Frank Merriwell's Athletes Part 32

Ephraim took his cue, having tumbled when Barney winked.

"Wal, darn my punkins!" he growled. "Yeou make me sick! Mebbe yeou really do think yeou could cut Frank aout?"

"Uf I vant to tried him."

"Wall, I'll bet a 'hole barril of yaller-eye beans that yeou can't do northin' of the kind, b'gosh! Yeou take me up, if you darst!"

"Betther be careful, Ephraim," said Barney, in a manner of mock warning.

"Ye won't have inny b'anes to ate nixt winther. Ye see Frankie is payin'

all his attintion to Miss Abigail noo, an' it's ounly himself as could do innything wid th' loikes av her-onliss it is Hans."

"I'll stan' to my bet," said Gallup. "Hans never could do a dinged thing with Miss Abigail."

"Vos dot vot I thought, eh?" excitedly exclaimed the Dutch lad. "Veil, I proff him to you! I shown you britty queek alretty vot I done dot directions in. I vos a hustler ven I started out, und don'd you forget him!"

"All right," grinned Ephraim. "If yeou can cut Frank aout with Miss Abigail darned if I don't deliver them beans!"

Then the Vermonter and the Irish lad chuckled and nudged each other, antic.i.p.ating no end of sport, for they knew Hans was in earnest and would make an attempt to win the attention of the spinster.

Embudo is down on the railroad time tables, and that is about as near as it comes to being on earth.

When the party reached the station platform they looked around for the town. To their astonishment all they could see was the little red station house and a lonely water tank. On both sides were towering cliffs of lava, that looked as if they had been scorched and melted by the fiercest of heats, and the boys found it difficult to believe that the sickly creek in sight was the Rio Grande River. The little stream made a great fuss as it dashed over a bed that was paved with blocks of black basalt, as if seeking to call attention to itself and its importance.

"Well!" exclaimed Harry, astonished; "jay I be miggered-I mean may I be jiggered!"

"Golly sakes to goodness!" gasped Toots. "Where am we, chilluns?"

Bruce Browning groaned.

"Sold again!" he muttered, in despair. "Why, this is the next stop to the infernal regions!"

"Where's the town?" asked Diamond.

A man who wore a silk hat on the back of his head and carried his hands in the pockets of his striped trousers, which-marvel of marvels!-bore traces of a crease, came forward and said:

"The town, gents, is right across the river there. It is not quite as large as Santa Fe, but it serves as a stopping place all right, if you are on your way to Taos, which I reckon you are."

He eyed them closely, as if sizing them up. His eyes were piercing, and his mustache was coal-black. There was that in his appearance that p.r.o.nounced him a gambler.

The boys thanked him and looked for the town.

They discovered a long, low adobe building, and that const.i.tuted the entire town. It was the post office, hotel and general store, and was kept by a Mexican, who was on hand at the station to get the mail.

A number of pa.s.sengers beside Frank and his friends left the train.

Frank went ahead toward the baggage car to look out for the luggage.

The station agent was a beardless youth, to whom the arrival of a train was a most welcome break of the lonely monotony of the place. He was hurrying about and showing his importance.

About the station were several loungers, Mexicans and Indians.

Barely had Frank gone forward when he was startled to hear a loud scream, which he recognized as the voice of Inza.

That scream told him something of a startling nature had happened, and like a flash he whirled about.

He was astonished to see Inza struggling in the the arms of a blanketed Indian, who seemed attempting to lift her and carry her off bodily.

With a pantherlike bound, Merry sprang to the rescue.

Quick as he was, another person was on hand ahead of him.

A tall, swarthy young man, dressed in plain clothes, which seemed to fit his magnificent form very well, leaped at the Indian and the girl, tore them apart, and knocked the redskin down with a single straight-from-the-shoulder blow.

It was all over in a second, and the rescuer was saying something to rea.s.sure the frightened girl.

All over?

Not quite!

As the Indian who had been knocked down started up in a dazed way, lifting himself with one hand, the man who wore the silk hat whipped out a long-barreled revolver, coolly observing:

"Here is where I a.s.sist Uncle Sam in settling the Indian question."

In another moment he would have shot the Indian, but Frank was in time to grasp his wrist and turn the revolver skyward.

The weapon spoke, and the bullet flattened against the face of the lava cliff above.

The man turned his dark eyes on Frank, and the boy saw a blazing devil in their depths. His face turned crimson, but his voice was still quite cool, as he addressed Merriwell:

"My dear young man, do you know it is very dangerous to chip into a game like that?"

"I saved you from committing murder, sir," said Frank, equally as cool.

The man's teeth seemed to gleam through that black mustache.

"Murder!" he said, scornfully. "You kept me from shooting a dog, that's all. If you will take your hand off my wrist, I'll do the job now."

"No, you must not!"

Never had Frank seen a more dangerous look on the face of a living man.

He felt that wrist tremble beneath his fingers.

"You are a tenderfoot," said the owner of the silk hat. "If you were anything else--Well, this would mean your funeral! I am ashamed to shoot you, but I may forget myself if you do not withdraw from the game."

"If you will promise to put up that gun and let this drunken Indian go, I will withdraw."

"Did you ever hear of Dan Carver?"

"Yes."