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CHAPTER XI. – ANOTHER ESCAPE
The poor boy relapsed into silence, closing his eyes and breathing with no small difficulty. A great flood of pity welled up in the heart of Frank Merriwell as he looked at that thin, bruised face, and he felt like becoming the boy’s champion and avenger.
Again Frank pressed the thin hand that looked so weak and helpless. He held it in both his own warm, strong hands, and he earnestly said:
“My poor fellow! you have been wretchedly treated, and it is certain that Bernard Belmont shall suffer for what he has done. Retribution is something he cannot escape.”
“Oh, I don’t know!” weakly whispered George. “I used to think so – I used to think that the wicked people all were punished, but I’m beginning to believe it isn’t so.”
“You must not believe it isn’t so,” anxiously declared Frank. “Of course you believe there is an All-wise Being who witnesses even the sparrow’s fall?”
“Yes.”
“Then you cannot doubt that such a Being will visit just punishment upon the wicked man who has caused you so much suffering and pain. His way is past finding out, but you must trust Him.”
There was something noble and manly on the face of Frank Merriwell as he spoke those words, and the manner in which he uttered them told that he had the utmost and implicit confidence in the wisdom of the Being of whom he spoke.
At that moment it scarcely seemed possible that Frank was the same merry, laughing, lively lad who was usually so full of fun and pranks. Those who fancied they knew him best would have been amazed could they have seen him and heard his words.
Thus was shown one of the many hidden sides of Frank’s nature, which was most complex and yet honest and guileless.
The boy on the bed opened his eyes and looked at Frank in silence, for a long time. Finally he said:
“I see you really believe what you say, and you have given me new faith. I have suffered so much – so much that I had begun to doubt. It is hard to trust in the goodness of God when it seems that nearly all the wicked ones in the world are the ones who are prosperous. Bernard Belmont is believed to be an upright and honorable man in the town where he lives, and the people there think he was very kind to the two invalid children left on his hands when his wife died.”
“Some day they will know the truth.”
“It will be when I am dead!”
“Nonsense!”
“I am sure of it. Do you know, dear friend, Apollo hurt me so much to-night! It seems that he hurt me somewhere in – here.”
The boy pressed his hand to his side.
“But the doctor is coming, and he will make you well again.”
“Perhaps he can’t. I had rather not get well than be turned over to Belmont again and left for him to torture.”
George shuddered at this, and Frank ground his teeth softly, as he thought what intense satisfaction it would give him to see the man Belmont punished as he deserved.
“Why doesn’t Harry come with the doctor?” thought Frank, as he got up and impatiently paced the floor. “He has had plenty of time.”
A few moments later the boy on the bed beckoned with his thin hand.
Frank hastened to the bedside, anxiously asking: “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes,” whispered George; “sit down and listen.”
“I wish you would save your strength. You must stop talking.”
“I must talk, for it is my last chance. I want to tell you again that I know my sister is somewhere in the mountains up around Lake Tahoe. You have said you would find her. Do so; tell her I am gone. She is an heiress, for all the money Bernard Belmont has will belong to her then. If you could do something to aid her in obtaining her rights. Will you try?”
“I will try.”
“Oh, you are so good – and you are so brave! How you fought that terrible dwarf! You did not seem afraid of him! It is wonderful! I never saw anybody like you! Yes, yes, I am beginning to have faith. How can I help it after this?”
He smiled at Frank, and there was something so joyous and so pathetic in that smile that Merry turned away to hide the tears which welled into his eyes.
When Frank turned back he was bravely smiling, as he said, in a most encouraging manner:
“Now you must have faith that you are going to get well. That is what you need. It will be better than medicine and doctors. Think – think of meeting your sister again!”
“Yes, yes!” panted the boy. “Dear little Milly!”
“How happy she will be!”
“Yes, yes!”
“And think of regaining possession of what is rightfully your own – of getting square with Bernard Belmont.”
A cloud came to the face of the boy.
“Of course I want what is mine – I want Milly to have her rights,” he slowly said; “but – but it is not my place to punish the man who has wronged us.”
“The law will do that.”
“God will do that! I believe it once more since talking with you. I trust Him fully.”
There were footsteps outside the door, a gentle tap, and Frank admitted Harry and a physician.
The doctor sat down in a chair by the bed and asked the boy a few questions, while Frank and Harry anxiously watched and listened. The doctor’s face was unreadable.
“Who is this boy, Frank?” whispered Harry. “Where did you find him?”
“Wait,” said Merry. “I will tell you later, but not here.”
The doctor declared that the unfortunate lad must have some light stimulating food without delay, and he wrote a prescription.
