Frank Merriwell's Bravery

by Standish, Burt L

  "Hold them off, and I will get away with her!"

  It was the Hermit.

  Out came a brace of revolvers in the hands of the weather-tanned guide, and the yells which broke from his lips awoke a hundred echoes. He began shooting to the right and left.

  Over the top of the rocks, behind which he had been concealed, Frank was sending a shower of bullets whistling. After the first two shots, he aimed high, counting on demoralizing the savages by terror, instead of taking chances of hitting Old Rocks or the child.

  The trick worked long enough for the guide to get away, and he followed close at the heels of the Hermit.

  By chance the man with the child passed near Frank, and then Old Rocks came along, shouting:

  "Up an' dig, boy! Ther trick is did!"

  In a moment Frank dashed after the old man.

  The Blackfeet recovered quickly, and they leaped in pursuit, uttering fierce cries.

  Old Rocks was surprised by Frank's fleetness on foot.

  "Derned ef you can't run, ez well ez do other things!" he muttered, as the lad forged along by his side. "You're a holy wonder, boy. It's twice you saved my life this day. I trusted everything ter you this last time, an' yer didn't fail me."

  "I broke the Indian's arm as he was on the point of striking."

  "Thet wuz ther only mistake yer made. You oughter broke his head, an' thar'd bin one less. They're arter us hot foot, an it's a race fer life now."

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXXIV.

  IN SAND CAVE.

  Behind them the enraged Blackfeet began shooting, and the bullets whistled over the heads of the fugitives.

  "I pray none of those hits little Fairy," panted Frank.

  "Ef we could strike some kind o' cover an' hed a minute to spar', we'd be able ter stan' ther varmints off," came from Old Rocks.

  "My rifle is empty."

  "I ain't got mine, an' I'll allow my small guns are empty; but I kin load 'em as we run."

  "We may have to fight anyhow."

  "Right, boy. Ef we do, dog my cats ef we don't make some o' them onery skunks gaul derned sick!"

  Still running, Old Rocks snapped the empty shells from his revolvers, and replaced them with fresh cartridges.

  At times it was not easy to keep track of the Hermit, who ran through the night with the speed of a deer and the tirelessness of a hound.

  Now and then the frightened child cried out, and this aided Frank and the old guide in following.

  Rocks soon replenished his revolvers, and said:

  "Thar, I kinder 'lows we kin make it interestin' fer them varmints ef they press us too hard. Dunno ez I kin find ther place whar I hid my rifle, but I reckons I oughter."

  "If we escape."

  "Ef we escape! Whut's ther matter with you, boy? Think we can't dodge them red whelps in ther dark?"

  "We might alone; but the man ahead of us may make no attempt to do so, and we must stand by him. It would not do to let the child fall into the hands of those wretches again. They would surely murder her."

  "They'd be likely ter, an' that's facts. Oh, we'll back up ther Hermit, an' thar won't be no trouble 'bout gittin' erway, 'less them varmints behind manages ter hit one o' us with a lead pill."

  The flight and pursuit continued, the Blackfeet seeming to have the eyes of owls or the scent of hounds. They pressed the fugitives hard, and Old Rocks feared that some of the flying bullets which whistled around them would find a mark.

  At length the guide gave an exclamation of satisfaction.

  "Reckon I knows whar ther Hermit is headin' fer," he said.

  "Where?" asked Frank.

  "Straight fer Sand Cave."

  "Where is Sand Cave?"

  "Not very fur ahead. Thar is some bowlders at ther mouth o' ther cave, and we oughter be able ter stand ther red niggers off thar."

  "Are you sure the Hermit is going there?"

  "I ain't sure, but it looks thet way. It ain't likely he kin keep up this pace much farther, an' kerry ther child."

  However, Old Rocks feared the man ahead might not be making for Sand Cave, and so he called to the Hermit, asking him if he knew where to find the cave. The Hermit replied that he did, and Rocks urged him to go there.

  "Git in with ther gal—git in out o' ther way o' bullets," advised the old guide. "Ther boy an' me will stand ther red dogs off all right."

  To this the Hermit agreed.

