.

The struggle was not a long one, for|
the panther was heavier and stronger than |
the jaguar, which was finally crushed to
the earth and held there,

lips there, and drank the dying beast’s
blood.

hopelessly.
At length it was all over.

and licked its paws.

For some time the victorious creature
sat there licking itself, seeming to have
forgotten the boy.

‘Tf it would forget and go away!”’
thought Frank.

The helpless lad remained as quiet and
motionless as a stone, hoping the panther
would forget him; but such a thing was
not to happen.

After atime, the panther approached
the boy once more, walked arougd him,
as if inspecting the thing it saw protruding
from the ground.

“Get out!’’ shouted Frank, as the beast |

sniffed at his face.
The panther jumped away and then

jumped back, exactly like a huge cat. It

did not seem so lively as it had been be-

fore drinking the blood of the jaguar.
_ All at once a singular thing occurred.

 

It sniffed the air, and then, |

of a sudden, sprang down from the ridge. t
Two supple figures sprang toward each |

isome minutes,

The panther!
tore open the jaguar’s throat, fastened its |
\in the morning,’’ thought Frank.
‘simply prolongs the agony.”’

“Tt is my turn next!’’ muttered Frank, :

 

 

This continued for some time, and then
he panther deliberately curled itself on
the ground near at hand, purred softly
finally became _ silent,
| closed its eyes, and went to sleep!

CHAPTER VII.
SAVED!

The moon climbed into the sky, . and
the night crept on with leaden feet. The
sated panther slept.

‘‘He is waiting to make a meal off me
“This

It is impossible to tell what strange,

| wild fancies flitted through the brain of
The jaguar the unfortunate lad during the tedious
lay dead on the ground, and the panther |
seemed satisfied, for it sat up like a cat |

hours while helplessly buried to his neck
with the gorged panther sleeping less
than ten feet away.

Although he was orfe of the kind who
never cease to hope as Jong as life re-
mains, still he knew he had not one
chance in ten thqusand to escape death.

‘The stars were beginning .to pale and
morning was not far distant, when he
fancied he heard a sound far away on the
desert.

The panther heard it, for he awoke,
lifted his head, and listened. :

‘*Something has aroused him, and now
he will finish me,’’ said the- boy,
mentally.

The sounds—a faint, irregular thud-
thud—became more and more distinct
The panther started up, saw the head of
the helpless lad, stared at it a moment, as"
if sutprised, and then began to eS pice
more. oF
The great cat seemed very

    
   
    
  
  
 
   
    
   
    
  
 
  
 
   
 
   
    
    
  
   
 
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
 

  
  

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

natured. It advanced and sniffed at Frank, |is preferable to the one to which my un-
and seemed on the point of beginning to|known enemy has left me.”’
gambol again, when it paused to listen| He opened his mouth to utter a shout
once more. ; —he sought to cry for help.

Nearer and nearer catne the sounds, To his horror, the sound that came
and a wild thrill stirred the boy’s heart/from his lips was scarcely louder than a
and sent the sluggish blood hurrying | whisper. It seemed that he had suddenly
through his veins, for he fancied he recog-| lost the power to utter a loud ery.
nized the sounds. | Again and again he tried, but the same

“‘Horses!’? he pauted, forgetting him-| husky sound issued from his throat.
self and speaking aloud—‘‘horses, and|' The horses had passed, and their hoof-
coming this way! Are they ridden ?’’ ‘beats were sounding less and less distinct.

That there was more than one he was}He caught a glimpse of two fleeting
certain. He could tell that much by the torms that passed over a rise, anda groan
beating of their hoofs. lof despair came hollowly from his dry

The panther was uneasy. It moved to throat.
and fro, pausing now and then to listen. “Lost l?

It had ceased to purr. Now he felt certain the horsemen were

A sudden desire to shout as loudly as/not ‘his enemies. They had known noth-
possible came over Frank; but he choked! ing of his presence.
back the cry that rose in his throat: Fainter and fainter sounded the hoof-

“Tf J shout it may enrage the panes, beats.
so the creature will leap upon me,’’ was} ‘‘Help! help! help!”
his thought. Frank had found his voice at last, but

If he did not shout, the horsemen—in|it was too late to make the horsemen
case the horses were mounted—might|hear. Onward they went through the
pass without knowing any one was near. |night, and the sound of theiz horses’ feet

The horses wege coming directly toward died out.
that spot, and now came another thought; At that moment Frank came nearer
that was far froin pleasant. giving up hope than ever before in his

‘Perhaps it is my my sterious foe re-|life. It seemed that fate was against him
turning with companions. If not, why|—that he was doomed. He saved at him-
should they come directly toward this|self because of his inability to shout, and
place?’ then he became silent and unconscious,

“The panther whined uneasily, crouched | for the time, of his surroundings.
close to the ground for some moments,| Something aroused him once more. It
and then started up of a sudden and hur-| was like a faint shout, far away. ‘There
riedly skulked away. Frank watched the} was another sound, a faint, thud-thud,
beast till it disappeared over the crest of| growing louder and louder.

a ridge. The lad’s heart leaped into sis throat,

The boy could hardly realize that the|and he gasped:
fierce creature had departed without doing| ‘‘Are they coming back? Can it be? Is
him the least harm. it possible???

Nearer and yet nearer came the horses.| It seemed most improbable and un-
They were close at hand—they: were/ likely. Why should they come back?
passing! — ; And yet the sounds were becoming: more
“Never mind if they should prove to be | distinct with each moment. he

nies,”’ thought the boy. ‘Any death]. Spang! oe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
     
  
 
   

 
 

 

 

  
    

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

Ot that
now he
satne from

It was the report of a rifle.
there could be no doubt. And
plainly heard shouts which
human lips.

“They are coming !?’

His voice should not fail him this time; |

he would make them hear.
all his energy till they came yet nearer.

Once more a rifle shot rang out.

‘It cannot be the gauchos,’’ decided
‘the helpless boy; ‘‘for they do not use
rifles. Who is it, then ?’’

This time the horsemen came straight
toward the spot where Frank was buried
in the ground to his neck. They were
urging their horses fiercely, now and then
uttering shouts.

+3

Suddenly over a ridge came a supple
creature that seemed to limp as if injured.

It was a panther!

The animal ran down into the. hollow
close to Frank, and there it crouched,
whining piteously and lapping at a wound
in its shoulder.

‘*Great Scott!’ gasped the boy. “‘I be-
lieve it is the same panther — my
panther !”’

The beast whined again, and crept
nearer Frank’s head.

Over the ridge dashed two horsemen,
with a led animal in tow. They saw the
crouching panther, and uttered cries of
satisfaction. Round the head of one of
them whirled the noose of a lasso.

‘‘Stop!? shouted Frank Merriwell,
with all the force he could command.
‘You must not harm this beast. It has
saved my life! Stop, I say!’

They heard him, they. saw his head
protruding from the ground, with the
moonlight falling full on his face, and
great was their amazement. In a moment
the horses were flung on their haunches,
while one of them lifted a rifle to his
shoulder. :

‘‘Stop!’’ screamed Frank. ‘‘You must
not shoot! Stop, I tell you Oe

\

 

He reserved |

 

  

  

19

The rifle dropped, and a cry of joy
came from the one who held it.

‘‘Gol dern my skin ef it ain’t Frank.’
’ It was Ephraim Gallup!

‘“Shiver my timbers if it ain’t the
boy!’’ roared the other, who was John
Smith, the gaucho.

The panther began to creep away.

‘Let the creature go,’’? commanded
Frank. ‘‘It has saved my life. You must
not kill it.”’

‘‘All right, my hearty,’’ said Smith.
‘“This youngster here has socked a bullet
into the critter; but we’ll let it go if you
say so.”’

‘‘I do say so. Let it go, and get me out
of here as quickly as you can.”’

Smith sprang down, drew his knife,
and was soon digging away the earth
about Frank. Ephraim dismounted and
aided, the panther having disappeared.