“Take this to a druggist and have it filled,” he said, handing it to Harry.
Harry left the room.
The boy lay back on the bed, his eyes closed, breathing softly. The doctor arose and walked to the window, motioning Frank to join him.
“How is it, doctor?” Merriwell anxiously asked, in a whisper.
The man shook his head.
“I can’t tell yet,” he confessed; “but I fear he is done for. He has been starved, and his lungs are in a bad way. What he needs most is stimulants and food, but everything must be mild, as his system is in such a weakened condition. As for the injury to his side, of which he complains, of course I cannot tell how severe that may be.”
Frank’s heart sank, for the doctor was more discouraging in his manner than in his words.
“Save him if you can, doctor!” he entreated.
“I will. Is he a friend or relative of yours?”
“He is an utter stranger to me. I never saw him before to-night.”
The doctor lifted his eyebrows in astonishment.
“Indeed! Then who is to pay the bills for his care and treatment?”
“I will,” Frank promptly answered. “Here, take this as a fee in advance.”
A bill was thrust into the physician’s hand.
After looking at the bill the doctor assumed a very deferential manner.
“He should have a first-class nurse,” he declared.
“He shall,” assured Merriwell; “the best one to be obtained in Carson.”
“This is very strange,” said the physician. “I can’t understand why you should do such a thing for one who is a stranger to you. You must have an object.”
“I have.”
“Ah! I thought so!”
“My object is to see this poor, abused boy live and get his just due. He has been misused, and the man who has misused him should be punished. I hope to live to know that man has been punished as he deserves.”
“Ah!” came from the doctor once more. “Then you have a grudge against the man?”
“I never saw him in all my life. I never heard of him before this night.”
The physician was more puzzled than before.
“Then I must say you are a most remarkable person!” he exclaimed.
Once more there were steps outside the door – heavy shuffling steps.
The boy on the bed heard those steps, and a gasp came from his pale lips, as he turned his head toward the door, his face distorted by fear.
“He is coming!”
The words came in a hoarse whisper from the injured boy.
Frank started toward the door and the boy wildly entreated:
“Stop him – don’t let him come in here! Hark! There is another step! They are both there! They have come for me – come to drag me back to a living death!”
“Why, he is raving!” exclaimed the doctor.
Bang! – open flew the door. Without stopping to knock or ask leave to enter, a tall, dark-bearded man stepped into the room.
At this man’s heels came a crouching figure that seemed half human and half beast. It had a short, thick body and long arms that nearly reached the floor. Its face was pale as marble, save for a red scar that ran down the left cheek to the corner of the mouth. The eyes were set near together, and they glistened with a savage, cruel light.
Frank stepped between the intruders and the bed, but the boy had seen them, and he sat up, uttering a wild scream of fear, then fell back on the pillow.
“Who are you? and what do you want?” demanded Merriwell, boldly confronting the man and the creature at his heels.
“Never mind who we are; we want that boy, and we will have him!” declared the man. “He can’t escape us this time!”
Frank glanced at the figure on the bed, and then turned back, crying with great impressiveness:
“He can and has escaped you, Bernard Belmont; but he will stand face to face with you at the great bar of justice in the day of judgment!”
“What!” hoarsely cried the man, starting back and staring at the ghastly face of the boy on the bed; “he is dead!”
CHAPTER XII. – AT LAKE TAHOE
Poised like a sparkling gem in a grand and glorious setting of mountain peaks, lies Lake Tahoe, the highest body of water on the American continent.
The sun was shining from a clear sky when Frank Merriwell and Harry Rattleton reached a point where they could look down upon the bosom of the lake, from which the sunlight was reflected as from the surface of a mirror.
“There it is, old man!” cried Frank, enthusiastically – “the most beautiful lake in all the wide world!”
“That is stutting it rather peep – I mean putting it rather steep,” said Harry, with a remonstrating grin.
“But none too steep,” asserted Frank. “People raved about the beauties of Maggiore and Como, and thousands of fool Americans rush over to the old world and go into raptures over those lakes, but Tahoe knocks the eye out of them both.”
“I think you are stuck on anything American, Frank.”
“I am, and I am proud of it, too. Rattleton, we have a right to be proud of our country, and we would be blooming chumps if we weren’t. It is the greatest and grandest country the sun ever shone upon, and a fellow fully realizes it after he has been abroad and traveled around over Europe, Asia and Africa. I’ve been sight-seeing in those lands, my boy, and I know whereof I speak.”
“You are thoroughly American, anyway, Frank.”