  A short time later, as they were rushing along the base of a bluff, the Hermit was seen to disappear.

  "Hyar's ther cave!" panted Old Rocks, catching hold of the boy. "Right yar behind these boulders. In with yer!"

  Frank saw the dark mouth of the cave behind the bowlders, over which he vaulted.

  The cry of the child came out of the darkness of the cave.

  The Hermit and little Fay were there.

  "Reddy!" hissed Old Rocks, crouching behind the bowlders—"reddy ter repel invaders!"

  The Blackfeet were coming on, and their dusky forms suddenly appeared near at hand in the darkness.

  On his knees behind a bowlder, Frank had drawn a revolver, and he began firing with Old Rocks.

  The flash of the weapons blinded the boy for the moment, and he stopped shooting when he had fired three times.

  Old Rocks stopped at the same moment, growling:

  "Thet's ther way with ther onery skunks! They'll never come up and be shot down ther way they oughter!"

  The Indians had disappeared.

  "Where are they?" asked Frank, wonderingly.

  "Right near yere, you kin bet yer dust," answered the guide. "They drapped down ther instant we begun slingin' lead, an' they're huggin' ther yearth, you bet!"

  "Did we kill any?"

  "Wa-al, I dunno; but I'll allow thet I didn't do any shootin' fer fun. I don't b'lieve in thet under such circumstances."

  "This affair may bring on an Indian war."

  "Let'er bring! It'll be er good thing ef it does, an' ther hull Injun nation is wiped out. But ther chances are thet it'll never be heard of by anybody except them we tell it to. Ther varmints will make tracks outer ther park, fer they're on forbidden ground."

  "If the soldiers should turn up——"

  "It'd be a mighty good thing fer us. Still, I kinder reckon we'll be able ter hold Half Hand an' his gang off till they git weary."

  They took care that their revolvers were replenished with cartridges, and then Frank loaded his rifle.

  A sudden silence seemed to brood over the whole world.

  Old Rocks stirred uneasily.

  "I don't like it," he muttered, speaking to himself.

  "Don't like what?" asked Frank, who felt a foreboding of some coming catastrophe.

  "This yare stillness. Why, thar ain't even an owl hootin'."

  "What do you think it means?"

  "Dunno; but it means somethin'. Keep yer eyes an' ears open, an' be ready fer what may come."

  Little Fay had ceased her sobbing, and the silence was finally broken by her voice:

  "Who's doin' to tate me to my mamma?"

  Then the Hermit was heard trying to comfort and reassure her.

  "Dog my cats ef I wouldn't like ter smoke!" muttered Old Rocks; "but I'll allow thet it w'u'dn't do ter light a match hyar."

  "No; it might be fatal. The light——"

  The sharp report of a rifle rang out, and Frank fell backward behind the bowlder.

  With a grated exclamation, Old Rocks flung up his revolver, and took a snap shot at the spot where he had seen the red flash of the weapon as it was discharged.

  "Did you get him?" asked Frank, as he sat up.

  "Dunno," was the answer; "but I wuz afeared he'd got you."

  "The bullet whistled so close to my head that I felt the wind of it. It must have penetrated the cave."

  To their ears came the sound of a deep groan, and then the voice of the Hermit reached them:

  "The bullet came in here. I am shot!"

  "Holy cats!" gasped Old Rocks.<
br />
  "The child!" panted Frank. "What if the red wretches fire again, and their bullets reach her? She must be placed where she will be safe."

  "Right."

  "Can you hold the mouth of the cave?"

  "I kin try it."

  "I will go in there and see how badly the Hermit is injured, and will see if both cannot be placed beyond the reach of bullets."

  "Thet's easy. Ther cave is a big one, but this hyar is ther only entrance ter it."

  Frank crept back into the cave, softly calling to the Hermit. The man was groaning, and, as Frank crept near, a pair of soft arms suddenly closed about the boy's neck, while a sweet voice sounded in his ear:

  "I knows you w'en I hears you speak. You singed me to sleep. I tolt you I'd be your Fairy."

  "So you did, dear," said the boy, giving her a tender embrace; "and I have done my best in the work of saving you from the Indians."

