Frank Merriwell’s Athletes E-Book

Burt L. Standish

• Herausgeber: Ktoczyta.pl
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

The main character shows that in athletics, strength and skill win, regardless of money or family; it so happened that the poorest person at the university became a demonstration of becoming an idol for all young people. This story proves that in spite of its origin or on the income of its family. You can still achieve everything in this life. The main thing to believe in it.

Leseprobe

Contents

CHAPTER I. FRANK AND HIS FRIENDS

CHAPTER II. BARNEY’S STORY

CHAPTER III. IN A QUANDARY

CHAPTER IV. INZA’S LETTER

CHAPTER V. TO THE RESCUE

CHAPTER VI. FRANK BUYS A YACHT

CHAPTER VII. THE STORM

CHAPTER VIII. A CHANGE OF SCENE

CHAPTER IX. A DISCUSSION ABOUT GIRLS

CHAPTER X. THE YALE COMBINE

CHAPTER XI. THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE

CHAPTER XII. FRANK IS TROUBLED

CHAPTER XIII. A GAME FOR TWO

CHAPTER XIV. A GOOD START

CHAPTER XV. A HOT DASH

CHAPTER XVI. THE ARRIVAL AT EMBUDO

CHAPTER XVII. OFF FOR PUEBLO

CHAPTER XVIII. CARVER’S OPINION

CHAPTER XIX. ON DANGEROUS GROUND

CHAPTER XX. THE SUN DANCE

CHAPTER XXI. THE RELIGIOUS RACE

CHAPTER XXII. THE BALL GAME

CHAPTER XXIII. THE WRESTLING MATCH

CHAPTER XXIV. THE FOOT RACE

CHAPTER XXV. JOHN SWIFTWING’S FAREWELL

CHAPTER XXVI. MORNING AT RODNEY’S RANCH

CHAPTER XXVII. COWBOY PECULIARITIES

CHAPTER XXVIII. INDIAN CHARLIE IS SURPRISED

CHAPTER XXIX. HANS AND THE BRONCHO

CHAPTER XXX. INDIAN CHARLIE’S GAME

CHAPTER XXXI. FRANK MERRIWELL’S RIDE

CHAPTER XXXII. INSOLENCE OF BILLY CORNMEAL

CHAPTER XXXIII. SHOOTING

CHAPTER XXXIV. FRANK SHOWS HIS SKILL

CHAPTER XXXV. WHO FIRED THE SHOT

CHAPTER XXXVI. A CAST FOR LIF. CONCLUSION

CHAPTER I. FRANK AND HIS FRIENDS

“Say, boys, just listen to that racket!”

It was Jack Diamond who spoke, and he addressed Frank Merriwell and several others of his friends.

“It is certainly awful,” came from Harry Rattleton, one of the boys.

“I can’t stand much of this,” put in Bruce Browning. “It is enough to drive one crazy.”

The boys had just entered the outer portals of a Chinese theatre, located in Chinatown, the Celestial portion of San Francisco. There was a great crowd, and it was only with difficulty that they made their way along the narrow and gloomy passages leading to the theatre proper.

Frank Merriwell and his chums from Yale College had filled in their summer vacation by a trip on bicycles from New York to San Francisco. They had had numerous adventures, but had come out “right side up with care,” as Frank put it.

The party was composed of Frank Merriwell, Harry Rattleton, a former roommate at Yale; Jack Diamond, from Virginia; Bruce Browning, fat, lazy and good-natured; and Toots, a colored boy from the Merriwell homestead.

On reaching California, Frank had fallen in with Bart Hodge, a schoolmate of years gone by, when Frank had attended Fardale Military Academy. Bart had been in serious trouble, and it was Frank who helped him out of it. For some time Hodge had found it best to “keep shady,” and his troubles were not yet a thing of the past.

As the boys walked farther into the entrance of the Chinese theatre, a clanging medley of the most horrible sounds came up from the passage that lay at the foot of a steep flight of stairs.

Frank Merriwell laughed.

