CHAPTER V.
WILEY'S DISAPPEARANCE.
Night passed without anything further to disturb or annoy them. Themorning came bright and peaceful, and the sun shone pleasantly into theEnchanted Valley. Wiley turned out at an early hour, built the fire, andprepared the breakfast.
"Seems like I had an unpleasant dream last eve," he remarked. "Thesemeasly dreams are coming thick and fast. Night before last it waspirates; last night it was spooks. It seems to be getting worse andworse. If this thing keeps up, I will be in poor condition when thebaseball season opens in the spring."
"Then you intend to play baseball again, do you, cap'n?" asked Merry.
"Intend to play it! Why, mate, I cannot help it! As long as my goodright arm retains its cunning I shall continue to project the spherethrough the atmosphere. To me it is a pleasure to behold a batter wildlyswat the empty air as one of my marvelous curves serenely dodges hiswillow wand. I have thought many times that I would get a divorce frombaseball and return to it no more. But each spring, as the little birdsjoyfully hie themselves northward from their winter pilgrimage in theSunny South, the old-time feeling gets into my veins, and I amble forthupon the turf and disport myself upon the chalk-marked diamond. Yes, Iexpect to be in the game again, and when little Walter gets into thegame he gets into it for keeps."
"What if some one should offer you a prominent position at a salary often thousand a year where you would be unable to play baseball?"inquired Merry, with a sly twinkle in his eye. "You'd have to give it upthen."
"Not on your tintype!" was the prompt retort.
"What would you do?"
"I'd give up the position."
Frank laughed heartily.
"Cap'n, you're a confirmed baseball crank. But if you live your naturallife, there'll come a time when your joints will stiffen, whenrheumatism may come into your good arm, when your keen eye will lose itsbrightness, when your skill to hit a pitched ball will vanish--then whatwill you do?"
The sailor heaved a deep sigh.
"Don't," he sadly said, wiping his eye. "Talk to me of dreadfulthings--funerals, and deaths, and all that; but don't ever suggest to methat the day will dawn when little Walter will recognize the fact thathe is a has-been. It fills my soul with such unutterable sadness thatwords fail me. However, ere that day appears I propose to daze andbewilder the staring world. Why, even with my wonderful record as a ballplayer, it was only last year that I failed to obtain a show on themeasly little dried-up old New England League. I knew I was a hundredtimes better than the players given a show. I even confessed it to themanagers of the different teams. Still, I didn't happen to have theproper pull, and they took on the cheap slobs who were chumps enough toplay for nothing in order to get a chance to play at all.
"I knew my value, and I refused to play unless I could feel the coin ofthe realm tickling my palm. I rather think I opened the eyes of some ofthose dinky old managers. But even though Selee, McGraw, and others ofthe big leagues have been imploring me on their knees to play with them,I have haughtily declined. What I really desire is to get into the NewEngland League, where I will be a star of the first magnitude. I hadmuch rather be a big toad in a little puddle than a medium-sized toad ina big puddle. The manager who signs me for his team in the New EnglandLeague will draw a glittering prize. If I could have my old-time chum,Peckie Prescott, with me, we'd show those New England Leaguers somestunts that would curl their hair.
"Speaking of Peckie, Mr. Merriwell, reminds me that there is a boy lostto professional baseball who would be worth millions of dollars to anymanager who got hold of him and gave him a show. Play ball! Why, Peckiewas born to play ball! He just can't help it. He has an arm of iron, andhe can throw from the plate to second base on a dead line and as quickas a bullet from a rifle. As a backstop he is a wizard. And when itcomes to hitting--oh, la! la! he can average his two base hits a gameoff any pitcher in the New England League. To be sure, the boy is alittle new and needs some coaching; but give him a show and he will bein the National or American inside of three seasons."
"Are you serious about this fellow, cap'n?" asked Frank. "I am awarethat you know a real baseball player when you see him, but you have alittle way of exaggerating that sometimes leads people to doubt yourstatements."
"Mr. Merriwell, I was never more serious in all my life. I give you myword that everything I have said of Prescott is true; but I fear, likesome sweet, fragile wild-woods flower, he was born to blush unseen. Ifear he will never get the show he deserves. While these dunkheadmanagers are scrabbling around over the country to rake up players, heremains in the modest seclusion of his home, and they fail to stumble onhim. He is a retiring sort of chap, and this has prevented him frompushing himself forward."
"You should be able to push him a little yourself, cap'n."
"What! When I am turned down by the blind and deluded managers, how am Ito help another? Alas! 'tis impossible! Coffee is served, Mr. Merriwell.Let's proceed to surround our breakfast and forget our misfortunes."
