* * *
CHAPTER X.
IN CADE'S CANYON.
The moon had swung far down to the west when the outlaws entered Cade's Canyon amid the mountains and finally reached an old hut, where they halted.
"You must be rather pegged, chief," said one of the men, addressing Frank.
"Well, I am not feeling too frisky," said the boy. "I didn't sleep much in Elreno jail, for I wanted to be wideawake when the lynchers came."
The men had removed their masks, but their faces were shaded by wide-brimmed hats, and Frank was not able to study their features. However, he had heard the voices of several, and he felt sure he would not forget them.
He was not going to be in a hurry about escaping. There was plenty of time, and he was beginning to believe that he must be the perfect double of Black Harry, else why should these men be thus deceived?
He wondered if none of them would detect the difference when daylight came.
"If they do—well, I can't be worse off than I was in Elreno jail. I'll have weapons, and I can fight. I may be able to make it hot for them before they down me."
Frank was reckless, and he felt a strange delight in the adventure through which he was passing. Somehow, now that he had escaped being lynched, he believed he would be successful in bringing Black Harry to book and proving his own innocence.
Frank's first care was to obtain some revolvers, and he was soon in possession of a pair of fine weapons. With these loaded and ready to his hand, he breathed easier.
Of course he had no idea of sleeping, but he entered the hut and looked the place over.
Morning was not far away, and the time soon passed, while Frank pretended to sleep. At daybreak he was astir, and looking the place over.
The cabin was built in a strange spot, standing close to the verge of a chasm that opened down into the lower depths of the canyon, through which ran a stream of water.
Dan Cade, the man who had built the cabin there, was said to have been crazy. He had lived there years before the opening of Oklahoma to settlement, and had died there in that wild gorge. His only friends were the Indians, as he hated and mistrusted his own race.
It had often been remarked by those who passed through the canyon that no man in his right mind would have built a cabin in such a place. It looked as if the building was crouching on the verge of the chasm, preparing to spring headlong into the creek below.
Here the outlaws had camped.
Frank found a flight of stairs that led to the cabin loft. They were shaky, but he ascended to investigate.
There was a square door, shaped like a window, at the back end of the cabin, and this the boy opened. He thrust his head out, and found he was looking down the face of the bluff straight into the stream far below.
The light that shone into the loft revealed, to the boy's surprise and wonder, a coil of rope. He examined this, and found a stout clasp-hook at one end. The other end of the rope was made fast to a rafter.
For some time Frank wondered to what use old Cade had put the rope, but it came to him at last.
"With this he drew his water from the stream down there."
This seemed evident, as there was no other apparent means of procuring water.
The outlaws slept heavily, apparently fatigued by their exertions of the night. They had left sentinels in both directions, up and down the canyon, so that they could not be taken by surprise should they be followed by enemies.
The sun had not risen when Frank went forth into the morning air.
The horses were tethered near the cabin, and a half-blood Indian was watching them. As Frank approached, the half-blood peered out from beneath the blanket, which was drawn up over his head. The boy saw the fellow's beady eyes regarding him, and then the blanket was drawn closer, indicating that the Indian was satisfied.
Once more Frank thought that he must be the perfect counterpart of Black Harry, else he would arouse the suspicion of the fellow who owned those eyes.
Frank believed it would be an easy thing to mount one of the horses and ride away, as if he was going a short distance. He believed he could do so without being challenged or questioned, and the desire to attempt it was almost ungovernable.
Then came another thought.
Where could he go?
Surely he could not return to Elreno, for, now that he had been carried away by Black Harry's Braves, he was branded in that town as the youthful outlaw beyond the shadow of a doubt.
He did not know which way to turn, and the thought that his situation was most remarkable forced itself upon him. If he remained among the outlaws, they were liable to discover how they had been fooled, and that would make them furious. If he escaped and hastened to any of the nearby towns, it was pretty certain that he would be taken for Black Harry and lynched.
"This is a real jolly scrape!" thought the boy, ruefully. "What can I do?"
Well might he ask himself the question.
He walked a short distance down the canyon, and thought it over. The impulse was on him to get away as soon as possible, but his sober judgment told him that he would leap from the frying-pan into the fire.
Frank did not care to be lynched. He seemed helpless for the time. Although he longed to fight for his honor, he was unable to strike a blow.
The result of his walk was a determination to stay with the outlaws and keep up the deception as long as he could.
Black Harry himself must appear sooner or later, and Frank longed to see the young rascal whom he so much resembled.
Most boys would have improved the opportunity to get away, but Frank was not built of ordinary material, and it was like him to do the unexpected.
He strolled back to the cabin, seeming quite at his ease.
It was not far from sunrise, and the men began to stir. Several of them came out of the hut, and a fire was built.
Of a sudden, from far up the canyon, came the musical blast of a bugle, causing the outlaws to start and look at each other in surprise.
They listened, and it was repeated.
One of the men turned sharply on Frank, hoarsely crying:
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know," replied the boy, at the same time feeling for his revolvers, with the idea that there was trouble on hand.