“That is music, old fellow!” he said.

Then came another burst of sounds, more horrible than the first, if possible. There was a banging of brass, a clanging of gongs, a roaring of drums, and a wild shrieking and wailing as of ten thousand fiddles cut of tune.

Jack jabbed his fingers into his ears and actually turned pale.

“Music!” he gasped–“that music? That is enough to drive any man crazy! It is the most frightful thing I ever heard. Music! You are joking, Merriwell!”

“Not a bit of it,” declared Frank. “Aren’t we on our way to witness a play in a Chinese theatre?”

“Well, I supposed so, but it strikes me now that this is one of your jokes. You have put up a job on me. You are trying to horse me.”

“Nothing of the sort, my dear boy.”

Jack still continued suspicious.

“Who ever heard of such a way of getting into a theatre?” he exclaimed. “We entered a narrow door in an old building, came through a long, dark passage, climbed stairs, descended stairs, turned, twisted, climbed more stairs, turned again, and now here we are with another flight of stairs before us. A fine way of getting into a theatre!”

“That is the way the Chinese do the trick. Eh, John?”

The Chinaman who had been acting as their guide, and who stood on the first stair, waiting for them to follow him downward, nodded his head, saying:

“Allee samee legler way.”

“It may be the regular way,” admitted Jack; “but I doubt if I could find my way out of here alone. This would be a fine place to run an enemy into if one wished to murder him secretly. There would be little danger that the police would ever find out anything about it.”

Frank made a signal to the guide, and then the trio slowly descended the stairs, which were dimly lighted by paper-shaded lamps.

At the foot of the stairs the boys passed a door that stood open, enabling them to look into a room that was filled with bunks, upon many of which lay Chinamen who were sleeping or smoking opium. The powerful odor of “dope” that came from that room was sickening.

Then they came to an ordinary step-ladder that led downward again.

Jack halted in dismay.

“Why,” he said, “we must be underground now! Where are we going?”

“To the theatre, dear boy. Hear the music.”

“Why will you persist in calling it that? It seems that those sounds come from the infernal regions, and this passage must lead down to the old fellow’s reception-room.”

“Glit to theatal plitty soon,” assured the guide.

Down the ladder they went, and then, at an open door, paid an admission fee, after which they entered a room that was packed with human beings and was not at all well ventilated.

The room had a low ceiling, from which Chinese lanterns were suspended, shedding a soft light over the scene, which was so strange that it actually seemed weird to the American visitors.

At either side of the theatre was a space railed off and raised somewhat above the level of the general floor. This was reserved for women, and was well filled. In the pit sat a closely packed throng of men, all with hats upon their heads.

There were a great number of Caucasian visitors, drawn to the place by curiosity.

The stage was on a level with the raised portion reserved for women, and it was filled with actors, many of whom were richly dressed in oriental robes.

Instead of sitting in front of the stage, like an American orchestra, the musicians were on the stage.

As for scenery, there was none to speak of, save a few movable screens. It was not thought necessary to attempt to please the eye further than in the matter of costumes.

As no female actors are ever permitted on the stage of a Chinese theatre, the female rôles were played by youths, who were carefully made up for their parts.

The Chinese guide found seats for Frank and Jack, but retired himself to the back of the room, where he stood and waited till they should see enough of the show and wish to go.

The audience never applauded, although there was a quick rippling response to what seemed to be an occasional witty passage or clever situation.

But the musicians–the musicians wearied and tortured Jack Diamond’s soul. They were there to accentuate the emotional parts of the play, and they seemed bent upon doing their duty and doing it fully. At times they poured forth a maddening volume of sounds, and then they seemed to get weary and rest, with the exception of two or three stringed instruments, which sawed, and squeaked, and squawled, and growled, and muttered till the Virginian’s blood was cold and his hair standing like porcupine quills.

“Frightful! frightful!” he gasped.

Frank chuckled with satisfaction. It was a new experience for Diamond, and Merriwell was enjoying it as one always enjoys introducing his friends to something new and novel.