After breakfast Frank and Bart discussed the programme for the day. Theydecided to make an immediate and vigorous search for the lost mine. Itwas considered necessary, however, that one of the party should remainat the camp and guard their outfit. Neither Abe nor Worthington wassuitable for this, and, as both Frank and Bart wished to take part inthe search, Wiley seemed the only one left for the task.
"Very well," said the sailor, "I will remain. Leave me with a Winchesterin my hands, and I will guarantee to protect things here with the lastdrop of my heroic blood."
In this manner it was settled. The sailor remained to guard the camp andthe two pack horses, while the others mounted and rode away into thevalley.
Late in the afternoon they returned, bringing with them a mountain goatwhich Merry had shot. As they came in sight of the spot where the tenthad stood they were astonished to see that it was no longer there.
"Look, Frank!" cried Bart, pointing. "The tent is gone!"
"Sure enough," nodded Merriwell grimly. "It's not where we left it."
"What do you suppose has happened?"
"We will soon find out."
Not only had the tent and camping outfit disappeared, but the two packhorses were missing. Nor was Wiley to be found.
Hodge looked at Merry in blank inquiry.
"Where is this fellow we left to guard our property?" he finallyexclaimed.
"You know as well as I," confessed Frank.
"As a guard over anything, he seems to be a failure."
"We can't tell what has happened to him."
"What has happened to him!" cried Bart. "Why, he has taken French leave,that's what has happened! He has stolen our horses and piked out of thevalley."
Merry shook his head.
"I don't believe that, Hodge," he said. "I don't think Wiley would dosuch a thing."
"Then, why isn't he here?"
"He may have been attacked by enemies."
"If that had been the case, we would see some signs of the struggle. Youcan see for yourself that no struggle has taken place here."
"It's true," confessed Merry, "that there seem to be no indications of astruggle."
"Do you know, Frank, that I never have fully trusted that chap."
"I know, Bart, you made a serious mistake on one occasion by mistrustinghim. You must remember that yourself."
"I do," confessed Hodge, reproved by Merry's words. "All the same, thisdisappearance is hard to explain. Our tent and outfit are gone. We'releft here without provisions and without anything. In this condition itis possible we may starve."
"The condition is serious," Frank acknowledged. "At the same time, Ithink it possible Wiley decided this location was dangerous andtransferred the camp to some other place. That's a reasonableexplanation of his disappearance."
"A reasonable one perhaps; but if that had happened! he should be hereon the watch for our return."
"Perhaps we have returned sooner than he expected."
"Well, what
's to be done, Merry?"
"We will sit here a while and see if he doesn't turn up. At least, wecan make some sort of a meal off this mountain goat."
"A mighty poor meal it will be!" muttered Hodge disgustedly.
A fire was built, however, and the mountain goat served to appease theirhunger somewhat, although without salt it was far from palatable. Therewas plenty of feed and drink for the horses, therefore the animals didnot suffer. In vain they waited for Wiley to return. Afternoon fadedinto nightfall and the sailor came not.
"Do you propose to remain here all night, Merry?" inquired Bart.
Frank shook his head.
"I don't think it advisable. We will find another spot."
With the gloom of night upon them, they set out, Frank in the lead. Hehad taken notice of a clump of thick timber in another part of thevalley, and toward this he rode. In the timber they ensconced themselvesand prepared to pass the night there. Worthington was strangely silent,but seemed as docile and as harmless as a child. When all preparationsto spend the night in that spot were made, Frank announced to Bart thathe proposed to go in search of their missing companion.
"What can you do in the night?" questioned Hodge. "You can't find him."
"Perhaps not," said Merry; "but I am going to try."
"I hate to have you do it alone."
"You must remain here to look out for Abe and Worthington."
When this was settled, Merry set out on foot. During their explorationof the valley he had observed a deep, narrow fissure near the southernextremity, into which the stream plunged before disappearing into theunderground channel. To him on discovering this it had seemed a possiblehiding place for any one seeking to escape observation. Something causedhim to set his course toward this spot.
An hour later, from a place of concealment high up on a steep bank,Frank was peering into the fissure. What he discovered there surprisedand puzzled him not a little. On a little level spot close by the streama tent had been pitched. Before the tent a small fire was burning, andsquatted around this fire were three persons who seemed to be enjoyingthemselves in fancied security. The moment Merry's eyes fell on two ofthem he recognized them as having been members of the Terrible Thirty.They were the ruffians Hank Shawmut and Kip Henry. The third person, whoseemed perfectly at his ease as he reclined on the ground and puffed ata corn-cob pipe, was Cap'n Wiley!