In a short time the boy. was dragged
from the ground and set at liberty, but he
was so benumbed that he could not stand.
When he had rubbed his limbs till the
blood circulated freely once more, he sat
up and told them his story, to which they
listened in great amazement.

‘Gol dern ef I ever heard uv a panther
actin’ that way before!’’ cried Ephraim.

‘“That is nothing,’’ declared Smith.
‘““The natives here give the panther a
name that means ‘friend of man.’
Panthers never attack men, unless’ first
attacked. Even then they are likely to
run away till cornered, when they may
crouch and whine and cry till killed.
They have a way of playing round trav-
elers in the desert and on the Pampas.
Barnyard cattle have killed a dern sight
more humans than panthers ever did, dash
my buttons if they ain’t!’’*

This seemed sq improbable that the
Smith . was

* This is true of the South American panther. .
When it is in a playful spirit, if a lone traveler comes
along it is as #lad to see him as a petted cat is to see
its mistress, and just about as likely to do him harm. ,
~-AUTHOR. tage

 

  
    
      

20

drawing the long bow, but he insisted
that he spoke the simple truth.
Frank questioned the others as to how
they happened to be there at that time.
The gaucho explained that he had
searched for Frank after they had become
separated during the hunt of the guana-
cos, but finally decided that the boy must
have returned to the river. But when he
arrived at the camp Frank was not there,
_and his report produced great excitement.
Ephraim Gallup insisted on starting at
once to search for the missing lad, and,
having secured a fresh horse, Smith
started out with the boy from Vermont.
The search had been at random to a
great extent, and the gaucho had felt that
it was hopeless, but Ephraim would ‘not

te : rest. At last, they had found ‘a saddled
ie and bridled horse wandering on _ the
; desert, and the animal proved to be the

hi: one Frank had ridden.

‘This discovery had caused them both
to believe there was little hope of ever
seeing Frank Merriwell again, but the
' frantic Yankee boy had insisted on con-
__tinuing the search, and the reader knows
. the result.

it Fae

eS esa

2 CHAPTER VIII.
OLD ENEMIES APPEAR.

Morning came.
5 The gaucho and the two boys were rid-
ing hard. for the Rio Salado, and the line
of timber along the river was in sight.

r63SC(S~SCS* Listen!’ cried Frank. ‘‘Did you hear
_ anything?’’.
“Dash my toplights if I didn’t!’ re-
| turned Smith, explosively.

f =—si(as« What did it sound ilke ?””
eee “Shooting. ’’

‘(That is what I thought I heard.”’

“T be gol derned ef you fellers hain’t

t the longest ears I ever saw!’?

a exclaimed Ephraim. ‘‘I didn’t hear

 

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOR,

The horses were urged to a still faster
pace.

‘There!’ shouted Frank.
again!”?

‘So did I,’’ nodded Smith.
what it means ?’’

“Something is wrong at the camp,

“T heard it

‘Wonder

|that’s what.’

“T ook there! What is that black smoke

|that’s rising above the trees—what does

that mean ?’’

Smith did not speak again, but he rode
like a fiend.

All three horses were tough and hard,
so the gaucho did not ride away from ee
boys.

‘‘Perhaps my unknown ‘foe is behind
this,’? thought Frank. ‘‘It is possible he
means to clean out the entire party, and
is trying to continue his work at the
camp.’ 2

As they came nearer repeated shots
could be heard, and it seemed a regular
battle, or a skirmish,.at least, was taking
place. —T’he soft grass and earth partially
muffled the sound of their horses’ feet,
and no sounds came from their lips. -

At last they came in sight of the hut,
and saw that the dry grass roof was all
aflame. .

In a little grove at a distance a number
of men were hugging the trunks of trees,
from behind which they were shooting at
the door of the hut, which was closed.

As Smith and the boys stared in aston-
ishment, a puff of smoke leaped Out froin
the side of the hut, and the report of a
rifle followed, showing that some one had
fired a shot from within.

“‘Our friends"are penned in the hut)?
palpitated Frank. ‘‘The moment they ap-
pear at the door they will be shot down
like dogs. In some way these ruffians
have fired the roof, and it is but a ques-
tion of time when those within eee
will have to come out or roast.’’

“Dang my buttons, but you're ehh eee

- |nodded Soe

 

 

 

 

 

siecle

 

 

 
 

 

 

 
   
    
  
  
    
  

       
     
   

  

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

‘Who be them fellérs behind the
trees?’ asked Ephraim.

‘‘T know them!’’ guardedly cried the
other lad. ‘‘Although I have seen his
face but once, I know that big man with
the fierce black beard.’

‘"Who is it?’’

“Black Miguel.”’

‘he Chilian bandit???

utes

‘Wal, Ibe gol derned! Who’d ever
thought he’d follered us here!’’? gasped
Ephraim. ‘‘It beats all natur!’’

‘‘See!* palpitated Frank—‘‘see that
other man, who is keeping in the back-
ground. ‘Take a good look at him!”’

Wal 22?

“Ten to one that is the Marques
Aguila, Senor Matias’ deadly enemy! If
so, he is the one who has urged Black
Miguel to follow us—he is the one to fear
above all others.”’

“‘Dang them all!’’ grated John Smith,
harshly.. ‘‘They’ve set my house afire!
I’d like to get square.’’

‘Follow me!’’ directed Frank. ‘‘Get
ready to shoot, Ephraim, and open on
them when Ido. Now, Mr. Smith, you
will see the value of a rifle.’’

‘‘Oh, well, I dunno. I may be able to
create some disturbance myself. Iam with
you, youngsters. ”’

Straight toward the besieging party they
charged, and the attention of the men was
so much given to the hut and its inmates
that the trio were able to get close upon
them before being discovered. tt

The moment the bandits saw the three
horsemen, Frank Merriwell gave the
command to open fire.

Ephraim could not work his rifle nearly
as fast as Frank could, but he did well,
and, between them, they seut a hailstorm
of bullets whistling about the ears of the
astonished and dismayed outlaws.

One or two of the bandits were seen to

?

fall, and the others were thrown into the

.

itinost confusion.

 

    

21

A short distance away, beyond some
foliage, were horses, and the outlaws,
after firing a few scattering shots, made a
rush for the animals.

The door of the burning hut was flung
open, and Juan Matias sprang out, utter-
ing wild cries of joy.

“*Give-a dem fits, Frank!’’ screamed the
Spanish lad. ‘‘Shoot de villains—shoot
dem all!’

Pepita, Alvarez, and Senor Matias fol-
lowed the boy from the hut, all seeming
overcome with joy by the opportune ap-
pearance of Frank Merriwell and his com-
panions.

The bandits, although they outnum-
bered their assailants, were so overcome
with astonishment and consternation that
they mounted their horses in hot haste
and made off,

‘The danged greasers are a brave lot!”’
observed John Smith, sarcastically. ‘‘They
sometimes do things that give people
the impression that they are utterly reck-
less and don’t care a hoot for their lives,
but they’ll run four times out of. five
when attacked by an inferior force.”’ e

‘“We have no time to pursue them,”’’
said Frank. ‘‘We must see if we cannot
save the hut.”’

‘‘Shiver my timbers if that ain’t right,
boy! All the same, there’s little show to
save it, for the whole roof is burning.’’

They wheeled and rode swiftly toward
the hut, from which the little party that
had been imprisoned there was now bring-
ing forth whatever things of value they
could find.

When the hut was reached it was seen
that there was no way to save it, the fire
being too far advanced. a

“Oh, Frank!’ cried Juan; ‘‘it is glad
we are to see you alive! We did think
you must be dead.”’

Senor Matias was greatly agitated.

‘“‘You saved us when you did come as _

you did come,’’ he said. ‘‘My enemy have
followed me to this place. Aguila d

 
   
 

aca

 

_ and a blazing arrow the Indian did shoot
_ into the dry grass on the roof. It burned. If
ou did not come so as you did, we must |

22

not mean ever to take one rest till I am
dead.” He is a monster!”?

