CHAPTER IV.
FOR LIFE AND HONOR.
A sudden, mad roar went up from the crowd on the station platform. Theyswayed, surged, struggled, and shouted:
"Lynch him!"
That cry was like the touching of a torch to dry prairie grass. Menclimbed on each others' shoulders; men fought to get nearer theprisoner, and the mob seemed to have gone mad in a moment.
"Lynch him!"
A hundred throats took up the shout, and it became one mighty roar forblood, the most appalling sound that can issue from human lips.
The face of the menaced boy was very pale, but he did not cower beforethat suddenly infuriated mob. He showed that he had nerve, for he stoodup and faced them boldly, helpless as he was.
Burchel Jones, the detective, looked as if he would give something toget away from that locality in a hurry.
A black scowl came to the face of Hank Kildare, and his hands dropped tohis hips, reappearing from beneath the tails of his coat with a brace ofheavy, long-barreled revolvers in their grasp. The muzzles of theweapons were thrust right into the faces of the men nearest, and thesheriff literally thundered:
"Git back thar, you critters, or by thunder, thar'll be dead meat roundhyar! You hyar me chirp!"
Lona Dawson, the banker's daughter, was badly frightened by the suddenoutbreak of the mob, and, with her older companion, she retreated intothe waiting-room of the station.
"Death to Black Harry!"
A man with strong lungs howled the words above all the uproar andcommotion.
"Bring the rope!" screamed another.
And then, as if by magic, a man struggled to the shoulders of thoseabout him, waved a rope in the air, and yelled:
"Hyar's ther necktie fer Black Harry!"
And then, once more, there was a roar, and a surge, and a struggle toget at the handcuffed boy.
"Stiddy!" sounded the voice of Hank Kildare. "Back! back! back! or, bythe eternal skies, I'll begin ter sling lead!"
But twenty hands seemed reaching to clutch the lad and drag him away.The sheriff saw that he would not be able to retain his prisoner if heremained where he was.
"Inter ther station, boy!" came from the giant sheriff's lips. "It's yeronly chance ter git clear o' this yar gang!"
"Howly shmoke!" cried a familiar voice just behind the handcuffed youth."Pwhat are they doin' wid yez, Frankie, me b'y?"
"Yes," quavered another voice, likewise familiar, "what is this crazymob trying to do? This is something appalling!"
"Barney! Professor!" cried the boy, joyously. "Now I can prove that I amwhat I claim to be!"
"I've got him!"
A big ruffian roared the words, as he fastened both hands upon themanacled lad, and tried to drag him into the midst of the swaying mob.
"Thin take thot, ye spalpane!" shouted the Irish boy, who had appearedin company with a little, red-whiskered man at the door of the station.
Out shot the hard fist of the young Irishman, and--smack!--it struck theman fairly in the left eye, knocking him backward into the arms of theone just behind him.
"It's toime ye got out av thot, me b'y," said Barney Mulloy, as hegrasped the imperiled youth by the collar, and drew him into thewaiting-room of the station.
"That's right, that's right!" fluttered the little man, who wasProfessor Scotch. "Let's hurry out by the back door, the way we came in.We were detained, so we did not arrive in time for the train, but wecame as quickly as we could."
"And arrived just in time," said Frank. "I am in a most appallingposition."
"Well, well!" fluttered the professor. "You can explain that later on.Let's get away from here."
"Look!"
Frank held up his hands, and, for the first time, his friends saw theirons on his wrists. They cried out in amazement.
"Pwhat th' ould b'y is th' m'anin' av thot?" demanded Barney Mulloy, inthe most profound astonishment.
"It means that I have been arrested; that's all."
"Pwhat fer?"
"Robbing, shooting, murdering."
"G'wan wid yez!"
"This is no time to joke, Frank," said Professor Scotch, reprovingly."Are you never able to restrain your propensity for making sport?"
"This is a sorry joke, professor. I am giving you the straight truth."
"But--but it is impossible--I declare it is!"
"It is the truth."
"Who arristed yez?" asked Barney, as if still doubtful that Frank reallymeant what he was saying.
"A private detective, known as Burchel Jones. He surrendered me to thesheriff of Canadian County, Hank Kildare. That's his voice you can hearabove the howling. He is trying to beat the mob back, so he can get meto the jail before I am lynched."
"Before you are lynched!" gurgled the little professor, in a dazed way."What have you done that they should want to lynch you?"
"Nothing."
"Pwhat do they think ye have done?" asked Barney.
"I presume you have heard of Black Harry?"
"Yes."
"Well, they say I am that very interesting young gentleman."
Small man though he was, Professor Scotch had a deep, hoarse voice, andhe now let out a roar of disgust that drowned the stentorian tones ofHank Kildare.
"This is the most outrageous thing I ever heard of!" fumed theprofessor, in a rage. "Somebody shall suffer for it! You Black Harry!Why, it is ridiculous!"
Barney Mulloy seemed to regard it as extremely funny, for he laughedoutright.
"Thot bates th' worruld!" he cried. "But it's dead aisy ye kin proveye're not Black Harry at all, at all!"
"I don't know about that. I have been identified."
"Pwhat's thot?"
"I have been recognized by a person who has seen Black Harry's face."
"Who is that fool person?" demanded Scotch, furiously. "Show me to him,and let me give him a piece of my mind!"
"There is the person."
Frank pointed straight at Lona Dawson, who was regarding him withhorrified eyes from a distant corner of the waiting-room.
"Thot girrul?"
"The young lady?"
"Yes."
"Who is she?"
"Miss Dawson, daughter of Robert Dawson, the banker, whom Black Harryshot during the train hold-up last night. Dawson tore the mask from theyoung robber's face, and she saw it. A few moments ago she declared thatI was the wretch who shot her father."
The girl heard his words, and she started forward, panting fiercely:
"You are! You are! I will swear to it with my dying breath! I saw yourface plainly last night, and I can never forget it. You are themurderous ruffian from whose face my father tore the mask!"
Professor Scotch was fairly staggered, but he quickly recovered, andswiftly said:
"My dear young lady, I assure you that you have made the greatestmistake of your life. I know this boy--I am his guardian. It is notpossible that he is Black Harry, for----"
"Were you with him last night?"
"No. We were----"
"Don't talk to me, then! Black Harry or not, he shot my father!"
"But--but--why, he would not do such a thing!"
"He did!"
It seemed that nothing could shake her belief.
"Av yez plaze, miss," said Barney, lifting his hat, and bowing politely,"it's thot same b'y Oi have known a long toime. Oi went ter school withthot lad, an' a whoiter b'y nivver drew a breath. He'd foight fer yetill he died, av he didn't git killed, an' it's nivver would he shootanybody at all, at all, onless it wur in silf-definse. Oi give ye mewurrud thot is th' truth, th' whole truth, an' nothing but th' truth."
The girl was unmoved.
"I have sworn to avenge my poor father!" she declared. "He shall notescape!"
"It is useless to talk here," said Frank. "She believes she is right,and her mind will not be changed till she sees the real Black Harry atmy side. It must be that the fellow is my double, and so my life will bein peril till he is captured, and meets his just deserts. From
this timeon for me it is a fight for life and honor."
Frank Merriwell's Bravery Page 4