Was Wiley a traitor? This question, which flashed through Frank's mind,seemed answered in the affirmative by the behavior of the sailor, whowas chatting on intimate terms with his new associates.
Of course Frank had decided at once that Shawmut and Henry had somehowlearned of his expedition in search of Benson Clark's lost mine and hadfollowed him. Henry's left hand was swathed in a blood-stained bandage,the sight of which convinced the watching youth that it was this fellowwho had snatched the map and who afterward had been winged in thepursuit. In spite of appearances, Frank did not like to believe thatCap'n Wiley had played him false. From his position he was able to hearthe conversation of the trio, and so he lay still and listened.
"We sartain is all right here fer ter-night," observed Shawmut. "We willnever be disturbed any afore morning."
"Perchance you are right, mate," said the sailor; "but in the morning wemust seek the seclusion of some still more secure retreat. My lateassociate, the only and original Frank Merriwell, will be considerablearoused over what has happened. I am positive it will agitate hisequipoise to a protracted extent. My vivid imagination pictures a lookof supine astonishment on his intellectual countenance when he returnsand finds his whole outfit and little Walter vanished into thin,pellucid air."
Shawmut laughed hoarsely.
"I certain opine he was knocked silly," he said.
"But he is a bad man," put in Henry. "To-morrow he rakes this valleywith a fine-toothed comb. And he is a heap keerless with his shootingirons. Look at this yere paw of mine. He done that, and some time I'llsettle with him."
The fellow snarled the final words as he held up his bandaged hand.
"Yes," nodded the sailor, "he has a way of shooting in a mostobstreperous manner. The only thing that is disturbing my mentalplacitude is that he may take to the war path in search of my lovelyscalp."
"Confound you!" thought Frank, in great anger. "So you are a traitor,after all! Hodge was right about you. You're due for a very unpleasantsettlement with me, Cap'n Wiley."
"What binds me to you with links of steel, mates," said the sailor, "isthe fact that you are well supplied with that necessary article ofexuberancy known to the vulgar and unpoetical as tanglefoot. Seems to meit's a long time between drinks."
"You certain must have a big thirst," observed Shawmut, as he produced acold bottle and held it toward the sailor, who immediately arose andclutched it with both hands.
"Mates, it has been so long since I have looked a drink in the face thatit seems like a total stranger to me. Excuse me while I absorb a smallportion of mountain dew."
His pipe was dropped, and he wiped the mouth of the bottle with his handafter drawing the cork. He then placed the bottle to his lips and turnedits bottom skyward.
"So it is for that stuff you sell your friends, is it?" thought Frank.
Having remained with his eyes closed and the bottle upturned for somemoments, the sailor finally lowered it and heaved a sigh of mingledsatisfaction and regret.
"My only sorrow," he said, "is that I haven't a neck as long as agiraffe's. If the giraffe should take to drink, what delight he wouldenjoy in feeling the ardent trickle down his oozle! Have something onme, boys."
He then returned the bottle, and the ruffians drank from it.
"There," said Wiley, picking up his pipe, "my interior anatomy glowswith golden rapture. I am once more myself. Oh, booze, thou art thecomforter of mankind! You cause the poor man to forget his sorrows andhis misfortunes. For him you build bright castles and paint gloriouspictures. For him you remove far away the cares and troubles of life.You make him a king, even while you make him still more of a pauper. Yougive him at first all the joys of the world and at last the deliriumtremens.
"Next to women, you are the best thing and the worst thing in this wholewide world. Mates, you see I am both a poet and a philosopher. It's nodisparagement to me, for I was born that way, and I can't help it. Eversince my joyful boyhood days on Negro Island I have looked with a lovingeye on the beauties of nature and on the extracted fluid of the corn.But what of this world's riches has my mighty intellect and my poeticsoul brought me? I am still a poor man."
"But you won't be long arter we diskeevers this mine," said Shawmut. "Ifyou sticks by us, we gives you a third share."
"Your generosity overwhelms me. But it must not be forgotten that we yethave Frank Merriwell to dispose of. It is vain for you to try tofrighten him away from this valley. Last night you attempted it withyour spook trick, but it didn't work."
"What's that?" exclaimed Henry. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh," said the sailor, "you can't deceive little Walter. We heard youdoing that spook turn. But it was time wasted."
Henry and Shawmut exchanged puzzled looks.
"You certain will have to explain what you are driving at," growledShawmut.