‘“Then you are sure Aguila was with
that party?’ asked Frank.

‘“‘T am that sure, for him I did see with
my eyes. He has paid Black Miguel to
make the purstit—he has hired the la-
drones who with him were. They are not
so brave as Black Miguel’s men he did
have beyond the mountains, or they would
have fought, and would not have been
made to run away so easy.”’

‘They are cowards and curs,’’ said
Frank. ‘‘We should not fear them.’?

‘“‘Ah! but it is like the snake they can
creep upon one, and like the snake they
can strike. That is why they should be
so much feared. ‘hey will follow us—
Aguila will find the time which is right
to do his way, and I shall die.’’

Pepita flung her arms about her father,
speaking swiftly, passionately, in Span-
ish, her pretty face upturned. He stooped
and kissed her, trembling a little with
fear and excitement.

Juan turned away, murmuring to
Frank:

‘“My poor fardare! He be not like dat
before Black Miguel hold-a him in de
cave. He be ver’ brave, but dat ladrone,
dat wretch, he made my fardare what he
is!??

_. ‘How did the ruffians happen to find
you?’’ questioned Frank.

“That Ido not know,’ answered the
boy, growing calmer, and speaking more
distinctly. ‘They must have followed to
this spot in some way, Frank. It was after
Alvarez had returned from his search for
you onthe Pampas that they appeared,

_just as the morning was breaking. Alvarez

saw them; they saw him. ‘They pursued

ze him here. We got into the hut, which we

did defend. With them was one Indian,

 

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

have come to the outside of the hut, and
the ladrones would have shot us all.”’

‘Well, fortune has not gone back on
us yet,’? laughed Frank, thinking of his
own imatvelous escape. ‘‘Aguila may
think he is dealing with children, but he
will discover his mistake.”’

“Ah! but Black Miguel!’ fluttered
Alvarez, who seemed in great fear. ‘‘He
is come to be after me! He will uot rest
at all till me he has killed!”’

‘In the meantime you might be able to
once do soine killing. yourself. ’’

“True that is!’? cried the young
Chilian, savagely. ‘‘He may want Pepita,
but he will never take her again while I
do live! I will fight for Pepita!”’

He hissed forth the words, his hand
quivering on the haft of a ready knife.

‘A very bad fellow to anger,’’ thought
Frank. ‘‘The girl will have to marry
him, however much she may dislike to
wed. an ex-outlaw. She cannot shake
hits,” :
Pepita had succeeded in*calming and
reassuring her father in a measure.

The hut was now enveloped in flames,
and John Smith, regarding the work of
destruction, was expressing his feelings in
very vigorous and forceful language.

Fortunately, among the things brought
from the hut was-a quarter of deer meat
and a long’ steel rod.

Having expressed himself to his entire
satisfaction Smith thrust the rod through
the deer neat, and then planted one end
in the ground, so the meat hung near the
fire, where it began to roast.

‘This will save building up any other
fire,’’ said the sailor-gaucho. ‘‘Just scrape
together some fuel to keep her going near
the meat, and we’ll have breakfast . ready
pretty soon. I’m hungry asa shark, an’
I can’t do business till I fill my sack.?’

 

 

 

 

 

ty

 

  
 

 

CHAPTER IX.

PEPIT A’ LOVE

“We are followed!”’

Frank Merriwell uttered the exclama-
tion, bringing his horse to an abrupt stop.

The rest of the party drew up. All
were mounted and making their way
across the Pampas, guided by John Smith.

Smith uttered an ejaculation of impa-
tience.

‘“Have you just found that out???’
demanded. ‘Why, I have known
sharks were in our wake for hours.”’

“And you said nothing about it—why
not???

“What was the use? It would only
¢ make ye nervous, and it wouldn’t stop
the critters back there from follering.’’

‘“We should have known they were
there, and——’’

‘‘What good would that have done?”’

‘“We could have been prepared for any
attack.’’

‘They will not attack us till they think
they can take us by surprise and overcome
us with a rush.”’

Smith was cool and confident, and the
agitation of the party subsided. The
gaucho continued:

“Night is the time when them sharks
will come at us. We must be on the watch
for them then. They may not attack us
the first night, but they won’t let us fin-
ish the cruise across the Pampas and run
inter port ’thout tryin’ us a crack. When
they do come, dang my buttons! we want
to be ready ter give it to them hot and

‘heavy.”’

‘Ts there no way we can keep them
from following us?’

‘‘Just you name a way.’’

CSF ean’t.??

‘“There ain’t none.

. Serving away, back all the time. We ain’t

 

a}

he
the

pa om se mene ~

 

 

 

 

ie ang a

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

They kin trail us,

 

again till they attack ipeace till one of us is dead.”’

      
   
    
    
    
    
   
   
   
    
  
   
  
   
       
      
        
   
 

23

us. You wouldn’t seen them this time if
you hadn’t looked back just as they came
over that swell.’’

Frank acknowledged that this was
right. He had discovered the pursuers by
accident, and they were so far away that
he had not felt sure they were pursuers
when he first saw them.

Senor Matias was agitated with fear,
seemingly having lost his nerve entirely.

“My enemy ! my enemy!’ he groaned,
in Spanish. ‘‘Will he never
peace! A thousand curses on him!’’

‘Be calm, father,’’ urged Pepita, press-
ing: close to his side. ‘‘ Remember how
easily Frank Merriwell and his two
American companions put your enemy to
flight. They are brave, and they will de-
fend you.”’

“Tt is always the Americans !’’ exclaimed
Alvarez, bitterly. ‘‘Do you forget Iam
here? I can fight, as well as Frank as
riwell.’?

“But you, too, fear Black Miguel,’’
said Matias. ‘‘He is on your trail to kill
you, and you know it.”’

‘“‘Which is the greater reason why I
should be ready to fight him. All I ask is
a good opportunity to finish Black Miguel.

I am satisfied it is his life or mine.’’

‘‘And I am. satisfied,’’ said Matias,
“that I must kill Aguila, or-he will kill
me. Still I dread tg face him. Once I
feared no man, but the darkness and the
terrors of my cavern prison made a coward
of me—made me an old man, broken
down and white haired, While confined
therc, I swore a thousand times that,
should I ever get free, I would know no
rest till Aguilla lay dead at my feet. He
used to come round and laugh at me, spit
on me, kick me! Then I would curse him
—TI would try to get at his throat with
my hands—I would pray for life, that I
might have revenge. But the sunlight,
the free air, my children, all made me long _
for peace. It is plain there can be no

O45

give me

 
   
  
    

     

 

 
  
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
   
  
   
  
 
 
   
  
   
  
 
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
    
  
   
 

-

24

Juan’s hand fell on his father’s arm,
and he firmly said :

“‘Your enemy shall die—I swear it! It
is my duty to see that the wrong to my
father is avenged, and that I shall do.”’

Matias smiled faintly on his son, clasp-
ing the hand that touched his arm.

‘“You are brave, my boy—but you are
young. I fear you do not know what you
say. You can be no match for the Mar-
ques de la Villa del Villar de la Aguila,
one of the craftiest and most bloodthirsty
scoundrels who ever lived. He has friends

”

‘‘So have I;’’ declared Juan, proudly.
‘‘Frank Merriwell and Ephraim Gallup
are my friends, father. They have stood
by me through many dangers, and either
one of them is more valuable than all the
friends Aguila can buy with his money.”’

John Smith uttered an exclamation of
impatience.

““We are wasting time, mates,’’ he
growled. ‘‘We must hoist anchor and get
‘under way again.’’

So they rode onward across the grassy
plain. Wild creatures started up before
them and fled, the most of them escaping

. unharmed. Enough were shot to provide
meat for the party.