“My dear fellow,” whispered Frank, “I fear your ear is not educated to appreciate the beauties of Chinese music.”

“Music! music! Why, a boiler factory in full blast makes better music than this!”

“You are prejudiced. It is a fact that their music is based on ah established scale and a scientific theory.”

“Oh, come! that’s too much! Why, see, those players have no leader, and every man is going it alone for himself. It is exactly the same as if every person in one of our orchestras should play a different tune than anybody else and all play at the same time–only I don’t believe these heathens are playing tunes at all. They are just hammering, and tooting, and sawing away, and letting it go at that.”

“It does seem so,” confessed Frank, “although at certain points they all come together with a grand burst, like sprinters making a dash.”

Jack’s hand dropped on Frank’s wrist.

“Look!” he excitedly whispered, pointing to a Chinaman who had risen amid the spectators at a short distance. “What is that fellow going to do? I saw him conceal a knife in his sleeve.”

“And he acts as if he meant to use it on some one,” said Frank, made suspicious by the fellow’s manner. “That’s exactly what he is up to!”

But the Chinaman did not succeed in his purpose, for a stout youth suddenly arose from a seat and gave the heathen a terrific crack on the jaw, knocking him down in a twinkling.

“Take thot, ye thafe av th’ worruld!” cried the one who had delivered the blow. “It’s Barney Mulloy thot wur watchin’ yez all th’ toime, ye haythen spalpane!”

“Barney Mulloy!”

Frank uttered the name in a joyous cry of recognition; but his voice was drowned by the sudden uproar in the theatre. Men sprang to their feet, and women screamed.

Frank caught Jack by the arm, shouting in his ear: “Come, we must stand by that fellow! He is an old friend of mine!”

“I am with you,” assured Diamond, who had good fighting blood, which was easily aroused.

They forced their way through the throng which surrounded the boy who had struck the Chinaman.

“Barney!” cried Frank.

“Mother av Mowses!” shouted the Irish lad in amazement. “Is it mesilf thot’s gone crazy, or am Oi dramin’?”

“Not a dream,” assured Merry, as he grasped Barney’s hand.

“Is it yesilf, Frankie?”

“It is!”

“Dunder und blitzens!” cried another voice at Frank’s side. “Uf id don’t peen Vrankie Merriwell, you vos a liar!”

Then Frank’s amazement and wonder was complete, for he was grasped and hugged by the arms of a fat boy who was laughing all over his fat, jolly face, and that boy was Hans Dunnerwust, who, with Mulloy, had known him at Fardale Academy when all were students there.

“Hans! Why, where–how––”

But Frank was given no time for questions, as an angry crowd was pressing about them, and they were in danger.

Merriwell lifted his voice, crying:

“Every American in the place should stand by us! My friend struck the Chinaman because he saw him draw a knife, and the blow was delivered in self-defense.”

Several voices answered, and bursting through the crowd came three men in yachting suits, who assured the boys that they would stand by them.

The yachtmen seemed to be on a lark, and they took great delight in knocking Chinamen right and left, which they did in a highly entertaining manner.

“For the door!” cried Frank, commandingly. “We must get out of here!”

For the door they rushed, sweeping everything before them. Crack! crack! crack! sounded the blows of the yachtsmen’s fists, and they gave a hoarse cheer that seemed to have in it the boom of the surf on a rocky coast.

“Hurro!” shouted Barney Mulloy, in a wild fever of excitement. “It’s mesilf thot’s not been in a bit av a scrap loike this fer a wake! It’s fun, it is! Git out av th’ way, ye pig-tailed rat-’aters! Ye nivver wur made ter live in a whoite man’s country at all, at all!”

“Say, you nefer saw such a fight as this, did I?” cried the Dutch boy, flourishing his arms in a furious manner and striking friends almost as often as foes. “Uf this don’d peat der pand, you don’d toldt me so!”