"It is your signal!" burst from the man's lips. "And that means trickery! There is something wrong!"
"You're right!" cried several voices.
More of the braves came running out of the cabin, there was a hustling for arms, and the men prepared for trouble.
"My signal?" repeated Frank, to himself. "By that he must mean it is the signal of Black Harry! He is coming!"
Frank felt the blood tingling in his veins.
Black Harry was coming!
"Now," muttered Frank, "I shall have a chance to strike a blow for myself! Let Black Harry come on!"
* * *
CHAPTER XI.
BLACK HARRY APPEARS.
There was a clatter of hoofs, and a doubly burdened horse swept into view, bearing straight down upon the Braves, who were waiting as if ready to fight or take to flight.
The horse was foam-flecked, and it was plain he had been driven to the limit of his endurance.
The person who handled the reins was a youthful chap, and, as he came nearer, Frank gasped with surprise.
"Cholly Grayson De Smythe, the dude! Is it possible?"
In his arms, held upon the horse, was a bundle, like a human form, wrapped in a blanket.
The outlaws looked for a posse of armed men to follow the boyish horseman, but he was not followed, and he did not hesitate or turn back when he saw the party awaiting him.
Straight down upon them he rode, and Frank drew aside, shielding himself behind one of the men.
"It can't be possible!" muttered Frank. "It's ridiculous!"
Straight down upon the desperadoes rode the dude, seeming utterly fearless.
"Halt, thar!" cried one of the men, leveling a rifle at t
he young horseman. "Hold up, ur chaw lead!"
The youth gave a surge that flung the horse upon its haunches.
"Steady Bolivar!" his voice rang out. "Would you shoot me?"
"Who be you?"
"Don't you know me? Ha, ha, ha! Well, I do not wonder. I'll look different when I peel this mustache and wash off my make-up. I have her! See here, boys!"
The blanket was flung back, and the face of Lona Dawson, the banker's daughter, was revealed!
The girl was not unconscious, and she suddenly squirmed from the grasp of her captor, slipped from the horse, and ran into the midst of the outlaws, crying:
"Save me! Protect me!"
"Stop her, boys!" laughed the youth on the horse. "Don't let her get away. I've had trouble enough, and taken risk enough to get her."
"Wa-al, who be you?" roared one of the band.
"Who am I? Look here; do you know this sign?"
He made a swift motion with his hand, and nearly every man cried:
"The chief's sign! But you are not the chief! He is here with us! You are an impostor!"
"Am I? Look!"
He tore off a false wig, jerked away a false mustache, took a vial from his pocket, turned some of its contents in his hand, and seemed to sweep the make-up from his face.
The result was a wonderful transformation, and the face revealed was almost exactly like that of Frank Merriwell.
The men stared in bewildered astonishment.
"It is the chief!" gurgled one of them.
"Of course I am," laughed the unmasked youth. "You wasted your time in carrying off that other fellow who looks like me. Why didn't you leave him to be lynched? Then the fools would have thought they had put Black Harry out of the way."
"The other fellow?" repeated more than one of the men. "Who is the other fellow?"
"He is the fellow who looks like me," laughed Black Harry, for the new arrival was the boy chief of the marauders.
In the meantime, while this unmasking was taking place Frank had not been idle. He had longed to meet Black Harry face to face, but now he realized that his situation was perilous in the extreme. He must act at once.
But the sight of the captive girl and her appeal for aid had bestirred all the chivalry of his nature. He longed to do something to save her.
Swiftly moving near her, he suddenly caught her up, swung her over his shoulder, and, with her held thus, regardless of the shriek of terror that broke from her lips, he dashed straight for the open door of the hut.
Cries of amazement broke from the lips of the outlaws.
"There he goes!" shouted Black Harry. "That is the fellow who looks like me, and he has the girl! After him!"
The men leaped in pursuit.
Into the hut bounded Frank, and the door went to with a slam. The foremost man, who flung himself against it, found it had been fastened.
"Well, we have him fast," said Black Harry, easily. "He can't get away in a thousand years. We'll dig him out at our convenience."
The men now gathered round their boy chief, eager to hear his explanation. It was difficult for them to realize that they had been deceived—that the boy they rescued from the lynchers at Elreno jail was not their leader.
"I was not fool enough to go into Elreno without disguising myself," said Harry. "I knew I should be recognized if I did. I fixed myself up in the outfit I just threw off, and, with this English tourist rig and a sissy lisp, I succeeded in deceiving everybody.
"You may imagine how surprised I was when I saw this other fellow, who is nearly my perfect double. He took the train at Oklahoma City, and I sat directly behind him. I was there when the private detective, Burchel Jones, who fancies he is so shrewd, arrested him.
"If they had lynched him, I could have disappeared, and it would have been thought that Black Harry had gone up the flume. But you fellows thought that I was in the scrape, and you came round in time to save him.
"I watched my opportunity to scoop the girl, and I have brought her here, although I was hotly pursued for a time, and I did not know but I'd have to drop her and get away alone. I succeeded in fooling the pursuers, and I arrived here at last.