At midday they halted and ate from
the food they had brought along, but hur-
ried onward again when they had finished.
Toward night they halted again, and
cooked enough meat for supper; but they
did not camp on that spot, knowing their
enemies would have them located.

When darkness had settled on the
great plain they gathered everything and
went onward through the night, making
as little noise as possible.

Before it was time for the moon to rise
they found a sheltered hollow in which
they resolved to pass the remainder of the
night.

Frank was chosen as guard for the first
part of the night, Ephraim to follow him.
_ The gaucho would not allow them to

speak aloud, and he cautioned Frank not
to leave the hollow while on guard, and
to be constantly on the alert. ~

All seemed tired. Smith rolled

quillango about him, and seemed to fall

at once. Alvarez smoked a cigarette,

en wrapped himself in his blanket,

eming to sleep. The others, wi

”)

    
 

   

FRANK MERRIWELL'S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

his}

 

the exception of Frank, lay down, and
their heavy breathing soon told they were
jin the land of dreams.
|. Frank crept to the crest of a rise,
| where he lay on the ground, his rifle at
j his side, listening and watching.
| All was still on the vast plain. . The
moon would soon rise away in the east.

Frank lay there thinking of the adven-
tures. through which he had _ recently
passed. He fell to wondering concerning
ithe identity of his mysterious foe. ’

The boy had remained thus gfor some
time when, of a sudden, he felt a touch
upon his shoulder. In the twinkling of
an eye he had grappled witha person who
| was at his side, easily forcing the indi-
vidual back upon the ground.

‘*Don’t hurt me!’’? was panted in his
ear.’ ‘‘I did not come to harm you.”’

‘*Pepita!”? )

Frank was amazed, for it was indeed

 

Juan’s sister.
“‘Yes, Pepita,’’? she whispered, falter- a

ingly. ‘‘I could not sleep, and I came

here.”

| “‘I was thinking of the man who has ~

twice tried to kill me,’’ said Frank. ‘‘I
grasped you, thinking you might be the
wretch. I beg your pardon, senorita.’’

“Tt you do have, Senor Frank. I was
thinking of the danger to my father from
his enemy. I did not know that enemy
come upon the camp to-night.’’

‘‘But you knew I was on guard. Could
you not trust me?’’ "

“I could, Frank—I could trust you! I
could trust you!”’

She seeined strangely agitated, and
Frank felt somewhat abashed. The situa-
tion was not at all to his liking.

‘Then if you could trust me why did
you come here ??’

“‘T wanted to speak with you.”’

“You should have chosen some other
time. If Alvarez should know——’’

‘‘What do I-care!’’? came fiercely from
her lips. ‘‘What is Alvarez to me! He is
not the guardian of me.’’

‘But he is your sweetheart.’?

‘““No!?? she panted. ‘‘He forced himself
upon me, Frank! I do not love him. +
What can I do??? Lier Be Ss

oak , ;

Jove, that’s a poser!

 

    
        
     
       
        
 
     
      
        
    
     
        

 

h | not love Alvarez, you are in

 
 

  

   
 

 

 

 
 
  
    
 
 

 
      
 
 

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE. 25

for he loves you, and he will not readily |
give you up. You owe him much——’”’

“That is the truth,’’ she confessed,
hesitatingly. ‘‘I feel that I am bad when
him I do not love, but I do not be able to|
forcé myself to care for him.. I have
made the try. What more can I do,.
Frank?”

‘Try again.”’

“It is not easy. I remember that he
has been a ladrone. As my husband, my |
father would look on him with shame. |
He says not so—he says nothing—but I|
know.”?

“Do you remember that it is quite
likely that Alvarez saved your life and
your father’s life???

‘*T remember.”’

“And still——”’

‘‘Oh, Frank!’ she sobbed; ‘‘how is it
possible that I should love him when it is
another that I love?”’

Frank felt more uncomfortable than be-
fore.

“‘Great Scott !’’? he mentally exclaimed,
“‘can it be she is in love with me? Is it
possible that she is going to make a dec-
laration of her love???

‘‘Pepita,’’ he whispered, ‘‘you must go

‘back with the others—you must not fe-

main here longer. Alvarez is likely to be
jealous, and, if he should awaken, it
might cause trouble.”’

“T can’t go back till you I have told,
Frank.”’

In vain he urged her; she insisted that
she had more to say, and she must say it.
She was so close that he could feel he?
warm breath at his ear as she panted forth
the words. Her eyes glowed through the
darkness, and he knew her red lips were
quivering with the intensity of her feel-
ings.

‘There is another that I love, and he
does not know,”’ she went on, her hand
closing on Frank’s wrist. ‘‘Till now I
have not dared let him know. I have
feared that he does not care one thing for
me—that I do still fear.”’

It was with no little difficulty that
Frank repressed a groan of dismay. He
saw that nothing could check her. She
was excited, her hot Spanish blood was

aroused, and she would speak.

_ “Jf Iam the one, my only course is to
tell her frankly and fairly that I do not

 

care for her,’’? he thought. ‘‘She is pretty,
and I might get broken up over her if I
did not remember another whose face I
see so often in my dreams. Pepita can be
nothing to me.’’

“Tisten, Frank, I must tell some one
—you I mfist tell! "Mhe one for whom I do
care does not know. Heis not from my .
own country and my own people.”’

“Tt’s coming!’ thought the boy.

‘“He did come from far to the north,”’
the girl continued. ‘‘He is brave—very
brave. And I do love him, Frank!”’

‘““But he may not care at all for you,
Pepita.”’

““That is what I do fear.’’

‘“Then you will be true to Alvarez ??’

“How can I that when Alvarez I do
not love???

“Vour duty——’

“Duty—ah! what is duty to love?
With Alvarez all my life may be so. very
miserable! With the one I do love, all
my life would be so very happy !”’

Again Frank tried to tell her that the
one she loved might not care for her, and
it was folly for her to think so much of
him till she knew, but she seemed quite
unable to listen to reason.

“If I could tell him!’’. she whispered,
passionately. ‘‘I know it is*not the thing
that a girl should let herself do; but how
is it that I must keep my love a secret
in my heart. If he knew he might love
me. He shall know! I must tell you,
Frank.”’

She leaned still closer, bringing her
lips near to his ear, and panted:

‘“The one I do love so much is—Senor

Gallup!”’

)

paced
CHAPTER X.

WHEN MORNING CAME.

Frank Mertiwell came near uttering a
cry of astonishment and relief.

‘Jupiter!’ he gasped.

Pepita said something in Spanish, but
Frank did not understand what it was.

To confess the truth, Frank was not
only relieved, but he was a trifle cha-
grined.

“‘T came very near making a fool of ©

myself,’ he thought. ‘‘I fancied the girl — es

had fallen in love with me, and I nearly
betrayed it to her. 1 am glad I am not the

   

  

  

  

   
 

 

 

;
£

26 FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE,

one; but I wonder what Ephraim will

think about it.’’

There were a few moments of silence,
and he could hear the girl breathing
quickly at his side.

“You are to him a friend,’’ Pepita
finally said. ‘‘I felt that I must tell you.
Perhaps you know if he does care for me
at all.’?

‘““Tf so, he has kept it a secret. He has
never said anything to me about it.”’

Pepita fell back a little, seeming disap-
pointed.

‘‘Perhaps he would not be so ready to
speak,’’? she murmured. ‘‘Perhaps he is
—what you call it? -bashful.”’

‘I should not be surprised,’’ softly
laughed Frank. .‘‘He is the sort of a fel-
low who is rather back ward.”’

“Then what can I todo. In Chili the
young men are never bashful. They are
bold—too much bold. If he does not
know that I care for him, he might never

say that he did for me, if it were so that

he did.”?

‘Perhaps it is best that he should not
know, for he might find Alvarez after
him.”

‘‘Oh, is it that Alvarez must forever to
be in my way! I tell you for him I do not
care at all.” @

_ Frank saw that it would be useless: to
try to convince her that it-was her duty
to care for Alvarez. Her warm Spanish
blood was aroused, and she was not pre-
pared to reason calmly.