With a few exceptions, the Chinamen did not seem at all anxious to get in the way of the Americans. It was not the first occasion when an affair of a similar nature had occurred in a Chinese theatre.

Sometimes some of the bloods of the town would come down into Chinatown full of wine and “good intentions,” and it was their custom to end the racket whenever possible by “cleaning out” a Chinese theatre.

Many of the spectators on this occasion believed it was a pre-arranged plan to clean out the theatre, and so they made haste to get out themselves as soon as possible.

The boys and their sailor friends were among those who early rushed out through the door, and they clambered up the step-ladder with no small haste.

It was not difficult to find their way out, for it was only necessary to follow the crowd. Now and then a few of the Chinamen disappeared by means of side doors, but the most of them kept straight on to the open air.

The main streets of the quarter were lighted by paper lanterns, which gave out a dim, mellow light, beneath which the oriental throng looked strange and fantastic.

To Frank it seemed as if they were in Pekin instead of the American city of San Francisco.

Barney Mulloy laughed heartily.

“Did yez ivver see th’ bate av thot?” he cried. “It’s th’ divvil’s own ruction it wur, but nivver a Chink came back fer a sicond dose afther gettin’ a chrack av me fist.”

“Dot’s vot’s der madder mit Hannah!” put in Hans. “Ven I hit somepody my fist mit they nefer lif to dell uf him. Yah!”

“They nivver knew ye shtruck thim, ye Dutch chase,” said Barney, contemptuously.

“Dot vos righd,” agreed Dunnerwust. “Ven I hit nopody it alvays means sutten death.”

“G’won!” snorted the Irish boy. Then Barney caught hold of Frank once more, and gave him a genuine bear hug.

“Begorra! Oi thought Oi’d nivver see yez again, Frankie!” he cried. “Oi hearrud ye wur in Yale Collige, an’ it’s yersilf Oi thought moight get such a great gintlemon ye’d care nivver a bit to see yer ould fri’nds any more at all, at all.”

“You should know me better than that, Barney,” said Frank, protestingly. “No matter what happens to me, you may be sure I’ll always be true to my old friends.”

“Dot vos righdt!” grinned Hans. “Vrankie Merriwell nefer goes pack on his friendts, ur don’d you pelief me. He vas all righdt vrom der top uf his headt ubvard.”

Other visitors kept pouring from the small door that had admitted them to the passage leading to the theatre, and one of the sailors, a handsome-looking man with a full beard, said:

“I think, we’ll get away from here, as the police seem to have a grudge against any one in a sailor’s suit, and this racket may bring some of them down here.”

Immediately Frank said:

“We owe you thanks, sir, for the aid you gave us in getting out of a bad scrape. You responded to my appeal for help immediately, and––”

The man interrupted with a laugh.

“We were only too glad of a chance to do it, as we were looking for a good opportunity to smash a few Chinks in the mug. Eh, boys?”

“That’s right,” nodded his companions.

Merriwell looked at the men curiously, and he saw they were anything but ordinary sailors. All were fine-appearing men, and they spoke like persons of education.

“We will go along with you, if you don’t mind,” he said. “I think we have seen quite enough of Chinatown to suffice for to-night. What do you say, fellows?”

“I am sure I have,” said Diamond.

“And Oi,” nodded Barney.

“You vos anodder,” grinned Hans, who meant to say he was quite willing to leave Chinatown for the night.

So the little party moved away, and as they went along the leader of the yachtsmen said:

“My name is Chandler and I am stopping at the Baldwin. Have been cruising in my yacht with several friends, but just now I am trying to sell her, as some business has arisen which defeats my plans for a summer’s outing.”

Frank introduced himself, and in a short time the boys were chatting freely with the yachtsmen, who proved to be rather jolly gentlemen.

Passing out of Chinatown they were soon on Market Street, and a walk of a few blocks brought them to the hotel where Merriwell and the friends who had accompanied him on the bicycle tour across the continent were stopping.

Chandler wished to go in and “blow off,” but Frank insisted that none of the party drank.

