"Come away from here," said Frank. "Where can we obtain something to eat? We can talk it over——"
"Hold on, Frank. I believe those people are going to take the next train south, which leaves immediately."
"That is right. Miss Isban is on her way to Carson."
"Then I shall take that train."
Frank looked his friend over from head to foot.
"Say," he chuckled, "you are hard hit! I will confess that I was a bit stuck on the girl, but I did not have it this way."
"She is in trouble," asserted Bart. "I mean to be on hand to help her, if she needs assistance."
"All right; we'll take the next train south."
* * *
CHAPTER XXXVII.
BOY SHADOWERS.
And so they took the next train for Carson City.
Isa Isban and her companion of the dark mustache were on the same train, as they learned without difficulty.
The girl and the man were in the same car with the boys, but neither of them seemed to pay the least attention to the latter.
"Look here, Frank," said Bart, "tell me how you happened to get acquainted with her."
Frank did so, and Bart's face clouded as he listened.
"I know you are great at catching on with the girls," Bart observed; "but I swear I did not believe Vida Melburn was the sort to take up with a chance acquaintance, under any circumstances."
Frank laughed.
"Now, you are jealous, old man," he said. "It came about naturally enough, and she acted like a lady."
"But not like the Vida Melburn I know."
"I do not believe she is the Vida Melburn you know. You have been deceived by a resemblance, my boy."
Bart shook his head.
"Not much! Don't take me for a fool, Frank! I am not such a dunderhead as that—oh, no!"
"Then she lied to one of us."
Bart's face lighted a bit.
"Possibly she did not care to give you her right name, having made your acquaintance in such a manner. That must be the real explanation."
"Look here, Bart, that girl is too unsophisticated, too innocent to work that kind of a game. She has the most innocent face I ever saw."
"You are right," the dark-haired lad confessed, "Vida would not be likely to do such a thing. She is frank and open as the day."
"Well, what do you make of it?"
"I don't know what to make of it."
"Tell me how you came to know her."
"She was visiting at Fardale, and I became acquainted with her. She liked me and—I liked her. We were together a great deal. She did not tell me much about herself, but, still, I learned a few things. Her home is in Sacramento, but she has relatives in Carson City. I found out that there had been trouble between her father and mother, and they had separated. That is how her father happened to send her East. Her relatives at Fardale did not regard me with favor for some reason, and they ordered me to have nothing more to say to her. Still, we met occasionally, and—to tell the truth, old boy—I fell in love with her. They found out we were seeing each other secretly, and they made a rumpus about it. Then they wrote to her father, and they sent for her to return to the West. She was shipped off in a hurry, so we would see no more of each other; but she wrote me a short note, telling me to address her at Austin, Nevada. I did so, and, as I happen to have a rich old uncle in California, I proposed to come out here. She answered, saying she would be in Reno just three days ago, and for me to meet her at the railway station, if possible. It looked impossible then, but I was hard hit, and I made a big hustle to get away from school and come out here. I worked all kinds of schemes on the governor, and he finally agreed to let me come West to visit Uncle Hiram. I came, and I was in Reno on the date set, but she did not appear. I have been there every day since, and to-day she came. You know the rest."
Frank regarded his friend steadfastly for some moments, smiling covertly.
"You are a queer fellow, Bart," he said. "You go to extremes in everything. Now, stop and think of chasing away out here after a girl. It is——"
Bart interrupted him with a sharp gesture.
"Oh, I know—I don't deny that I am a fool! At the same time I can't help it. I never saw a girl before this one that I cared a snap for. She seems to be my affinity."
Frank's laugh rang out merrily.
"Affinity is good!" he exclaimed. "You are hard hit. And the girl threw you down when you appeared on the scene. What do you make of that?"
Bart scowled.
"I am sure of one thing."
"And that is—what?"
"She is in trouble."
"Who is the man with her?"
"That is what I'd like to know. I am sure she fears him. She must have seen him, and she must have feared to recognize me. There can be no other explanation."
"He is not her father, is he?"
"That creature the father of that girl? Well, not much!"
"No, he is not. If I remember right, she called him Paul. Can he be her brother?"
"Never!"
"Then, what is he?"
"You tell."
"I can't."
"More than ever am I sure she is in trouble—great trouble. I am determined to know the truth. I will learn it from her own lips."
"How?"
"By following her till I get an opportunity to speak with her."
"Well, Bart, you are so badly struck that all I can do is hang by you and see you through. We will solve the mystery of this girl, if we are capable of doing so."
"Right you are, Frank."
Then they spoke of other matters, old friends at Fardale, and how things were moving there. Bart told all about the events that had taken place at the academy since Frank left, how they had missed him as a leader in sports of all kinds, how often he was spoken of with admiration and affection by his old comrades, and how even the professors held him up as a model to be emulated.
"They seem to have forgotten the pranks you were up to and the larks you were in," said Bart; "but they remember that you stood at the head in everything you undertook."