“Tt is best that Ephraim does not
know,’’ he mentally decided. ‘‘I must
manage to keep the truth from him.’’

‘‘Pepita,’? he said, ‘‘you must keep
your secret.”’ -

She sighed.

‘‘How am I to when I see him so much ?
Why should I?”

“T will tell you why.
madly jealous disposition, and it might
not be healthy for Ephraim Gallup if the
ex-outlaw dreamed you cared for my
friend.’?

‘“That is true—that is true! !” breathed
the girl. ‘‘Alvarez is ver’ quick with the
knife.’

‘Exactly, and he might use it on
_ Ephraim.”’
“He would be so very mad that he
ight kill Senor cae: 3

Alayrez has a}

   
  

 

‘““That’s what might happen.’’
‘Santa Maria! It must not!’’
‘“Then you must keep your love for

Ephraim to yourself—you must not be-

tray it. Not even by a word, a glance,
must you let Alvarez suspect. If you do,
you may bring about a’ tragedy—a mur-
der. If you love Ephraim, Pepita, you
will keep your secret.’’

“It is hard—it is hard!’’ she half
sobbed; ‘‘but I will do as you say that I
must—I will keep my secret.’’

‘““That is where you show your good
sense, little one.’

‘“Butit may be that he shall never
know ata =

“What is to be will be. I have come
to believe that myself. Any one who has
passed through such dangers as have be-
fallen me must believe it. If it is destined

 

that you and Ephraim are to be anything |

to each other, nothing can keep you apart.
Believe in that, and trust to fate.’’

“‘T will—I must.?’

‘That is good! Now you had better go
back*and sleep, for Alvarez might be-
come jealous of me, if he were to awaken
and know you were here. Ido not care to
have him for an enemy.’’

“‘T will go; but, Frank, remember that
I love Senor Gallup, and—and, if-the
time should come that you could, per-
haps you might—let—him—know—a—
little.”’

‘Perhaps. Go, Pepita.’’

She slipped away to where the others
were sleeping in the hollow, leaving him
*lone with his thoughts.

Frank was. somewhat dismayed when
he came to think is all over. He knew it
was too true that Alvarez would be in-
sanely jealous if he dreamed that Pepita
cared for another, and Ephraim’s life
would be in danger.

“Tt is not at all likely that Ephraim
would care a snap, for her; but that
young fire-eater must not know she cares
for Ephraim. It is plain that the sooner
we get away from Pepita and Alvarez
the better it will be.”

He wondered how long they would tig
|crossing the Pampas, and if the party

would hang together till Buenos Ayres
was reached.

Then he thought of hile and Black
‘| Miguel, the two villains who were follow-

 

 

 

 

 

34

 
 

 

 

 

  
 
  

-great plain with its mellow light.

 

 

  

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE. 27

ing them across South America with re-
lentless and deadly determination.

‘‘Rach day and every night we must. be
on our guard,’’ he muttered. ‘‘We shall
encounter them again.”’

The moon came up and flooded the
It was
so silent on the Pampas that one could
not fancy any living thing was astir there.

When his watch had terminated Frank
aroused Ephraim. ‘The Vermonter arose,
yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“‘Gol dern it all!” he grumbled. ‘‘I
was jest snoozin’ at the rate of forty knots
aminute. It’s dad-bimmed hard to hey
to git up an’ keep awake.”’

“Tt may be difficult, but take my ad-
vice and be sure that you keep awake,
Ephraim,’’ said Frank.

“Yeou ain’t seen northing, hev ye?”

(No. ”)

“Then what’s the matter that you want
me to watch out so sharp?”’

‘“There is not a moment when we may
not be in danger. Aguila has shown that
he is relentless, and Black Miguel is with
him.’

“But they don’t know where we be.”’

“Perhaps not.””

“* *Course they don’t.’’

““Still, they. may be searching for us on
the plain. It is your placé to make sure
they do not come this way without we
know it.’

‘©All right; I'll do it.’

Then Frank directed Ephraim to creep
up to the top of the swell, where he could
lay in the grass and look out on the plain,
as from that position he could surely see
any one who approached. The Yankee
boy took his rifle, and went away grumb-
ling, while Frank wrapped himself in his
blanket and lay down.

For some reason Frank did not fall
asleep immediately, although he was
weary. He lay along time, strange fancies
flitting through his brain. Just as he was
beginning to be drowsy a sudden feeling
of danger came over him, and he started
up, wide awake in an instant.

All was quiet in the camp. The sleepers
were breathing regularly, as if all slum-
bered.

“Tt was nothing but a foolish fancy,”’
thought Frank, as he lay down again.
But it had aroused him thoroughly, and

 

he again found it difficult to sleep, al-
though he knew he needed rest.

Or shall feel thie lack of sleep in the
morning,’’ he said.

After a time the drowsy feeling came
stealing over him once more. And then
he fancied that his mysterious enemy was
creeping, creeping, creeping upon him.
The man’s eyes shone like balls of fire,
and a long ‘knife was held in his teeth.
Frank struggled to start up, but seemed
held by a spell.

‘He will kill me this time!’

That was the thought which passed
through his brain.

Nearer and nearer came thé man with
the knife. Soon he was close at hand, and
the knife was raised for the fatal stroke.

_Then Frank started up again, choking
and gasping.

Not a living thing seemed to be stirring
about the camp.

‘“What a fool I am,’’ he grated, softly.
“My nerves are in bad shape. I must
sleep, for I need it. Ephraim is on guard,
and everything is all right.’’

He lay down and “slept. When he
awoke it was morning, and the camp was
in confusion. He started up, crying:

‘‘What is the matter?’

**Pepita!’’ sobbed Juan—‘‘Pepita, she
have gone!”

CHAPTER: XI.
ON CEE ER ALE;

‘‘Gone?”’

‘Yes, Frank, gone.”’

“Where?”

‘““That is what nobody can come to
tell-a.”?

‘“When did she go?”

“Nobody know. a.’’

‘When was it first discovered that she

was gone ?’’

‘*When the morning did come.”’

“But where was Ephraim ?”’

‘‘Ah, Frank, he was sleep —fast asleep. ”’

‘‘What’s that??? cried Frank, angrily.
“Did he sleep after what I said to him—
after my warning ?’’

‘‘Gol dern me ef I didn’t!’’ admitted_
the Yankee boy, looking penitent and
ashamed. ‘‘Got up there in the grass, an’
it was so swizzlin’

   
  

comfortable that I jest
'dropped off. Never knowed a dern thing

    
      
   
    
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
     
  
  
  
 
   
   
  
  
   
 

28

till it was mornin’, an’ Juan was shakin’
of me. Then I hopped up, an’ he asked
where his sister was. I hedn’t seen her,
an’ I didn’t know northin’ abaout her.”’

“Oh, Ephraim!’ came reproachfully
from Frank’s lips; ‘‘I am sorry to hear
this of you.’’

‘An’ I’m gol dern sorry ter have ter
tell it to ye, by gum!”’

“Then Pepita must have disappeared
in the night ?”’

Alvarez had been listening, a mad fire
in his eyes, his white teeth showing.
From his look it seemed that he suspected
at first that some one in the camp knew
what had become of the girl; but he saw
that he was mistaken in this, and he
snarled:

‘“Fool—fool to sleep and let her go! If
something happen to her—if she do not
come back all right, the fool that sleep
when he should be awake shall feel my
knife!’

“‘Liook here, gol dern your skin!’’ cried
Ephraim; ‘‘ef anything happens to the
little gal I'll feel as bad as yeou do; but
ef yeou try to stick yeour knife into me,
Ill be swuzled ef I don’t knock abaout

- seventeen bales uv hay aout of yeou!?’

““Caramba!l”’

‘‘Wal, I dunno abaout that, but yeou
don’t want to stick no knife in me, dad
bim ye!”’