“That’s right. I love my native land and its beautiful flag – Old Glory! I never knew what it was to feel a thrill of joy that was absolutely painful till I saw the Stars and Stripes in a foreign land. The sight blinded me with tears and made me feel it would be a privilege to lay down my life in defense of that starry banner.”
“Well, you’re a queer duck, anyway!” exclaimed Harry. “I never saw a chap before who seemed cool as an iceberg outside and had a heart of fire in his bosom.”
Frank laughed.
“Every man is peculiar in his own way,” he said “I never try to be anything different than I am. I am disgusted by affectation.”
“We have found Lake Tahoe, but that is not finding the ‘buried heiress,’ as you call her.”
“But we will find her.”
“I scarcely think it will be an easy task.”
“Nor do I think so, but I gave George Morris my word, and I am going to keep my promise to him, poor fellow!”
“You never seem to consider the possibility of failure, Frank.”
“The ones who consider the possibility of failure are those who fail, old fellow. Those who succeed are the ones who never think of failure – who believe they cannot fail. Confidence in one’s self is an absolute requisite in the battle of life.”
“There is such a thing as egotism.”
“Yes. That consists in bragging about what you can do. It is most offensive. It is the fellow who does things without boasting who cuts ice in this world. The other fellow often spends his time in telling what he can do, but never does much.”
“I think you are right; but let’s get down nearer the lake. I’ve heard that the water is marvelously clear.”
“It is so clear that a small fish may be seen from the surface, though the fish is near the bottom where the lake is the deepest.”
“Then it can’t be very deep.”
“It is, nevertheless. In many places it is thirty or forty feet – even more than that.”
“Then who invented the fish story?”
“The fish story is all right,” laughed Merriwell. “I know.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve been here before.”
“Here – at Lake Tahoe?”
“Sure.”
“Well, say!” cried Rattleton, in astonishment, “I’d like to know where you haven’t been!”
“Oh, there are lots of places where I haven’t been, but this is one of the places where I have been. That’s all.”
“What brought you here?”
“I came here in pursuit of a young lady in whom a friend of mine, Bart Hodge, was interested.”
“I think I have heard you speak of Hodge.”
“Yes, he was my chum when I was in Fardale Military Academy. We were enemies at first, and Hodge did his best to down me, but we became friendly after that, and Hodge turned out to be a very decent fellow.”
“Where is he now?”
“Give it up. Haven’t heard from Bart in a long time. Last I knew he was out here in the West somewhere.”
The boys had reached Tahoe on their wheels, there being a road to the lake. The road was not a very good one for bicycle traveling, but they had ridden a portion of the way.
Now they had left the road and pushed down to the lake by a winding path, along which they had been forced to carry their wheels at times.
They made their way down to the edge of a bluff, from the verge of which they could look over into the water.
“Say! it is clear!” cried Harry.
“I told you so,” smiled Frank.
“But – but – why, it almost seems to magnify! I can count the pebbles on the bottom. Look at those tiny fishes swimming around there.”
In truth the water was marvelously clear, and things on the bottom could be seen almost as plainly as if they were not beneath the surface.
“Why, it don’t seem possible that a boat can float on it!” broke from Harry.
“It is something like floating in the air.”
“Are there boats to be obtained near here?”
“There are a number of boats on the lake. There once was a man near here by the name of Big Gabe who owned a boat.”
“Let’s get it, if he is here now. I want to take a sail on this lake. How do we find Big Gabe?”
“I don’t know that we’ll be able to find him at all. He was a consumptive.”
“Oh, then he may be dead?”
“Not from consumption. He came here to die, but in less than a year he was stronger and heartier than he had ever before been, and he was so lazy that he didn’t care to do anything but lay around and take life easy. He said he was going to stay here till he died, but there seemed little prospect that he’d ever die. He – ”
At this moment there was a sudden wild snarl behind them, and, before they could turn, each lad received a powerful thrust that sent him whirling from the bluff to fall with a great splash into the water below.
Both lads had pulled their bicycles over the brink, so the wheels fell with a loud splash into the water which washed against the base of the steep rock.
The boys themselves had been sent whirling still farther out, and they sank like stones when they struck the water.
But they came up quickly, wondering what had happened.
“Blate glisters – no, great blisters!” gurgled Harry, as he spurted water like a whale. “Where are we at?”
“Christmas!” said Frank. “What struck us?”
And then, on the top of the bluff, they saw a creature that was dancing and howling with rage and satisfaction.
It was Apollo, the dwarf.
“May I be hanged!” exploded Rattleton. “It’s that thing!”
“It is!” agreed Frank; “and I supposed that thing must be hundreds of miles from here.”
“Going East.”
“Of course.”