“If that is the case, you are a queer set of college lads,” said Chandler, with a laugh. “I never saw a college boy who would not swim in beer every chance he found.”

“There are exceptions, you see.”

“I see, and I consider it most remarkable. Will you smoke?”

But Frank declined to drink or smoke, shook hands with his accidentally found friends, and they parted.

“Now,” he said, addressing Barney and Hans, “you must come in and see our rooms.”

They entered the hotel and ascended in the elevator to the floor on which the boys had their rooms.

A few minutes later Barney and Hans were thoroughly at home.

CHAPTER II. BARNEY’S STORY

“Well, Oi nivver saw th’ loikes av this!” exclaimed Barney, in amazement. “It’s loike bein’ back at Fardale ag’in.”

“You pet my poots!” grinned the Dutch boy. “Id makes me think der time uf dot Hodge vos hazed der oldt poathouse in. You tidn’t like dot so much as you might, eh, Partly?”

“I can’t say that I ever took to hazing much,” confessed Hodge, who looked moody and worried.

“Yaw, dot vos der trute. Dot vos der nighd ven I sing dot peautiful hymn caldt ‘Bull For der Shore.’ I remember me dot song. Id vent someding dis a vay:

“Bull vor der shore, sailor, bull vor der shore, Ged indo dot lifepoat, undt ged der roof off, Shbit on your handts, sailor, undt let her rip, Uf you dond’d prace up, you ged left alretty yet.”

Dunnerwust roared forth the song as loudly as he could, and Frank hastened to stop him, laughing as he said:

“Good gracious, Hans! this is no menagerie! It is a first-class hotel, and we’ll be fired out if we make such unearthly noises in the rooms.”

“I don’d toldt you so?” exclaimed the Dutch boy in surprise. “Don’d der beople der hodel in abbreciate goot musicks?”

“Possibly they do when they hear it.”

“Vell, oben der toor und gif um der chance uf their lifes. I vos goin’ to sing again alretty soon.”

“If you try it, I’ll throw you out of the window!”

Diamond gave a sigh of relief.

“Talk about a Chinese orchestra!” he muttered. “There are other things quite as bad.”

Hans looked sad.

“I vos afraidt mein voice vos not abbreciated,” he said. “Id vos hardt ven a veller feels so goot he vants to varble like der pirds und der friendts uf him von’t gif him a shance. Oxcuse me vile I shed a tear. Vill somepody lent me an onions?”

“Oi’m glad ye’ve got somebody to hold ye down, ye Dutch chaze,” grinned Barney. “It’s mesilf has been unable intoirely to kape th’ Dutchmon shtill, Frankie. It’s in danger av bein’ arristed he has put us twinty toimes a day.”

“What I want to know,” said Frank, “is how it happens that I find you two together here in San Francisco.”

“Vale,” said Hans, “I comes me oudt here to visit mein cousin, Fritz, undt I runs me acrost Parney.”

“But, Barney, the last I knew of you you were in London with your Sister Bridget. I didn’t suppose you were in America.”

“It’s an accidint Oi’m here at all, at all,” averred the Irish lad. “An’ it’s yesilf thot’ll be moighty interisted whin Oi tells yez how thot accidint happened.”

“Yah,” nodded Hans; “he vos sure to trop deat ven you toldt him der odder berson of dot vas San Vrancisco in.”

“I am getting intensely interested already,” said Frank. “Go ahead, Barney, and tell the story. We’ll all sit down and listen.”

“Excuse me if I lie down,” murmured Browning, as he stretched his massive frame on a couch. “I am troubled of late with that tired feeling.”

“Vot you took vor him?” asked Hans, anxiously. “I’d vos tangerous ven you let him go und don’t took nottings.”

“The best thing I have found to take for it is a rest.”

“Do you know why the Chinese make such good actors?” asked Rattleton.

“You toldt me dot.”

“All right. They make good actors because they never forget their cues.”