Alvarez looked as if he longed to rush
on Ephraim at that moment, but did not
dare to do so, which was quite the case.

‘‘Stop ‘your growling,’’ commanded
Smith, sharply. ‘‘We must. find out
what has become of the girl, and that we
cannot do by quarreling among ourselves.’

‘“That is right,’? agreed Frank. ‘‘Itis
not possible that Pepita was abducted
from our midst while we slept, and it is
not likely she ran away of* her own
accord.’’

_ As he said this, he thought of the con-
versation between himself and the missing
gitl during the early part of the night.
She did not love Alvarez, and she feared
him. Was it possible she had been foolish
enough to run away from him while they
were in the heart of the desert ?

“Tf so,’’ thought Frank, ‘‘the- chances
are that she will be killed by wild beasts,
r, Starve in the desert. Foolish girl!’ _
ad there been any other explanation |

    
 
   
 
  
    
    
   
   
  
   
 

 

  

   

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

of her mysterious vanishing, Frank would ©
not have believed such a thing possible.
Now it seemed to him that, thinking of
her situation, she might have grown des-
perate and done something she would not
have contemplated in quieter moments.

The gaucho had left the party, and was
slowly circling round the camping place,
his back bent, and his eyes fastened on
the ground.

‘*What’s he doin’ of ?”’ asked Ephraim.

‘Looking for the trail,’’ answered
Frank. ‘‘Wait and see what he discovers.
It is possible he may find——— Ha!”’

Smith had stooped suddenly and was
closely examining the ground. It was evi-
dent that he had found something. Ina
few moments he moved away, keeping his
eyes on the ground, and went to the crest
of the rise where the boys had remained
concealed in the grass while on guard
during the night.

Frank felt the color rushing into his
face, for he realized the gaucho had fol-
lowed the girl’s trail to that spot.

Smith remained on the crest of the rise
a minute, and then he came back, still
keeping his eyes on the ground. When
he reached the place where the little
party had slept he paused and looked at
Frank and then at Ephraim.

Alvarez was watching every move with
burning eyes, and he snarlingly demanded :

‘What you have found ?”’

Smith calmly replied:

‘*Nothing.’’

Frank drew a breath of relief. Not that
hé was in the least afraid of Alvarez, but
he felt that it was best the hot-blooded

fellow should not know that Pepita had

visited one of the guards.

Once more Smith began to walk about
the spot where the party had camped.

Alvarez watched him, swearing softly
in Spanish. :

Within a few minutes the gaucho
paused again, then turned and hurried
away, stooping and keeping his eyes on
the ground. He passed over the crest of
a rise, and disappeared from view.

Shortly after Smith came running back,
crying: -

‘Saddle and mount! I’ve foutid the
girl’s trail, and we must follow it immie-
diately.’

 

 

Senor: Matias ‘tried 6 “quusBon the:

 

 

 

  
  
   
 

 

 

   

  

gaucho, but all Smith would say was that
the girl had left the camp alone. He

hustled to bind the packs upon the backs|

of the pack animals, and the party was
ready to move in a very short time.
No one thought of breakfast.

Soon the party was ready to move, and
Away he went on)
foot, bending forward; his nose down, like.

Sinith was followed.

a hound on the scent.

Alvarez was quivering with excitement.
He fired a score of questions at the
gaucho, but Smith answered not one of
them, much to the fellow’s disgust aid
anger.

For at least a mile the gaucho followed
the trail of the girl. Suddenly he stopped,
whirling on the others, and flinging up
, both hands.

‘‘A vast there!’ he roared. ‘‘Heave to!”’

‘What is it you do find?’’ fluttered
Juan,

‘That -Piictell ye later.”

He got down on his hands and knees
and examined the ground, creeping about
in the grass. He got upon his feet, and
trotted off a short‘ distance, where he
stopped to kneel and ‘examine the ground
again. ‘Then he arose, turned, and came
back. ‘The expression on his face told that
he had made a most unwelcome discovery.

Without speaking, Smith looked to. his
horse, which one of the eo had been
leading. He made sure the saddle was se-
cure, and everything was all right. Then,
gnawing a chew from a big inet of to-
bacco, he said:

“YT don’t know why the girl came here,
but she did. Here she was ‘met by a party
of seven, and they took her away—or
she went away with them of her own
free will.” :

Alvarez cursed and raved like a imaniac.
A dozen times his hand sought the haft
of his knife, a dozen times he vowed some
one should taste the steel.

Senor Matias seemed stunned.

“‘T cannot be able to believe it,’’ he
muttered. ‘‘Why should she come to do
such a thing ?”’

‘(Have you no idea who composed this
party of seven?’’ asked Frank, of John
Smith. ‘‘Is’pose it was Aguila, Black
Miguel and the rest of the gang with
them.’
> “Gol dern me ef I kin understand ay

 

FRANK MERRIWELL'S MYSTERIOUS

|had followed on the trail.

y possible, and should be ready to tush

   

3 FOE. 29

Pepita should want to go back to that
craowd,’’ said Ephraim Gallup.

‘‘Perhaps she have a lover there of
i which I do not know,’’ hissed Alvarez,
| his face black as a thundercloud. **Per-
‘haps she is tired of me, and she go back
to him. Ha! if I meet them—ha!”’

He had said quite enough to show
what he meant. If it proved that the girl
had deserted him for a former lover, he
would kill them both.

But Senor Matias would not believe
such a thing of his child. He was sure
she had been decoyed from the camp in
some manner, and had fallen into the
hands of her former captors.

Frank knew not what to think.

‘There is but one thing to do,’’ said
Smith, ‘‘and that’s to gst under way and
be after them. Come oun.

”

CHAP THR: AM.

THE LAST STRUGGLE.

Night again.

All through the long day the little party
Toward night
John Smith had said:

‘“They are making for Castro’s saloon.”

To Frank it seemed remarkable that
there should be a saloon anywhere on the
Pampas, and he asked what the  sailor-
gaucho meant, whereupon Smith ex-
plained that saloons were to be found at
convenient distances across the Pampas
and at every railway station. Some of
them did a thriving business, being favor-
ite resorts for the gauchos.

When night came on they were within
a few miles “of Castro’s saloon. Smith dis-
regarded the trail, for he felt certain the
party they were pursuing had made
straight for the saloon.

Pressing onward, a light was seen
gleaming across the Pampas. ‘Toward
this they made their way.

At a considerable distance they halted,
and they were able to hear sounds of sing-
ing and carousing.

“Gol derned ef they ain’t whoopin’ her
up!’ said Ephraim. z
It was arranged that Smith and . Frank
should go forward boldly and enter the

loon. ‘The others should get as near as

 

 

 

     
   
       
 
  

   
     
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
     
    
   
   
  
    
  
   
 
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
    
  
   
  

30

there was any shooting.

Smith led the way, and Frank followed
at his heels.

The saloon was a mud-walled hut, a
story and a half in height. It was sur-
rounded by a few trees.

Smith dashed up with a shout that
caused the door of the saloon to be flung
wide open.

‘*Ho, there, Johnny Castro!’’ roared
the gaucho. ‘‘It’s been a long time since
I struck into this port, but here I aim
again.’?
- A-little, dark-faced man _ stood in the
glare of light that came from the door-
way. ‘There was a belt around his waist,
and that belt contained no less than five
deadly looking Knives.

‘‘Hfo, Senor Smith!’’ cried this
‘“‘When you come-a here,
much welcome. Come in!”’

The horses were quickly. hitched to a
tree, and Smith boldly entered the saloon,
Frank still following.