  "Bad Injuns!" exclaimed Fay. "Dey tarry me off fwom my mamma. You tate me to my mamma?"

  "We will, dear."

  Frank's hands found the wounded man, and he asked:

  "Where did the bullet strike you, Hermit?"

  "Here in the side," was the faint answer. "I think I am done for! I have found death at last!"

  The boy shivered, for the words were uttered exultantly, as if the man actually rejoiced.

  "Are you able to creep back farther into the cave?" Frank asked.

  "I don't know. Why should I do so? It is too much exertion."

  "If not for your own sake, you should do so for the child. Another bullet may reach her."

  The man stirred and sat up.

  "That is true," he panted. "She must be returned uninjured, and Foster Fairfax must know that I did my best to save her."

  "Foster Fairfax! He is the man you saw this morning?"

  "Yes."

  "What is he to this child?"

  "He is her father."

  "And you—what are you to her?"

  "Nothing."

  Frank was somewhat dazed, for he had felt sure that the Hermit was Fay's father.

  "We were friends," explained the wounded man. "I can't tell all the story. We both loved Marian Dale. Our rivalry was fair and square, and we swore that the one who won her should still retain the friendship of the other. At last, she promised to be mine at the end of six months. Business took me into the Southwest, and there I met Fairfax, who had rushed away as soon as he learned of my success. He was somewhat bitter toward me, and accused me of using unfair means to win Marian. We parted, and the very next day I was in a railroad collision, being injured about the head, so I did not know my own name. I recovered, but I was still unable to tell my name or remember anything of my past. In this condition, I wandered over the country four years. I was able to make a living, and seemed all right, with the exception that I could not remember anything back of the accident. One night in Omaha I was in a hotel fire, and I jumped from the window to escape. They took me up in an unconscious condition, and carried me to a hospital. I recovered, and my memory came back to me. Then I hurried East to Marian, and I found her married to Foster Fairfax, who had told her that I was dead, and that he had seen my dead body. This little girl is their child."

  "While you are talking, you are losing blood," said Frank. "Move back, and let me see if I cannot stop the flow."

  He induced the Hermit to move back into the cave, where he was able to light some matches and examine the wound. Not being a physician, Frank could not tell how severe it was; but, with considerable difficulty, he finally succeeded in stanching the flow of blood to a certain extent.

  "It is useless," declared the Hermit. "I am booked, and I am glad of that. I have nothing to live for."

  "Yes, you has!" cried little Fay, creeping close to him. "I dess you is pretty dood man. One time I had a birdie that die, and it was all tovered up in the dround. You don't want to be all tovered up like dat. I don't want you to be."

  "God bless you!" murmured the Hermit, thickly. "You are a dear, sweet child, and I shall not live to make more trouble for your father and mother."

  All was quiet at the mouth of the cave. Frank was longing to hear more of the Hermit's story, and so he questioned the man.

  "How does it happen that Foster Fairfax and his wife are not living together?"

  "I separated them."

  "How?"

  "I appeared like one risen from the dead, and Marian was prostrated by the sight of me. I denounced Foster, called him a false friend and a dastardly traitor. I was insane at the moment, and it is remarkable that I did not kill him. However, I swore to have his life if we ever met again. Then I left them."

  "And you did not see Fairfax again till you met him here in the park?"

  "No."

  "How did it happen he left his wife?"

  "When I met him I did not know they were not living together. He forced me to listen, and he told me how he had taken a mangled corpse from the wreck and buried it as me—how he had firmly believed me dead. Then he bore the news to Marian, and she was prostrated.

  "He loved her, but it was long before she consented to marry him. At last, she did so, and they married, both believing me in my grave."

  Frank was fascinated by the story.

  "Go on," he urged.

  "When I appeared both were horrified. When I left them, Marian accused Foster of treachery. She was unreasonable and would listen to nothing he could say. She bade him leave her and never return. He departed, and they have not seen each other since. He does not know she is somewhere in the park, as she must be, else the child would not be here. I did not tell him of the peril of his child, but I resolved to save her and restore her to his arms. I have saved her, but I shall be unable to take her to him. I shall not live to see the light of another day."