“Belmont didn’t let any grass grow under his feet before he got out.”
“Not much.”
The creature on the bluff danced and screamed and waved its long arms, while its hideous face was convulsed with expressions of rage.
“Oh, I’d like to get at him!” grated Frank.
“Thank you, I’d much rather keep away!” exclaimed Harry.
Then the boys started to swim ashore.
Suddenly the dwarf began throwing stones at them. He picked up huge stones from the ground and sent them whizzing through the air with great force and something like accuracy.
“Well, this is getting rather hot!” exclaimed Frank, as a huge jagged stone shot down past his head and sank in the water.
“Hot!” gurgled Rattleton. “I should say so – some!”
“Look out!”
Another huge stone struck between them.
“If that had hit either of us, it would have fixed us!” came from Frank.
“You bet!”
“Swim, old fellow! We must get away.”
But as they swam, looking for a place to go ashore, the dwarf followed along the top of the bluff, still pelting them with stones, while he uttered those savage cries.
One of the smaller stones struck Merry and hurt him not a little.
“Wait!” he muttered. “I’ll get a chance at you yet!”
Then, regardless of the shower of stones, he started to swim in toward the shore where he saw a place that they could get out of the water.
But another stone whizzed down, and there came a broken, strangling cry from Harry.
“What happened, old fellow?” asked Frank, who was now a bit in advance. “Did the cur hit you?”
No answer.
Frank looked around, and found Harry had disappeared from view.
The dwarf on the bluff danced and howled with fierce delight.
As quickly as he could, Frank turned about, swam back a little and dived. It did not require a great effort to go down, for now his clothes were thoroughly wet, and he sank easily.
As soon as he was below the surface, keeping his eyes open, he saw his friend lying on the bottom. The water was so clear that there was not the least difficulty in this.
Down Frank went till he reached Harry, whom he grasped. Planting his feet on the bottom, he gave a great leap and shot upward.
The water was not more than eight feet deep, and he quickly reached the surface, immediately striking for the shore.
But his watersoaked garments and Harry’s weight dragged on him, and it was a desperate battle to keep from going down again.
“You must do it, Merriwell!” he told himself. “It’s your only show! Pull him out somehow!”
Several times his head was forced below the surface and it seemed that the struggle was over; but he would not give up, and he would not let go his hold on Harry.
“Both or none!” he thought. “If I can’t get out with him, I’ll not get out without him!”
The dwarf had disappeared from the bluff, which was a fortunate thing, as he would have been given a fine opportunity to pelt them with rocks as Frank slowly and laboriously swam ashore. Just then, if Merriwell had been struck on the head by a stone, it must have ended the whole affair.
“Oh, if my clothes were off!” panted Frank. “Then I could do it. I must do it anyway.”
He wondered how badly Harry was hurt, but it was impossible to tell till the shore was reached.
The water did not seem so buoyant as it should, and he almost felt that there was a force dragging him down.
Purely by his power of determination he succeeded in reaching the rocks and dragging himself out with his burden, when he sank down utterly exhausted.
“Thank goodness!” he gasped. “I did it!”
He had not been there many moments when he heard a cry above, and, looking upward, saw the dwarf had returned to the edge of the bluff.
The dwarf seemed astonished when he saw the boys had reached shore, and he sent a stone whistling down at them.
Frank dodged the missile, and then, with a fresh feeling of strength, hastened up the rocks toward the top of the bluff.
Apollo saw the boy coming and immediately took to his heels, quickly disappearing from view.
Finding the dwarf had escaped, Frank turned back, lifted Harry in his arms, and again mounted the rocks.
He reached the top and bore his friend to a place where he could rest on some short grass where he was sheltered from the sunlight.
Then Frank looked for Harry’s injury.
Rattleton had been struck on the head by a stone, which had cut a short gash in the scalp, and from this blood was flowing.
“It doesn’t seem very bad,” said Frank, as he examined the wound. “I rather think it stunned him, and that is all. He was not under water long enough to drown.”
Frank took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrung it out, intending to bind up Harry’s head with it.
At that moment, happening to glance up, he saw a pale, horrible face peering out from a mass of shrubbery.
It was the face of Apollo, the dwarf.
“That creature still here!” grated Merriwell, as he sprang up. “If he isn’t driven away, he may find a way to injure us further.”
Then he ran after Apollo, who quickly disappeared.
Frank pursued the dwarf hotly, hearing the little wretch crashing along for some distance, but Apollo succeeded in keeping out of sight, and, at last, he could be heard no more.
Merry was disgusted. He spent some time in searching for Apollo, and then returned to the spot where he had left Harry.