“Yah! yah! yah!” cackled Toots, the colored boy, who had been keeping still and remaining in the background. “Land ob watermillions! dat boy Rattletum cayan’t help sayin’ dem fings. It jes’ comes nacheral wif dat boy.”

“Meester Raddleton must haf peen eatin’ eggs,” observed Hans, soberly. “He vos full uf yokes.”

Toots stared at Hans, and then, suddenly seeing the point, he had a fit. He laughed till Frank threw one of Browning’s bicycle shoes at him. The shoe struck the colored lad and knocked him off his chair to the floor. He picked himself up and sat down without a word, looking sad and subdued.

“Now, Barney,” said Frank, gravely, “be good enough to go on with your story. I think we have quieted the menagerie.”

“Begorra! Oi nivver saw such a crowd as this in all me loife,” declared the Irish lad. “It’s a jolly ould party it is.”

Then he began his story:

“It’s nivver a bit av money could Oi make in London, an’ so, whin Oi got a chance to go to Australia wid a foine gintlemon thot gave me a job on his ranch, Oi shnapped it up quicker thin ye could wink th’ two oies av yes.

“But afther Oi got there Oi didn’t loike the place a great dale. It wur too fur away from anything at all, at all, an’ it’s lonesome Oi got; so Oi wint to th’ gintlemon an’ told him. It’s a foine splindid mon he wur, fer he said to me, sez he, ‘Barney, me b’y, it’s sorry Oi am to have yez go, but Oi don’t want to kape ye av’ ye’re lonesome an’ homesick.’ Wid thot he wur afther givin’ me a roll av money thot he said Oi could pay back av Oi ivver got th’ chance, an’ Oi packed me hooker an’ shtarted fer Sydney.

“It’s a roight shmart town thot same Sydney is, as ye know yersilf, Frankie, fer it’s goin’ there ye wur th’ last toime Oi saw yez. Oi wur moighty intheristed in that place, an’ wan day who should Oi mate roight on th’ strata but–– Oi’ll bet ye can’t guess in a thousan’ years, Frankie.”

“Yah,” nodded Hans; “he don’d peen aple to guess in zwei t’ousan’ year.”

“Then I will not try,” said Frank. “Who was it that you met, Barney?”

“It wur th’ girrul ye used ter be so shtuck on at Fardale, me b’y.”

“What, not–not––”

“Inza Burrage!”

“Yah, Inza Porrige,” grinned Hans.

Inza Burrage was a young lady of whom Frank had been very found in former days, and she still held a warm corner in his heart.

“Goodness!” cried Frank. “Inza–in Australia?”

“Sure she wur, me b’y. Ye know th’ last toime ye saw her she wur wid her fayther, an’ th’ ould gintlemon wur thravelin’ fer his hilth on th’ continent.”

“Yes, yes.”

“They wint to Italy.”

“Yes.”

“It wur there that Misther Burrage met Lord Stanford.”

“Who is Lord Stanford?”

“An Inglish gintlemon wid more money than brains.”

“Und he vos nod der only bebble on der peach,” put in Hans.

“What about him? How does he come into the Story?” asked Frank.

“He made love to Inza, me b’y.”

“Made love to her? Why, she is nothing but a little girl.”

“It’s forgittin’ ye are that she has been gettin’ oulder, as well as yersilf. She is almost a young lady now, me b’y.”

“But not old enough to think seriously of love.”

“Is it that oidea ye have, Frankie? An’ do yez fergit how Rolf Raymond, her cousin in New Orleans, troied to make her marry him?”

“That was an outrage, for she was a mere child.”

“Ye’ll see a change in her whin ye mate her. An’ it’s her fayther thot’s lookin’ out for a foine match fer her.”

“Impossible! I am sure Mr. Burrage would not––”

“Sure is it ye are! Ha! ha! Whoy, it’s thot th’ old gintlemon wur thravelin’ fer more than fer th’ hilth av him.”

“Barney, I can’t believe this.”

“Belave it ur not, it’s the truth, an’ he wur afther makin’ her marry Lord Stanford.”