Inside the hut the walls were éavered
7 with various government ordinances relat-
ing to affairs in the district, and especially
to the sale of liquors. There were also
great crude lithographs, representing
events in the last revolution, or some
other fighting scenes. -Mingled with both
ordinances and lithographs were the- tiny
pictures which come from packages of
cigarettes. There was a bar, some chairs,
and a table. At the table four men were
Sie: playing cards. They were savage-looking
.  desperadoes, with black beards and armed

with long knives.

man.
you be ver’

man and boy, scowling in anything but
an agreeable manner.
Another man was sitting apart, smok-
ing a cigarette. He was not so wild and
savage- looking as the others, but ‘he had
the face of a villain.
‘“Ten to one he is the Marques Be ”
thought Frank.
"The hut was divided into two. rooms,
and the door to the rear room was se-
curely closed. °

“Tf Pepita is here, they have her in
that room,’’ Frank immediately decided.
Two of the seven men were missing.
Bl ack Miguel a one othem were not "to

  

    
  
  

when they heard a signal whistle or if|

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOL.

face, crying:

These fellows stopped to stare at the]

ing a rush for the back room

ye

   

Smith made himself very much at home.
He lavghed and talked with Castro, and
for fully twenty minutes théy gossiped
about persons they knew. +

Frank was careful to place himself
where no one could get behind him.

It was plain that the ruffans regarded
Smith and the boy with suspicion, but
they endeavored to keep it concealéd.

Finally the sailor-gaucho invited every
one present to have a drink. The men
left their game and ranged up at the bar.
Rum was ‘ordered by every one of them.

The glasses were filled and lifted, and
then an unexpected thing happened.

The man nearest Smith dashed the
contents of his glass into the gaucho’s

 

 

ee

 

“Dog! spy p

Gasping and blinded, John Smith
snatched out his knife, but he must have
been stabbed to the heart but for Frank
Merriwell’s presence of mind and quick,
action,

The man who flung the rum into
Smith’s face had drawn a knife, lifted it,
and struck at the gaucho’ s breast.

The knife did not reach Smith, for
Frank Merriwell had a revolver in his
fingers, and he fired, the bullet shattering
the hand that grasped - the haft of the
knife, causing the weapon to fall to the
floor. 4

A shriek came from the rear room— a
the shriek of a female in great terror.

This ery was followed by a crashing
sound, a shot, and a strugele.

“Pepita is there!” shouted Frank
Merriwell.

Curses. of dismay broke
ruffians.

 

 

 

from the
They were on the point of mak-
when the
door was burst open with a crash, andtwo | a
desperately fighting men reeled anite the
front part of the saloon.
Those men were Black es and ae:
Alvarez! ane
‘ach was armed with a long, blood- ae
stained knife, and both were bleeding. 2
‘“The gitl!’”’ cried Black Miguel, in ~
Spanish—“‘they are getting away ae ie Sc
girl! Stop them !”? ;
Once more the ruffians started for the
back Sees but, before they could reach.
the door, Ephraim Gallup appeared | in the.
pening, a brace of revol

 

 

 
   
           
   
        
      
    

<

  
 

 

¥

 

 

 

 

 

 
   
 

 

him’ Twice I tried, once with the Snake} the Tip Top Liprary.

 

  

FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOE.

“Git back, yeou gol dern sarnips!”’? he! Knife, and once when I left him buried
shouted. ‘‘Git back, ur chaw bullets!”’ to his neck in the desert. Oh, how I

At this instant Senor Matias entered|hated him! But Iam glad I did not kill
the saloon by the front door, exclaiming:| him!’

‘““My daughter—I heard her call!”’ | Frank understood the fellow’s words,

“Tt is the last time you will hear her|and he was amazed to learn that his mys-
call!’ grated Aguila, leaping forward to|terious foe had been Alvarez; but he saw
drive a knife into the man he hated. [how the fellow could have cast the knife

Frank Merriwell saw the move, and, land escaped detection, and how he had
swift though it was, the boy was equally | found him by accident in the desert while
quick. Dropping one of his revolvers, | he slept. 4
Frank struck Aguila a smashing blow on| Alvarez had not many minutes to live.
the jaw, knocking him down. | He was swiftly growing weaker, and he
Lo chief villain of the tot fell on ‘hig (8000 breathed his last, with Pepita’s arms
own knife, which was driven deep into| about his neck, and his head on her

 

 

his body, and, with a hollow groan, he|P°som.

rolled over upon his back, scowling ma- = * 3 2 <
lignantly at Matias and gasping for breath.|. Aguila and Black Miguel were dead, so
He did not live three minutes. |Senor Matias had nothing to fear, and

In the meantime Alvarez had cut Black] the entire party made for the nearest rail-
Miguel down, but he had paid dearly for! road station, from which, with the excep-
his victory, being mortally wounded him-|tion of John Smith, they proceeded to
self. |Buenos Ayres. Smith could not be in-

Whien they saw their chief fall the re-| duced to abandon the wild life of the Pam-
maining ruffians were seized with the ut-) pas.
most consternation, and they rushed, ‘It’s good enough for me,”’ he declared.
shouting and cursing, from the saloon. | “I'll live and die a gaucho, dash my but-
They lost no time in mounting their horses |tons if I don’t??? :
and getting away.. | So he went back tothe grassy plains.

The fight was over, and the ruffians|_ Long before Buenos Ayres was reached
had been put to route; but Alvarez, his} Ephraim and Pepita were very friendly,
hand pressed to his bleeding side, was} and the Yankee boy found an opportunity
propped in a chair, calling faintly to/t° secretly inform Prank that he thought
Pepita. her a “‘slappin’ pritty gal, by gum?

Ephraim led the girl from the back
room. She was quite unharmed, but
ereatly frightened. Ephraim and Alvarez
had entered the back room by way of a
window, and the Vermonter had disposed
of Black Miguel’s companions, while Al-
varez engaged Black Miguel himself.

‘‘Pepita!’’? gasped Alvarez, in Spanish,
‘Tam going! Black Miguel has killed
me! Now you will be free, to love the
Yankee boy, Merriwell.’’

“Senor Merriwell?’’ she cried, aston-
ished. ‘*‘Why, I do not love him! How ;
could you think that, Alvarez ?”’

“*T thought I saw it in*your eyes, and I
hated him for it. You are stire you do not

 

(THE END.)

-

love him? You will swear it?” | “FRANK MERRIWELL A MONARCH;
‘“‘T will swear it, Alvarez—poor, brave] or, Tux’ Kinc oF PHANTOM ISLAND,”? °
Alvarez!’? by the author of ‘‘Frank Merriwell,’’ will

“Then I thank the saints I did not kill} be published in the next number (27) of

 

.

 

      
    
       
  
     
      
    
   
 
   
   
      
     
      
    
  
   
      
    
 
  
 
 
  

ee
de
32 FRANK MERRIWELL’S MYSTERIOUS FOR.
Ann ARBOR, Micu., July 27, 1896. 2 (
Messrs. StreET & SMITH, : MTLLsS ,

Publishers Trp Top Liprary
?

New York City. ;
DEAR SriRs:—I think everybody likes to know when a
they do anything that is appreciated, and 1 suppose you . :

will like to know what some of your boy readers of the This book of over one hundred pages contains complete instruc-
Tie’ Top LrBrary think of it. | tion in all branches of correspondence, together with samples of

e. » br ne on letters on every variety of subject—Penmansbip, Spelling, Gram-
My father brought home the three fin st CORIGES and he mar, Punctuation, Use of Capitals, Abbreviations, style; advice to
read them all through; then he gave them to me, and

i : : . those who write for the press, business letters, letters of introduc-
told me if I liked it, I could have it regular. I think | tion, application, recommendation, social, congratulation, love and

it is immense It has a good cover, and it has the} cortabiys etc., the art of secret writing, business laws and maxims,
. ri 1 Zi ; : et ibrary | rules of conducting public meetings, and all forms of conveying

nicest printed: apppeat ance of any boys Jibi al Y | thought from one mind to another through the medium of written

published, and the stories are great. I notice MY | language. This valuable.book will be sent postpaid to any address

father reads them all just as much asI do, {£ hope it | on receipt of ten cents. Address 5

will have a long life. MANUAL LIBRARY, 25 Rose street, New York.