"Don't you know?"
"None whatever."
"I fear you are still seeking to deceive me."
"Not a bit of it," averred Henry. "Whatever was yer talking about,Wiley?"
"Why, last eve, after we had partaken of our repast and were disportingourselves in comfort on the bosom of mother earth, there came throughthe atmosphere above us a singing voice which sang a sweet song allabout dead men and such things. Afterward the voice warned us to hoistanchor, set sail, and get out of this port. It claimed to be the voiceof Benson Clark, the man who first found the mine here, and who wasafterward shot full of holes by some amusement-seeking redskins. Isurely fancied you were concerned in that little joke, mates."
Both the ruffians shook their heads.
"We has
nothing to do with it," denied Shawmut.
"Well, now it is indeed a deep, dark mystery," observed the sailor. "Doyou suppose, mates, that the spook of Benson Clark is lingering in thisvicinity?"
"We takes no stock in spooks," asserted Henry.
"And thus you show your deep logical sense," slowly nodded the sailor."I congratulate you; but the mystery of that voice is unsolved, and itcontinues to perplex me."
The listening man high up on the embankment was also perplexed. IfShawmut and Henry knew nothing of the mysterious warning voice, theenigma was still unsolved. As he thought of this matter, Merry soondecided that these ruffians had spoken the truth in denying allknowledge of the affair. These men talked in the rough dialect of theirkind. The unseen singer had not used that dialect; and, therefore, themystery of the valley remained a mystery still.
Frank continued to watch and listen.
"It's no spook we're worried about," declared Henry. "If we dispose ofthis yere Merriwell, we will be all right. With you ter help us, Wiley,we oughter do the trick."
"Sure, sure," agreed the sailor.
"Thar is three of us," said Shawmut, "and that certain makes us morethan a match for them. The kid and the crazy galoot don't count. We hasonly Merriwell and Hodge to buck against."
"They are quite enough, mates--quite enough," put in the sailor. "Wewill have to get up early in the morning to get ahead of them."
"This yere Merriwell certain is no tenderfoot," agreed Shawmut.
Wiley arose and slapped the speaker on the shoulder in a friendly,familiar manner.
"Now you're talking," he nodded. "He is a bad man with a record longerthan your arm. I have dealt with hundreds of them, however; and I thinkmy colossal brain will be more than a match for him. Did you ever hearhow I got the best of Bat Masterson? It's a thrilling tale. Listen and Iwill unfold it to you. You know Bat was the real thing. Beyond question,he was the worst bad man that ever perambulated the border. Yet Ihumbled him to his knees and made him beg for mercy. That was someseveral years ago. At that time--"
Wiley was fairly launched on one of his yarns, but at that moment FrankMerriwell heard a slight movement and attempted to turn quickly, when hewas given a thrust by a powerful pair of hands, which hurled him forwardfrom the embankment and sent him whirling down toward the tent below.
Frank struck on the tent, which served to break his fall somewhat, buthe was temporarily stunned. When he recovered, he found himself boundhand and foot and his three captors surveying him by the light of thefire.
"Well, wouldn't it jar you!" exclaimed the sailor. "It was almost tooeasy. Why, mates, he must 'a' been up there listening to our innocentconversation, and somehow he lost his hold and took a tumble."
Shawmut laughed hoarsely.
"It was a mighty bad tumble for him," he said. "He falls right into ourpaws, and we has him foul. Now we're all right. Talk about luck; this isit!"
Kip Henry shook his wounded and bandaged hand before Frank's eyes.
"You did that, hang you!" he snarled. "Now you gits paid fer it!"
As the ruffian uttered these words he placed a hand on his revolver andseemed on the point of shooting the helpless captive.
"Wait a minute, mate," urged Wiley. "Let's not be too hasty. There arethree of us here, and I have a sagacious opinion that any one of us willtake morbid pleasure in putting Mr. Merriwell out of his misery. Ipropose that we draw lots to see who will do the little job."
"You seem mighty anxious to take a hand at it!" growled Henry.
"I wish to prove my readiness to stand by you through thick and thin,"asserted the sailor. "In this way I shall win your absolute confidence.Should it fall on me to do this unpleasant task, you will see the jobmost scientifically done."
As he made this assertion Wiley laughed in a manner that seemed whollyheartless and brutal.
"I didn't think it of you, cap'n!" exclaimed Frank.