"My double and the girl for whom I have risked so much are in that hut. I propose to break down the door and go in."
A wild shout came from the men. They were furious to think they had been so wonderfully deceived.
"Down with the door!"
"Drag him out!"
"Shoot him!"
With a hoarse roar of rage the Braves rushed toward the cabin, and flung themselves against the door, which went down with a crash, letting them into the hut.
* * *
CHAPTER XII.
A CHANCE IN A THOUSAND.
Frank, with his usual daring and gallantry, had resolved to make an effort to save the unfortunate girl—to rescue her from the clutch of Black Harry.
Having determined on such an attempt, he lost no time in catching her up and dashing into the hut with her in his arms.
Dropping her upon her feet, he whirled, slammed the door shut, found the wooden bar with which old Cade had made it fast, dropped the bar into its socket, and cried:
"Hurrah for us! This is the first step to freedom!"
Turning, he found the girl was leaning against the wall, staring at him in a wondering way, but without fear being expressed on her handsome face.
"I trust you are quite unharmed, Miss Dawson?" he said, swiftly. "My unsavory double has——"
"He has not harmed me," she broke in, swiftly, "but I feel that I have done you a harm I can never repair."
"Nonsense! How have you harmed me?"
"By declaring that you were the one who shot my father."
"You believed it when you said so, and that——"
"Yes, I believed it, but that is nothing that will lessen the injury I did you. And to think of the terrible peril in which I placed you! Then, when it was reported that father was dead, they were determined to lynch you."
"And your father is not dead?"
"He was not when I last saw him, and the doctor said he might come out all right."
"That is indeed fortunate."
"I heard them crying that he was dead, I saw them preparing to make an assault on the jail, and I left father's side to stop them if I could."
"Brave girl!"
"Then it was that I fell into the hands of this wretch who brought me here—the real Black Harry. He was waiting for an opportunity to capture me—he told me so. He told me how I had imperiled the life of one who was innocent, and he laughed at my horror and remorse. He is a heartless creature!"
"He seems to be all of that."
"And you have placed your life in greater peril for me—you did so after what I did to you! Why should you do such a thing?"
"Why, Miss Dawson, you were not to blame for thinking me Black Harry. The fellow is my double, and I ought not to have a double. Do you suppose I would think of leaving you in his power if there was any possible way for me to save you?"
"You are a noble fellow! But you cannot save me—you cannot escape yourself! They will soon break in here, and then——"
Frank was listening at the door, and he heard Black Harry complete his explanation to his Braves, heard their wild cries, and knew they were going to charge on the door.
"It will not stand before them!"
He looked around and saw the stairs.
"Up!" he cried to the girl. "Don't lose a moment!"
He motioned toward the stairs, and she ran toward them, hearing the roar that came from the outlaws as they made the rush for the cabin.
"Come!" she panted, looking over her shoulder, and seeing Frank with a revolver in either hand. "Don't stay there! They will kill you!"
"Up!" he shouted again. "I will follow!"
She sprang up the stairs, which creaked and swayed beneath her.
There was a great shock, and the cabin seemed to totter on the brink of the chasm. Then the door fell, and the ruffians swa
rmed into the cabin.
Frank Merriwell was right behind the girl, and he seemed to lift her and fling her into the loft.
"There they go!" rang the voice of the real Black Harry. "Up the stairs!"
"This is no time for talk!" cried Frank, as he crouched at the head of the flight, his teeth set, and the light of desperation in his eyes.
The braves came rushing up the stairs, and the boy above thrust out both hands, each of which held a revolver.
Frank fired four shots, and the smoke shut out the faces of the fierce rascals on the stairs. He heard cries of pain and the sound of falling bodies.
"I didn't waste my bullets," came grimly from his lips.
But what could he do now? He had repulsed them for the time, but they were in the cabin, and it would not be for long that he could keep them back. They would soon find a way to reach him.
He leaped to the swinging window and flung it open, thrusting the revolvers lightly into the side pockets of the coat he wore. He looked down into the depths of the chasm, through which ran the stream of water.
"It is a long distance down there," came hoarsely from the lad's lips. "I will try it! It is our last hope."
With a bound, he caught up the coil of rope, then he rushed to the window and flung it out. As one end was made fast to a rafter, it hung dangling from the window.
Frank looked out, and he saw that the rope reached to the stream of water.
At the same time, he heard Black Harry calling on his braves to follow him up the stairs.
"Come!" said Frank, hurrying to the side of the girl, and grasping her arm. "There is one chance in a thousand that we may do the trick and escape alive. We'll make a try for that chance."
She did not question him, she did not hold back, but she bravely trusted everything to his judgment.
Frank passed through the window in advance. He twisted the rope around one leg, and he secured a good hold on it with his hands. Then he said to the girl:
"Be lively now! Get through the window, put your arms about my neck, cling for your life, and trust to Frank Merriwell and Providence."
She did so, and they were soon descending the rope.
Frank Merriwell's Bravery Page 6