Frank Merriwell's Bravery Part 12

ter stay hyar ter-night, an' I'll be reddy fer 'em ef they come."

"Thank you again," said Frank, sincerely. "All I ask is a square deal and a fair show. I know it looks black against me just now, but I'll clear my honor."

Burchel Jones laughed, sneeringly.

Kildare said nothing more, but left the cell, locking the door behind him.

At noon Frank was brought an a.s.sortment of food that made his eye bulge.

He asked if that was the regular fare in the jail, and was told it had been sent in by his friends.

"The professor and Barney, G.o.d bless them! I wonder why they have left me alone so long? But I know they are working for me."

It was late in the afternoon when Barney appeared, and was admitted to the cell. The Irish lad gave Frank's hand a warm squeeze, and cried:

"It's Satan's own sc.r.a.pe, me lad; but we'll get ye out av it if th'

spalpanes will let yez alone ter-noight. Av they joomp yez, we'll be here ter foight ter ther last gasp."

"I know you will, Barney!" said Frank, with deep feeling. "You are my friend through thick and thin. But, say, do you think there is much danger of lynchers to-night?"

"Av Mishter Dawson dies, there will be danger enough, and, at last reports it wur said he could not live more than two ur thray hours."

CHAPTER VIII.

THE LYNCHERS.

When Barney returned to the hotel he found Professor Scotch in a very agitated and anxious mood.

"This is terrible--terrible!" fluttered the little man, wringing his hands. "How can we save him?"

"Phwat has happened now, profissor?" asked Barney, anxiously.

"I have received no reply to my telegrams."

"Kape aisy; the reploies may come lather on."

"And they may not till it is too late. I leaned out of the window a short time ago, and I heard a crowd talking in the street below. That horrible ruffian, Bill Buckhorn, was with them, and he was telling them how to make an attack on the jail. Some of the crowd laughed, and said Hank Kildare had been very slick about getting his prisoner under cover, but he would not be able to keep him long after night came."

"Av they make an attack on th' jail, it's oursilves as should be theer to foight fer Frankie," said the Irish lad, seriously.

"Fight!" roared Scotch, in his big, hoa.r.s.e voice. "Why, I can't fight, and you know it! I can't fight so much as an old woman! I am too nervous--too excitable."

"Arrah! Oi think we have fergot how ye cowed Colonel La Salle Vallier, th' champion foire-ater av New Orleans."

"No, I have not forgotten that; but I was mad, aroused, excited at the time--I had completely forgotten myself."

"Forget yersilf now, profissor."

"I can't! I can't! It's no use! I would be in the way if I went to the jail. I shall stay away."

The professor was an exceedingly timid man, as Barney very well knew, so he did not add to his agitation by telling him that, while returning from the jail, he had heard it hinted that the boy prisoner had two friends in the hotel who might be treated to a "dose of hemp necktie."

The professor, however, suspected the truth, and he kept in his room.

Danger could not keep Barney there, and, having reported the result of his conversation with Frank, he went out to learn what was going on.

Two persons very much in evidence since the arrival of the train were the Jew and the dude. The Jew had a way of insinuating himself into the midst of any little knot that was gathered aside from the general throng, and, if they were speaking guardedly, he seemed sure to hear what they were saying and enter into the conversation. As a rule, this was not what would be called a "healthy" thing to do in such a place and on such an occasion; but the report of Solomon's encounter with Bill Buckhorn, the Man from 'Rapahoe, had been circulated freely, and the Jew was tolerated for what he had done.

While he appeared very curious to hear anything that seemed like private conversation, the Jew did not neglect any opportunity to transact business, and he made so many trades during the day that the size of his pack materially decreased.

The dude seemed scarcely less curious than the Jew. He had a way of listening with his eyes and mouth wide open, but he lost no time in getting out of the way if ordered to do so. For all of his curiosity, he seemed very timid.

The day pa.s.sed, and night came. Still Professor Scotch had received no answers to his telegrams.

Shortly after nine o'clock that evening, the report spread rapidly that Robert Dawson, the Eastern banker, was dead.

Immediately there was a swift and silent stirring of men--a significant movement.

"Thot manes throuble!" was Barney Mulloy's mental exclamation. "Th'

sheriff should know av it."

The Irish lad believed that he was watched, but he hurried to the professor's room, telling him to lock the door and keep within till the storm was over, and then he slipped out of the hotel.

Barney did not hurry toward the jail at once, but he took a roundabout course, dodging and doubling, to bother any one who might attempt to follow him.

Finally, having doubled on his own course, he struck out for the jail.

There was a moon, but it was obscured at times by drifting clouds, something rather unusual in that part of the country for a night that was not stormy, and did not threaten to become so.

Coming suddenly to the main street of the town, which led straight from the hotel to the jail, Barney paused and listened.

He heard a sound that caused his heart to beat faster, while he held his breath and strained his ears.

Tramp! tramp! tramp! It was the swift and steady rush of many feet.

There was no sound of voices, but the crouching boy knew a body of men was approaching.

Barney drew back, concealing himself as well as he could, and waited.

Nearer and nearer came the sound.

A cloud pa.s.sed from the face of the moon, and then the watching boy saw a band of men rushing swiftly past his place of concealment.

The men were masked, and all were armed.

They were moving straight toward the jail.