Very truly yours,

ARTHUR WRIGHT. \ \ ] REST] ING
Eau Cuarre, Wis., July 17, 1896. | ma ee .

Publishers Trp Top Liprary, | History tells us that wrestling was the first form of athletic
New York City. pastime. Without doubt, it gives Strength and firmness, combined
JrRS:—I want to let k hat we think of | with quickness and pliability, to the limbs, vigor to the body,
DEAR SIRS sok; WARE CONOL YOU Know what we think of | coolness and discrimination to the head and elasticity to the tem-
your fine library, the Trp Tor. There are about twenty | per, the whole forming an energetic combination of the greatest
of us boys who read it regular, and we have formed a Bake to ape in ee ay pede ie eee Niger
ys mM ag = < ~ oye | MULDOON’S WRESTLING. is fully illustrated, and wi e sen
club called the Tip Top Boy 8, and our meetings are | DOBtpAId On -weeolpt oF. ten ceukm. Addtees ,
always held the same day the Tip Top arrives at the MANUAL LIBRARY, 25 Rose street, New York.
dealer’s where we buy it. Whenever we meet the first

rule is to give three cheers and a tiger for the Tre Top
Lrprary and our club. We_have some fine times cam p- AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPH Y
ing out here. We call the captain of our club Frank °
Merriwell, but his right name is Frank Jackson. He is Many people imagine that a photographer's camera is a difficult
just like the hero of the stories, and we all have to do} machine to Bangle, sus that ee work is dirty and disagreeable. All
a fe " eed A ~ this isa mistake. Photography is a clean, light, und pleasant ac-
what he says. At our ~_ be eting ve 2 men that the complishment, within the reach of all. The camera will prove a
Trp Top Lrprary has the best stories for boys we ever friend, reporter, and helper. With a very inexpensive camera any
read, and that we would write and tell you. boy or girl can now learn not only to take good pictures, but pictures
2 z AL WINTERS, that there is everywhere a demand for at remunerative prices. A
Tom ALBRIGHT complete guide to this fascinating art, entitled AMATEUR MANUAL
i ’

> oF PHOTOGRAPHY, Will be sent on receipt often cents. Address
JOHN FARRADAY. MANUAL LIBRARY, 25 Rose street, New York.

oe

 

  
   
    
   
   
    
  
    
 
   
  
 
    
 
  

   

  

BIRMINGHAM, ALA., July 7, 1896.

Publishers Trp Top Lisprary. H U NTER AN D A NGI E R
Dar Srrs:—I have been taking the Tre Top ever & eed thou .

since the first one came out, and I like it so much I Kiverybody who takes pleasure in the sports of hunting and
want to tell you about it. The stories are fine. I think angling needs this book. ‘There is no sport so well fitted to make
they are the best stories of adventure I ever read, ‘I’m | men of boys as a: ane fact of being in the open air and
. big ” Top. exercising 1S 80 evidently beneficial that it is surprising that there
going to ‘glue on’? to the ae aot ‘i are not more hunters and anglers. ‘This book will be sent to any
ours truly, address on receipt of ten cents, Address.

S.
ALFRED CONRADY. MANUAL LIBRARY, 25 Rose street, New York.

 

 

 

| The Tip Top mi,
a Quarterly _ Ce ed

FOR

COOEEEEEEEULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLEE Fifty Cents.

. 4 . 2 :
Numbers 1 to 13 of the famous Frank Merriwell Stories have been bound
in one volume including thirteen stories complete and. unabridged, and thirteen
illuminated photo-engraved illustrations.

The Frank Merriwell Stories

- detail the pranks, trials and bravery of a true-hearted, American lad—brave ~
to the core. They have received universal commendation, and the Tip Toy
Quarterly is issued in response to numerous inquiries for a complete series of
Mie ce iwrell igre eg Se i

 

 

 
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
   

 

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make
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to any
Tip Top
Library:

Thirty-two Pages. \

Price Five Cents.

weernae*

THE LIFE AND

ADVENTURES OF FRANK MERRIWELL CAN

BE FOUND ONLY IN THE TIP TOP LIBRARY,

rwornrannae

Ro Aas Ors.

LI"

1.—Frank Merriweli;
Burt L. Standish.
—Frank Merriwell’s Foe; or, ‘‘Plebe’’ Life in Bar-
3y Burt L. Satndish.
3.—Frank Merriwell’s Medal;
Camp. By the Author of

racks.
or, ‘‘Plebe’’ Life in
‘Prank Merriwell.’’
4.—Franuk Merriwell’s Rival; or, By Fair
Foul. By the Author of ‘‘Frank Merriwell.”’
5.—Frank Merriwell’s Fault; or,
Snares. By the Author of ‘
6.—Frank Merriwell’s Frolics; or,
Fardale.
7.—Frank Merriwell’s Mysterious Ring; or,
in Black.
8.—Frank Meriwell’s Fag; or, Fighting for the Weak.
By the Author of ‘ Frank Merriwell.’’
9.—Frank Merriwell’s Furlough:
the Old Mausion. By the Author of *‘
Merriwell.’’
10 —Frauk Merriwell on His Mettle: or, Vield Day at
Fardale. By the Autbor of ‘‘Frank Merriwell.’?’
11.—Frank The Old Sailor’s
Legacy.
12,—Frank Merriwell’s Motto; , The Young Life
Savers. By the Author tie eden Merriwell,”’
13.—Frank Merriwell in New York: or, Fighting an
Unknown Foe. By the Author of ‘‘Frank Mer-
riwell.’”?

Frauk

Merriwells Fate: or,

14.—Frank Merriwell in Chicago; , Meshed by aay
teries. By the Author of tacts Merriwell ’

Colorado; or,
By the Author of ‘‘Frank

15.—Frank Merriwell in
Train Wreckers,

Merriwell.”’

Play or }

False Steps and Foul |
Frank Merriwell.’’
Fun and Rivalry at
By the Author of ‘* Frank Merriwell.’’
The Man
By tie Author of ‘Frank Merriwell.”?

or, The Mystery of |

By the Author of ‘*Frank Merriwell.’? |

or First Days at Fardale. By |

|
|

|
|
|
|
|
|

Trapping tlhe |

16.—Frank Merriwell in Arizona; or, The Mysteries of
the Mine. By the Author of ‘‘ Frank Merriwell.’?

17.—Frank Merriwell in Mexico; or, The Search for t .e
Silver Palace. By the Author of ‘‘Frank Mer-
riwell.’?

18.—Frank Merriwell in New Orleans; or, The Queen of ©

Flowers. By the Author of ‘*Frank Merriwell.’?

The Phantom of the
‘Prank Mer-

19.—Frank Merriwell’s Mercy; or,
Everglades. By the Author of
riwell.”’

20.—Frank Merriwell’s Friend; or, Muriel the Moon-
shiner. By the Author of ‘‘Frank Merriwell.’’

21.—Fravk Merriwell’s Double; or, Fighting for Life
aud Honor. By tae Author of ‘*Frank Merri-
well.”’

22.—Frank Merriwell Mesbed; or, The Last of the
Danites. By the Author of +: frank Merriwell.’’

28. Frank Merriwell’s Fairy; or, The Hermit of Yel-
lowstone Park. By the Author of ‘‘Frank
Merviwell.”’

| 24.—Frank Merriwell’s Money; or, The Queen of the

‘‘Queer’? Makers. By the Author of ‘*Frank
Merriwell.’’

25.—Frank Merriwell’s Mission; or, The Mystic Valley
of the. Andes.
Merriwell.”

26.—Frank Merriwell’s Mysterious Foe; or, Wild Life
on the Pampas. By the Author of ‘‘Frank
Merriwell.’’

27.—Frank Merriwell a Monarch; or, The King of

Phantom Island, By the Author of “Frank |

Merriwell.” ,

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.

wron*

For Sale by all Newsdealers.

Every Saturday

By the Author of ‘Prank. |

4