Then Frank told of his own adventures in knocking about, and Bart regarded him with still greater admiration.
"You are the luckiest fellow alive!" declared the dark-haired lad. "I wish I had a rich and eccentric old uncle to kick the bucket and leave me a big fortune on condition that I would 'travel over the world to advance my education and broaden my ideas.' Say, that uncle of yours was a good thing!"
"Uncle Asher was original in everything."
"I should guess yes. When are you going abroad?"
"Very soon. Professor Scotch will make arrangements for such a move while he is in the East."
"You are the envy of Fardale. Hans Dunnerwust returned with a stock of tales of astounding adventures, which he managed to bungle badly in the telling. And now I suppose Barney Mulloy will take his turn. Between them they will make you out one of the most remarkable heroes of modern times."
Thus the boys chatted till Carson City was reached.
All the while Bart was watching the girl closely, and he saw that she really intended to get off at Carson.
The boys slipped out of the car, and were on the platform as soon as the pair they were following reached it. It happened that the station platform was crowded, and they were swallowed by the throng, so they found it easy to keep out of sight of the man and girl.
The man seemed to watch to see if the boys left the car, while the girl tried to draw him away. After some moments he submitted, and they entered a closed carriage.
"Here!" exclaimed Frank, catching hold of a sleepy driver and giving him a whirl; "see that carriage?"
"Yep."
"Don't lose sight of it for a moment, but do not seem to follow it. Understand?"
"I reckon."
"Good! If you do the trick well, you get a tenner."
"Got it?"
"See."
Frank showed his roll, on the outside of which were
the bright new fifty-dollar bills.
"Get in."
The boys sprang in lively, the door closed on them, the driver leaped to his seat, the whip cracked, and away they went.
"This is the first time I ever played the detective," said Bart.
"But it is not the first time for me," declared Frank. "I have found it necessary, several times, in New York, Chicago, New Orleans and elsewhere."
"I noticed how ready you were to do the proper thing. You did not give them the start."
"Not a bit of it."
"You are the same old, self-reliant, hustling, go-ahead Frank Merriwell. The only changes I can see in you are for the better."
"Thank you."
The driver in advance was a hustling fellow, and he had two good horses. He sent them right along. Now, it was fortunate that, although, the driver behind was a sleepyhead, he, also, had some fine horses, and he did not make any great effort to keep them at a clipping pace.
It is probable that the man with the black mustache regarded the boys with no little contempt, for he surely made no effort to give them the slip. It is likely he did not fancy they would follow him so hotly.
At length the carriage in advance stopped before a certain house, and the driver got down to open the door.
The driver who was carrying the boys continued past, turned the first corner, stopped short, jumped down, opened the door, and said:
"Got 'em? They're just round the corner back yon."
"And you have earned your X," said Frank, springing out.
* * *
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
"QUEER" MONEY.
"This is counterfeit!"
It was in the First National Bank of Carson, between nine and ten o'clock of the day following Frank's arrival in the city.
Frank had found it difficult to get either of the new fifty-dollar bills changed, and so he stepped into the bank and asked if he could be favored there.
The bill had been scrutinized closely, the cashier had examined it beneath a magnifying glass, after which he questioned the boy concerning his manner of obtaining the paper, and Frank had told the truth fully and without hesitation. Then the boy had been called into a private room, and the cashier had declared the bill counterfeit.
Frank had been prepared for such an assertion by what went before it, and he immediately opened his pocketbook and produced the other bill which he had received of Isa Isban.
"Please look at this, and see if it is also counterfeit," he asked, with remarkable coolness.
In a moment the cashier said:
"It is a mate for the first one. Both are 'queer.' My boy, this is bad stuff to be carrying around. It is liable to bring you into no end of trouble."
As he said this he was regarding Frank's face with a searching stare, as if seeking to discover if the lad were honest or crooked.
Frank knew he was under suspicion, and he bore himself as quietly as possible.
"This is the first intimation I have received that the bills are bad," declared the lad. "I received them as I have explained, and I have tried in several places, this morning, to get one of them broken, but did not succeed. I finally came here."
The cashier's brows lowered. He partially closed his eyes, and regarded the boy steadily. Then he began once more to ask questions.
Frank knew he was in an unfortunate situation, and he decided the best thing he could do was to answer every question truthfully, which he did.
It happened there was not much business going on in the bank. The paying teller and the receiving teller listened to the questions and answers. The receiving teller was a young man, and his face wore a sneering look of incredulity. He regarded Frank with open doubt, and, once or twice, muttered, "Ridiculous!" "Nonsense!" "A clever lie!" or something of the sort.
The face of the paying teller was calm and unexpressive. It seemed that he had not determined in his own mind if the boy were telling the truth. He was listening to hear everything before he decided.
Frank explained how he came to be in Carson City, having given his name, age, his guardian's name, told where his home was, and answered more than a score of other questions.
The sneers of the receiving teller angered the boy; but he held his feelings in check, and did not seem to hear the man when he proposed that Merriwell be handed over to the special policeman in front of the bank.