"That's all right," returned the sailor brazenly. "I'm a solicitor offortune; I am out for the dust. These gents here have assured me that Ishall have a third interest in the mine when it is located. Every birdfeathers its own nest. I have a chance to feather mine, and I don'tpropose to lose the opportunity. If the task devolves upon me totransport you to the shining shore, rest easy in the assurance that I'lldo a scientific job. I will provide you in short order with a pair ofwings."
"That's the talk!" chuckled Shawmut. "How does we settle who does it?"
"Have you a pack of cards?" inquired Wiley.
"Sartin," said Shawmut, fishing in his pocket and producing a greasypack. "We has 'em."
"Then I propose that we cut. The one who gets the lowest does thetrick."
That was agreed to, and a moment later the cards had been shuffled andplaced on a flat stone near the fire. Henry cut first and exposed aking.
"That lets you out," said the sailor. "I can beat that. Come ahead, MateShawmut."
Shawmut cut and turned up a trey.
"I reckon I'm the one," he said.
Then Wiley cut the cards and held up in the firelight a deuce!
Both Henry and Shawmut uttered exclamations.
"Well, you has your wish," said the latter. "Now it's up to you to goahead with the business."
Wiley actually smiled.
"Let me take your popgun, mate," he said, extending his hand towardHenry. "Mine is a little too small to do the trick properly."
Henry handed over his pistol.
Wiley examined it critically, finally shaking his head.
"It's a mighty poor gun for a man of your standing to carry, mate," heasserted. "Perhaps you have a better one, Shawmut? Let me see."
Shawmut also gave up his pistol.
Having a revolver in each hand, Cap'n Wiley cocked them both.
"They seem to be in good working order," he said. "I should fancy eitherof them would kill a man quicker than he could wink his eye."
"You bet your boots!" said Henry.
"That being the case," observed Wiley, "I will now proceed to business."
Then, to the surprise of the two ruffians, he leveled the pistolsstraight at them.
"Now, you double-and-twisted yeller dogs!" he cried, "if you so much aswiggle your little finger, I will perforate both of you! I have thepleasure to inform you that I am a fancy pistol shot, and I think I cansoak you with about six bullets each before you can say skat."
The astounded ruffians were taken completely by surprise.
"What in blazes does you mean?" snarled Shawmut.
"I mean business," declared the sailor. "Did you low-born whelps thinkthat Cap'n Wiley would go back on his old side pard, Frank Merriwell? Ifyou fancied such a thing for the fraction of a momentous moment, youdeceived yourselves most erroneously. Now you keep still where you are,for I give you my sworn statement that I will shoot at the first moveeither of you make."
As Wiley said this he stepped close to Frank, beside whom he knelt, atthe same time keeping the ruffians covered. He placed one of therevolvers on the ground and drew his hunting knife. With remarkableswiftness he severed the cords which held Frank helpless.
"Pick up that shooting iron, Merry," he directed. "I rather think wehave these fine chaps just where we want them."
Frank lost no time in obeying, and the tables were completely turned onShawmut and Henry.
"Stand up, you thugs!" ordered Merry. "Stand close together, and becareful what you do."
Infuriated beyond measure, they obeyed, for they were in mortal terrorof their lives.
"Take those ropes, Wiley, and tie their hands behind their backs,"directed Frank.
"With the greatest pleasure," laughed the sailor. And he proceeded to doso.
When the ruffians were thus bound Merry turned to Wiley, whose hand hegrasped.
"Cap'n, forgive me!" he cried. "I was mistaken in you. I couldn'tbelieve it possible; still, everything was against you. How did ithappen?"
"A few words will clear up my seeming unworthiness," said the sailor."When you d
eparted to-day I found everything calm, and peaceful, andserene about the camp, and, after smoking my pipe a while, I fell asleepbeside the tent. When I awoke these fine gentlemen had me. Theyproceeded to tie me up to the queen's taste. Seeing my predicament, Imade no resistance. I permitted them to do just as they liked. Idepended on my tongue, which has never failed me, to get me out of thepredicament, I saw them gather up the outfit, pack it on the horses andprepare to remove it. During this I craftily assured them that I wouldgleefully embrace the opportunity to join issues with them.
"It's needless to enter into details, but they decided that it was bestto let me linger yet a while on this mundane sphere while thinking myproposition over. So I was brought thither, along with the goods andchattels, and I further succeeded in satisfying them that they couldtrust me. It was my object, when I found they were well supplied withcorn juice, to get them both helplessly intoxicated, after which I hopedto capture them alone and unaided. Your sudden tumble into this littlenest upset my plans in that direction, but everything has worked outhandsomely."
Frank Merriwell's Triumph; Or, The Disappearance of Felicia Page 6