“What an outrage–what an outrage!” shouted Frank, springing to his feet and excitedly pacing the floor. “Don’t tell me he succeeded in forcing her into such a marriage!”

“He would have sucsaded av Oi hadn’t sane her.”

“And you, Barney–what did you do?”

There was a twinkle in the eyes of the Irish youth.

“Oh, Oi did nivver a thing!” he chuckled. “She told me iverything about it.”

“And then–then what?”

“She wanted me to hilp her run away.”

“Did you?”

“Did Oi? Well, say! Did ivver a swate girrul appale to Barney Mulloy thot he wurn’t ready to break his neck fer th’ loikes av her?”

Frank’s excitement grew.

“Barney, you are a trump!” he shouted. “I could hug you! What did you do? How did you do it?”

“She told me she had some money av her own with which she could pay her way back to th’ Unoited Shtates.”

“Yes, yes!”

“All she wanted wur to get away widout her fayther ur th’ lord knowin’ a thing about it.”

“And you aided her?”

“Me b’y, she didn’t know how to do th’ thrick, an’ so I was afther securin’ passage fer her on a steamer bound fer San Francisco.”

“And did you–were you able to get her away? Did she get on board without being stopped?”

Barney nodded.

“She has an aunt in Sacramento, an’ she said she would be all roight av she could rache thot lady.”

“In Sacramento? And she is there now? You aided her in getting to her aunt? Barney, you should have a gold medal!”

“Waid a bit, me laddibuck; you’re gettin’ ahid av me shtory. Oi got her onto th’ stamer, an’ Oi took passage on th’ same craft. As Oi didn’t have money to burrun, Oi come in th’ sicond cabin, whoile she came firrust class. All th’ same Oi found a chance now and thin to chat wid her. She told me all about her aunt. She said her aunt could make th’ fayther av her give up th’ skame to marry her off to the Inglish lord.”

“Blessings on that aunt!”

“Wait a bit! wait a bit!”

Frank showed alarm.

“Don’t tell me she could not find her aunt, or that the woman refused to aid her!”

“Nayther thing happened. It war loike this: Another stamer sailed fer San Francisco the day afther us.”

“What of that?”

“It wur a fasther stamer than th’ one we wur on, Frankie.”

Merriwell’s fears were fully aroused.

“Go on! go on!” he cried.

“Av course her fayther an’ th’ Inglish lord diskivered she had run away, an’ they found out she had taken a stamer.”

“They followed on the other?”

“They followed a pace.”

“Followed a piece? Why, how were they to turn back?”

“Nivver a bit did they do thot, but th’ last parrut av th’ trip we wur folleyin’ thim, an’ nivver a thing did we know about thot.”

“They passed you without your knowing it, you mean.”

“Thot is phwat Oi mane.”

“And then–then––”

“Whin we lift the stamer at this port, they wur there to receive us.”

A cry of dismay broke from Frank, and then he suddenly became quite cool in his manner, the change being so pronounced that it was startling.

“I presume they took charge of her?” he said, grimly.

“Thot’s phwat, an’ they nearly took charge av me whin they found me wid her. An officer wur called to arrist me, but it’s a roight loively pair av legs Oi have, an’ th’ polaceman nivver got his fingers on me collar, though it wur some high dodgin’ Oi did.”

“What became of Inza?”

“Thot is phwat Oi’d loike ter foind out, Frankie, an’ it’s two days Oi’ve been thryin’ to do so.”

CHAPTER III. IN A QUANDARY

Frank took a turn twice the length of the room, and then stopped before Barney and the others, who were watching him in silence.

“Fellows,” he said, his voice firm and steady, “Inza Burrage is a girl whom I admire very much. When I attended school at Fardale we were sweethearts. I fancy the most of you know what it is to have a sweetheart at school. Circumstances may separate such sweethearts in after years, but nothing ever makes them forget each other. They are sure to think of each other with tenderness and respect. A thousand times have I thought and dreamed of Inza. I have felt that I was ready to make any sacrifice for her–ready to do anything in my power for her. I have said that, if the time ever came when she needed a true friend, she could depend on me. That time has come. She is in need of a friend, and I must find her and aid her. It may be possible that I shall need the assistance of my friends. Who may I count on?”