"Mr. Merriwell," said the cashier, "I shall have to take possession of these bills."
"Why is that?"
"It is my duty. I have such instructions. You are getting off easy at that."
"But I shall not recover my hundred dollars."
"No; that is lost. Let me tell you something: There is a band of queer-makers somewhere in this vicinity. They do not attempt to run their stuff into circulation around here; the most of it is put out in Chicago. But they have been traced to this part of the country. Detectives are at work on the case—Secret Service men, in the employ of the government. Who these detectives are no one can say, although it has been reported that Dan Drake is in it. Up to this time they have been putting out tens and twenties. This fifty must be a new bit of work. And I have something more to tell you. It is said that the queen of this gang of counterfeiters is a beautiful young girl, who does not look to be more than seventeen years of age. It is possible——"
But he made a gesture of anger, because such a thing should be thought for a moment.
"It is not possible!" he said, sharply. "She is innocent of such a thing as that! You cannot make me believe——"
He stopped, noting that the look of scorn on the face of the receiving teller was deepening. Then, slowly and surely, the thought that the girl had deceived him, that she was not as innocent as she looked, came upon him. The mystery that surrounded her deepened, and a sudden longing to know the truth grasped him.
The receiving teller laughed shortly, as he saw the changes which flitted across the lad's face.
"There's guilt for you!" he muttered.
Frank stiffened up, giving the man a cutting look.
"What became of this girl for whom you changed two fifty-dollar bills?" asked the cashier.
"I do not remember what became of her," declared Frank. "She was a passenger on the Pacific Express. I left the express at Reno."
"And she went on? Bound for 'Frisco, it is likely."
Frank had not said she went on. He explained that he met a friend at Reno, and that was how he happened to leave the express; that friend was coming to Carson, and that was how he happened to come to Carson.
He did not tell that they had followed the girl to Carson, had shadowed her to the house where she had stopped, and that his companion or himself had watched that house constantly, ever since.
"Bart is watching it now," he told himself. "She can't get away. She must explain to me how that bogus money came into her possession. I believe I know! The man with the black mustache must have given it to her!"
That the man with the sinister mustache was a villain he did not doubt, but he still doubted that the girl was anything but what she seemed—young, innocent, incapable of crime.
The cashier spoke a low word to one of his companions, and a sudden fear came upon Frank. Was the man ordering his arrest? He could not afford to be detained and bothered at that time. How would he solve the mystery if they placed him under arrest?
But Frank had nerve, and he would not take to his heels, knowing such an act would make it seem certain that he was guilty.
The receiving teller spoke sharply to the cashier, seemingly urging him to some action; but the boy heard the cashier reply:
"It will spoil the whole thing to be too hasty."
"The boy can be made to peach on the gang," said the teller, in a guarded tone.
"That's folly!" declared the cashier, shortly. "The boy is not connected with the gang. Think they would send him here—to a bank—if he were! Have a little sense, Burton!"
The teller mumbled, looking sullen and rebuffed, while Fra
nk felt relieved.
Then the cashier once more questioned Frank, as a lawyer might question a witness. He tried, in various ways, to entrap the boy, but Frank made no blunders.
After a time, the cashier seemed satisfied.
"I am sorry for you," he said. "You have lost a hundred dollars, but you are fortunate to escape arrest and imprisonment."
"I suppose I am," admitted Frank; "and I will tell you something, now; I propose to solve the mystery of this money. I am going to find that girl, I am going to find out how she came to have the bogus stuff, and I am going to bring this band of queer-makers to book, if possible."
The receiving teller laughed scornfully.
"A fine bluff!" he muttered.
The cashier gave him a crushing glance.
"You have undertaken a big job, my boy," said the latter. "I hardly think you will be able to carry it out when government detectives are bothered."
"I'll do my best."
"And you'll be pretty sure to get into further trouble."
"I may, but I am lucky about getting out of trouble."
"Yes, you are dead lucky," muttered the receiving teller.
The cashier gave Frank some outspoken advice, and then told the boy he might go.
Frank left the private office and walked out of the bank. There was a look of determination on his face.
"I don't fancy being beaten out of a hundred dollars," he said to himself. "It's not the money so much; but if that girl knew—if she played me——"
He stopped short, anger and disgust expressed on his face. His pride was touched. He did not like to think that he had been thus deceived.
"I am going to know!" he vowed. "I am going to know the truth!"
He walked away, his head down, thinking. He was trying to form a plan of action. Within a short time the mystery that surrounded the beautiful girl with two names had deepened. He must find a way to learn the truth; he would not be satisfied till he knew the truth.
For some time he walked along, paying little heed to his surroundings, and then, all at once, a thought came to him:
"I am followed!"
He was confident of it. He did not look back, but he seemed to see the shadower on his trail. They were determined to know at the bank if he had told the truth, and a detective had been detailed to keep watch of him.
Frank Merriwell's Bravery Page 20