  "Oh, you may not be so badly injured as all that."

  "I am. I am sure of it. I will leave the child in your care. Take her to him, and tell him that I forgive everything. Never again will I rise like one from the dead to come between Foster and Marian."

  Frank remained with the man a while longer, and then, telling Fay to stay there that she might keep beyond the reach of bullets, he returned to the mouth of the cave.

  "I'm glad ye've come, boy," said Old Rocks. "Ef them pesky varmints ain't gone away entirely, they're up ter mischief, an' I needs yer hyar."

  They crouched behind the bowlders and waited, while the minutes slipped away, and the same silence reigned.

  At least an hour passed, and then came a sudden sound that filled both with surprise and alarm.

  Behind them there was a faint dropping in the cave, a movement, a rush, and a roar. Then a cloud of dust swirled out and nearly smothered them.

  "What is the meaning of that?" said Frank, bewildered.

  "A cave-in!" shouted Old Rocks, making a hasty examination. "By ther livin' gods! ther hull derned cave is blocked, an' ther Hermit an' ther leetle gal is both buried beneath ur beyond thet fall!"

  Frank was horrified beyond measure.

  "It is terrible!" he gasped. "Poor little Fay!"

  "What you want?" asked the familiar voice of the child, near at hand. "It was lonetome in dere. The mans goed to sleep, an' I tomed out to see you."

  "Thank God!" came fervently from Frank's lips, as he caught her up in his arms and covered her face with kisses.

  "Wa-al, thet's whut I call luck!" gurgled the guide.

  "Luck!" cried Frank, rebukingly. "It was the hand of Providence! Can you doubt the wisdom and goodness of an Overruling Power after this?"

  "Dunno ez I kin," admitted the old man. "It duz look like something a' ther kind took her out o' thar jest at ther right time."

  A complete examination showed that the whole roof of the cave had apparently fallen in, and the passage was blocked with tons upon tons of earth and sand.

  "This yar's ther end o' Sand Cave," said Old Rocks.

  They kept the child with them and waited behind the rocks for the attack of the Blackfe
et, but no attack came. Thus the long night passed, and another day came round.

  Then it was found that the Indians had departed.

  "They didn't dar' stay hayer longer," said Old Rocks. "Ther whelps wuz afeared o' ther soldiers. I'd like ter run onter ther soldiers an' set 'em arter Half Hand an' ther gang."

  Led by the guide, they left the spot. Frank carried Fay in his arms.

  Old Rocks first proceeded to the spot where he had hidden his rifle, and, with that again in his possession, he expressed himself as feeling ready to "chaw up ther hull Blackfeet tribe."

  They found some game for breakfast and dinner, and before nightfall they reached the camp on the shore of the lake, where Preston March and Foster Fairfax had met.

  A large party of tourists had gathered there, and the appearance of the man and boy, the latter bearing Fay in his arms, created the greatest excitement. Several persons rushed into the tent and drew forth a man and woman, the latter white and grief-stricken, and pointed out the child, who was sitting on Frank's shoulder and waving her hand, as she laughingly called:

  "I dess my mamma is dere! I knowed you'd tate me bat to my mamma!"

  The man and woman were Foster Fairfax and his wife, who had met by accident there in the Wonderland of America. She had told him how little Fay had wandered away and become lost, and both had feared that they would never see their child again.

  Their unutterable joy cannot be depicted in words. Frank and Old Rocks were the heroes of the occasion.

  "Yer don't want ter give me too much credit fer this yar," said the guide. "I done ther trailin', but this yar tenderfut saved me frum bein' killed twice, an' he's got nerves o' steel. It ain't often I take ter a tenderfut, but I will allow thet this yar chap is a boy ter tie to. Ther babby sticks by him; he has won her heart. Dog my cats ef I blame her either!"

  Then the old man told how Frank had saved him from the grizzly, how the boy had been tireless on the trail, how he had not murmured at any hardship, and how he had broken the arm of the Blackfoot Indian who was about to brain the guide.

  As a result, Frank found himself regarded with unspeakable admiration by all the tourists, while Foster Fairfax and his wife could not say or do enough to express their feelings.