Frank Merriwell's Athletes Part 61

"Let him alone," said Pecos Pete. "He's dead ter ther world, an' he couldn't tell anything. We're losin' time."

So Billy was left to sleep off his jag while the search was continued.

It proved anything but satisfactory, as no person save the half-blood was found who could have fired the shot, and it seemed certain that Billy Cornmeal had not done it.

There was something mysterious about the affair.

"If there had been a possible way for him to do the trick, I should suspect Indian Charlie," said Diamond; "but he was with us, and we know he did not do the trick."

"He did not do it," said Hodge, fiercely, "but he may have been at the bottom of it."

They went back to the house.

As they entered, they were astonished to meet Frank, about whose head a bandage was tied.

Rattleton gave a wild shout of joy and clasped Merry in his arms.

"He's all right, fellows!" Harry shouted. "Here he is! He is not dead!

Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" roared the others, expressing their delight in a wild outburst of cheering.

It was some time before the rejoicing over Frank's lucky escape abated, but the mystery of the shot remained a mystery still.

Who had tried to kill Merriwell? That question seemed unanswerable.

"I tell you," said Hodge, "I believe that half-breed had something to do with it."

"Billy Cornmeal?" asked Rodney.

"Sure."

"But he was drunk."

"He seemed to be, but I don't think he was drunk at all. I think it was a trick, and he played it well."

"Why should he shoot Merriwell?"

"That is a question he might be forced to answer. Let's go find him and bring him into the house."

This was agreed upon, but when they went to look for the half-breed he was gone. He had seemed too drunk to move, but still he had disappeared.

That was suspicious. They looked for his pony, and that had disappeared also.

"He must have skipped immediately after we left him," said Hodge; "and so he has had time to place himself beyond some of those knots of timber. That is proof enough that he was the skunk who did the shooting, but some other person put him up to it. Mark me, the real enemy of Frank Merriwell is not Billy Cornmeal."

CHAPTER x.x.xVI-A CAST FOR LIFE-CONCLUSION

Frank begged them not to let what had happened interrupt the sport, and so it was soon in progress again.

The cowboys gave some exhibitions of the manner in which they roped steers and wild horses, and a Mexican "roper" did some fancy work with a lariat.

The Mexican delighted them with his skill, and not a few of his tricks were graceful and difficult, being very pleasing to the eye.

He could set a noose whirling in the air, let it fall over his head, still whirling, pa.s.s down to his feet, and then he would step out of it without letting it touch his person or the ground and lift it whirling into the air.

This trick he would reverse, whirling the noose about a foot above the ground, step into it and whirl it up over his head into the air.

He could send it spinning far upward, till the rope looked like a big corkscrew top, with the little end touching his hand, and then, as it fell, he would jump through the noose and snap it into the air again.

"I can't do that," smiled Frank, as he watched the roper, "but I am not exactly a greenhorn with a rope. I can throw it fairly well."

A sudden desire to get on horseback and join in the sports once more seized him. He could not keep still.

"I am all right," he declared. "It will hurt me much more to hump up and keep still. Let me have the best horse you have, Mr. Rodney. If I harm the animal, I will pay for him."

"You shall have Fleetfoot," said the rancher. "In fact, I feel like letting you have anything I own."

A short time later Frank was mounted on a handsome black gelding, a creature full of fire and intelligence.

Frank joined the cowboys in their sport, and, being provided with a rope, sprang another surprise on them by showing that he could cast the noose with more than ordinary skill.

The fun waxed fast and furious, and the cowboys, riding madly hither and thither, drew farther and farther from the house.

Suddenly all were startled to hear a shrill cry and see a girl running toward them.

Several women and girls came rus.h.i.+ng out of the house and ran around the corner toward one of the corrals.

The girl running toward the cowboys was Inza Burrage. She waved her hand toward the corral.

At that moment a horse bearing a double burden was seen to shoot out from the corral and go racing across the plain.

"It's Indian Charlie's critter, an' that's Charlie on its back!" cried Hank Kildare.

"Right ye are!" agreed Pecos Pete; "but it's more'n Charlie ridin' ther critter! He's got somethin' in his arms! Dern my eyes! I reckon he's tryin' ter kerry off Rodney's gal!"

"That's it!" burst from Frank Merriwell. "He is kidnaping Miss Rodney!

After the fellow, men! We must run him down!"

Frank was right. Charlie, driven desperate and maddened by several drinks he had taken, had quite lost his head. Again seeking Sadie Rodney, he had found an opportunity to catch her in his arms, carry her to the corral, where his horse was saddled and ready, and bear her away.

Ordinarily the man would not have attempted such a thing. Just now he was ready for any desperate deed.

He believed he had a horse that was the superior of anything on or about Rodney's ranch, and so he had tried to kidnap Sadie, hoping to get a big start before he was discovered.