Frank Merriwell's Triumph Part 21

The day was declining when Frank, d.i.c.k, and Brad came down into El Diablo Valley. It was, indeed, a dark, wild place, and for some time it seemed almost impossible of access. No plain trail led into it. On an elevation in the valley they had seen a ruined pile that bore a strong resemblance to a crumbling castle. The very appearance of these buildings belied the tale that Joaquin Murietta had built them there.

Had they been so recently constructed their ruined condition was unaccountable. It seemed certain that at least a hundred years had pa.s.sed since their erection. About the valley and the castle appeared hanging an air of mystery and romance.

That any one should choose such a remote and desolate spot to rear those buildings was beyond comprehension to the three young Americans who now beheld the ruins for the first time. Somehow those crumbling stones reminded them of the march of Cortez and his conquering treasure hunters. What Spaniard of that day, left behind in Mexico and supposed to be dead, had enriched himself with the treasures of the Aztecs and had escaped northward, only to find himself imprisoned in the new land, and to finally use a part of his treasures to erect this castle?

During the middle hours of the day alone did the southern suns.h.i.+ne fall soft and golden in El Diablo Valley. Therefore, they descended into the shadows and approached the castle, which seemed to lie silent and deserted in the midst of the valley.

"It's a whole lot strange we never heard of this place before," observed Buckhart. "Of course, others have seen it."

There was a cloud on d.i.c.k's face.

"Do you think, Frank," he questioned, "that there is any hope of finding Felicia here? Since leaving the mission we have seen nothing to indicate that we were still on the right trail."

"It's a good deal like hunting for a needle in a hay-stack," confessed Merry.

"Maybe those galoots who have her doubled back on us," suggested Brad.

"Maybe they turned on us there at the mission."

"It's not impossible," was Merry's regretful admission. "However, we are here, and we will find what there is to find."

There were no echoes in the valley. It seemed a place of silence and gloom. As they approached the ruins they surveyed them with increasing wonder. There were old turrets and towers, crumbling and cracked, as if shaken by many earthquakes. The black windows glared at them like grim eyes.

"I will bet my boots that there is no one around this yere ranch,"

muttered Buckhart. "Perhaps that old priest fooled us a whole lot."

Merry shook his head.

"I am sure not," he said.

They mounted the rise on which the castle was built and pa.s.sed through a huge gate and dark pa.s.sage, coming into a courtyard, with the crumbling ruins all around them. Here they paused. Suddenly at one of the narrow, upper windows of the old turret a face appeared. Some one was there looking out at them. Frank's keen eyes were the first to discover it.

Then to their ears came the cry of a voice electrifying them. The face at the window pressed nearer, and, together with the voice, it was recognized.

d.i.c.k gave a shout of joy.

"Felicia!" he exclaimed. "There she is, Frank. Can you see her in that window up there? Felicia! Felicia!"

But even as he called to her thus she suddenly vanished. As they stared at the window, another face showed for a moment and another pair of eyes looked down at them.

Then these also disappeared.

"Waugh!" exploded Brad Buckhart. "Here's where we get into action."

"She's there," declared Frank. "She's there--a captive!"

"It's sure to be a red-hot scrimmage," said Buckhart, looking at his revolver. "Take care that your guns are ready for action."

They leaped from their horses and swiftly approached the ruins, leaving the animals to wander where they might in the valley, well knowing they would not leave it.

Up the stone steps they bounded, coming to the deepset door, which by its own weight or by the working of time had fallen from its hinges.

Nothing barred them there, and they entered. As they dashed in, there was a sudden whirring sound, and they felt themselves struck and beaten upon as by phantom hands. This was startling enough, but Frank immediately comprehended that they were bats and the creatures were fluttering wildly about them. From one dark room to another they wandered, seeking the stairs that should lead them up into the turret.

"We need a light," said Merry.

"That certain is correct, pardner," agreed Buckhart. "We are a heap likely to break our necks here in the dark."

"But we have no light," panted d.i.c.k, "and no time to secure a torch. If we waste time for that we may lose her."

"Where are those pesky stairs?" growled the Texan.

Their search led them into a huge echoing room that seemed windowless.

Frank was exasperated by the aimlessness of their search. Had they not seen Felicia's face at the window and heard her voice, the silence and desolation of the place must have convinced them that it was in truth deserted. But now, of a sudden, there was a sound behind them. It was a creak on the rusty stairs. It was followed by a heavy thud and absolute silence.

"What was that?" asked d.i.c.k.

"It sounded to me," muttered Merry, "like the closing of a ma.s.sive door."

A moment later he struck a match, and by its light they looked around.

Holding it above his head, it served to illumine the chamber dimly.

"Wherever did we get into this hole?" asked Brad. "I fail to see any door."

The repeated lighting of matches seemed to show them only four bare walls. At last Frank found the door, but he discovered it was closed.

More than that, he discovered that it was immovable.

"Boys," he said grimly, as the match in his fingers fluttered out and fell into a little glowing, coal at his feet, "we are trapped. It's plain now that we did a foolish thing in rus.h.i.+ng in here without a light. That glimpse of Felicia lured us into the snare, and it will be no easy thing to escape."

"Let me get at that door!" growled Buckhart.

He flung himself against it with all his strength, but it stood immovable. They joined in using their united strength upon it, but still it did not stir.

"Well, this certain is a right bad sc.r.a.pe," admitted the Texan. "I don't mind any a good hot fight with the odds on the other side, but I admit this staggers me."

"What are we to do, Frank?" whispered d.i.c.k.

"Easier asked than answered," confessed Merry. "It's up to us to find some means of escape, but how we can do so I am not ready to say."

"Pards," said the Texan, "it seems to me that we are going to get a-plenty hungry before we leave this corral. We are some likely to starve here. The joke is on us."

"Hus.h.!.+" cautioned Merry. "Listen!"

As they stood still in the dense darkness of that chamber they heard a m.u.f.fled voice speaking in English. It seemed to be calling to them derisively.

"You're very courageous, Frank Merriwell," mocked the voice; "but see what your courage has brought you to. Here you are trapped, and here you will die!"

"h.e.l.lo!" muttered Merry. "So my friend, Felipe Dulzura, is near at hand!"

The situation was one to appall the stoutest heart, but Frank Merriwell was not the one to give up as long as there was the slightest gleam of hope. Indeed, in that darkness there seemed no gleam. It is not wonderful that even stout-hearted Brad Buckhart began to feel that "the jig was up."