Frank Merriwell Down South Part 70

"Wait!" howled Miller. "They sha'n't escape!"

He s.n.a.t.c.hed out a revolver, pointed it straight at Frank's breast, and fired!

Just as the desperate ruffian was pulling the trigger, the man nearest him struck up his hand, and the bullet pa.s.sed through Frank's hat, knocking it to the ground.

Miller was furious as a maniac, but, at this moment, the black horse and the das.h.i.+ng rider burst in upon the scene, plunged straight through the circle, halting at the side of the imperiled lads, the horse being flung upon its haunches.

"Wal, what be you-uns doin'?" demands a clear, ringing voice. "What work is this, that I don't know erbout?"

The men were silent. Wade Miller cowered before the chief of the moons.h.i.+ners, trying to hide the revolver.

Muriel's eyes, gleaming through the twin holes of the mask he wore, found Miller, and the clear voice cried:

"You-uns has been lettin' this critter lead ye inter somethin'! An' it's fair warnin' I gave him ter keep clear o' meddlin' with my business."

The boys gazed at the moons.h.i.+ner chief in amazement, for Muriel looked no more than a boy as he sat there on his black horse, and his voice seemed the voice of a boy instead of that of a man. Yet it was plain that he governed these desperate ruffians of the mountains with a hand of iron, and they feared him.

"We-uns war 'bout ter hang two revernues," explained Miller.

Muriel looked at the boys.

"Revernues?" he said, doubtfully. "How long sence ther gover'ment has been sendin' boys hyar ter spy on us?"

"They know what happens ter ther men they send," muttered Miller.

"Wal, 'tain't like they'd be sendin' boys arter men failed."

"That's ther way they hope ter fool us."

"An' how do you know them-uns is revernues?"

"We jest s'picions it."

"An' you-uns war hangin' 'em on s'picion, 'thout lettin' me know?"

"We never knows whar ter find ye, Muriel."

"That is nary excuse, fer ef you-uns had held them-uns a day I'd knowed it. It looks like you-uns war in a monstr'us hurry."

"It war he-uns," declared one of the black hoods, pointing to Miller.

"He-uns war in ther hurry."

"We don't gener'ly waste much time in d.i.n.kerin' 'roun' with anybody we-uns thinks is revernues," said Miller.

"Wal, we ain't got ther record o' killin' innercent boys, an' we don't begin now. Take ther ropes off their necks."

Two men hastened to obey the order, while Miller sat and grated his teeth. As this was being done, Muriel asked:

"What war you-uns doin' with that revolver when I come? I heard ye shoot, an' I saw ther flash. Who did you-uns shoot at?"

Miller stammered and stuttered till Muriel repeated the question, his voice cold and hard, despite its boyish caliber.

"Wal," said Wade, reluctantly, "I'll have ter tell yer. I shot at he-uns," and he pointed at Frank.

"I thought so," was all Muriel said.

When the ropes were removed from the necks of the boys, Muriel directed that their feet be tied again, and their eyes blindfolded.

These orders were attended to with great swiftness, and then the moons.h.i.+ner chief said:

"Follow!"

Out they rode from beneath the tree, and away through the misty moonlight.

Frank and Barney could not see, but they felt well satisfied with their lot, for they had been saved from death for the time being, and, somehow, they felt that Muriel did not mean to harm them.

"Frank," whispered Barney, "are yez there?"

"Here," replied Frank, close at hand.

"It's dead lucky we are to be livin', me b'y."

"You are quite correct, Barney. I feel like singing a song of praise and thanksgiving. But we're not out of the woods yet."

"Thot Muriel is a dandy, Frankie! Oi'm shtuck on his stoyle."

"He is no more than a boy. I wonder how he happened to appear at such an opportune moment?"

"Nivver a bit do Oi know, but it's moighty lucky fer us thot he did."

Frank fell to speculating over the providential appearance of the moons.h.i.+ner chief. It was plain that Muriel must have known that something was happening, and he had signaled with the bugle to the Black Caps. In all probability, other executions had taken place beneath that very tree, for the young chief came there direct, without hesitation.

For nearly an hour they seemed to ride through the night, and then they halted. The boys were removed from the horses and compelled to march into some kind of a building.

After some moments, their hands were freed, and, tearing away the blindfolds, they found themselves in a low, square room, with no windows, and a single door.

With his back to the door, stood Muriel.

The light of a swinging oil lamp illumined the room.

Muriel leaned gracefully against the door, his arms folded, and his eyes gleaming where the lamplight shone on them through the twin holes in the sable mask.

The other moons.h.i.+ners had disappeared, and the boys were alone in that room with the chief of the mountain desperadoes.

There was something strikingly cool and self-reliant in Muriel's manner--something that caused Frank to think that the fellow, young as he was, feared nothing on the face of the earth.

At the same time there was no air of bravado or insolence about that graceful pose and the quiet manner in which he was regarding them.

Instead of that, the moons.h.i.+ner was a living interrogation point, everything about him seeming to speak the question that fell from his lips.