In a moment every boy in that room was on his feet and declaring his eagerness to stand by Frank through anything and everything.

Frank did not smile; he was very grave and stern, although something like a look of satisfaction passed across his face.

“I thought so,” he nodded. “In fact, I knew it. The first thing is to find out where Miss Burrage is.”

“She may not be in San Francisco at all now,” said Browning, who showed unusual interest for him.

“That is quite true.”

“Oi think she is,” said Barney.

“What makes you think so?”

“Lord Stanford had a haythen Chinee for a servant.”

“What of that?”

“It wur thot same haythen me an Hans folleyed to th’ thayater in Chinatown this avenin’. Thot is how we happened to be there.”

“Yah,” nodded the Dutch boy; “dot vos der trute.”

“That is interesting,” admitted Frank. “I hope it may prove that you are right. Were you watching the Chinaman when you were attacked?”

“Hans was. Oi had sane th’ rat-’ater spake to another wan, an’ Oi felt sure he said somethin’ about us. Oi watched the other, an’ it wur a good thing fer me that Oi did.”

“The other was the one who tried to get a knife into your back?”

“Yis. Th’ dirruty rascal didn’t know Oi had me oie on him all th’ toime.”

“In the excitement that followed, you lost sight of the one you followed there.”

“Vale,” said Hans, “I don’d peen aple to keep vatch uf him afder efrypody shumps ub all aroundt.”

“That was most unfortunate. If you could have followed him without his knowing it, he might have led you straight to his master.”

“Thot’s phwat Oi thought, me b’y.”

Frank thought the matter over for a few moments, and then said:

“It seems to me that there is a probability of this Lord Stanford being in San Francisco, although Inza’s father may have taken her away. If his servant had left him, it is not likely an attempt would have been made on Barney’s life. The Chinaman’s master must have told him to look out that he was not followed by Barney, and the heathen was going to stop it somehow.”

“It seems rather remarkable to me,” said Jack, “that they should care whether Barney followed them or not, for it is likely they now have the girl under such close watch that there is absolutely no chance for her to run away again.”

“She may have been forced into a marriage already,” Browning said.

“You do not know her,” declared Frank. “She is a girl of such spirit that her father will find it extremely difficult to compel her to marry against her will.”

“Yah,” nodded the Dutch boy, “you pet me my poots on dot!”

“Begorra! she has th’ clane grit in her,” agreed Barney.

“That is certain,” admitted Bruce, “else she would not have dared run away as she did. Not one girl in a thousand would have the nerve to do a thing like that.”

“I am greatly interested to see this remarkable young lady,” said Diamond. “I like girls of spirit.”

Frank paid no heed to what the others were saying. He was walking the floor, the expression of his face showing that he was in a brown study.

“Shust look ad him,” whispered Hans. “Uf he geds dot Lort Sdanfort holdt uf–vale, dot feller don’t know vere he vas at purty queek alretty.”

After a time, Frank paused to say:

“This is a case on which no time is to be lost, as Inza may be forced into a marriage if she is not soon given aid in some manner. Unfortunately, it seems to me that there is no clew to begin work on immediately. We are at sea.”

“Av you don’t foind a way out av it roight off it will be th’ firrust toime ye ivver wur balked,” said Barney, admiringly.

“There is always a first time, but we will hope this is not one. I am going to give the matter some thought. Talk it over, fellows, and see if you can’t devise some plan.”

As Frank was passing into an adjoining room, Hodge approached him, saying in a low tone:

“You must not forget that I am in constant danger every day I remain in California, Merriwell. I must get out as soon as possible.”

At first a shadow of annoyance seemed to rest on Frank’s face, but it quickly passed, and he said:

“You are right, Bart. A steamer leaves for Honolulu day after to-morrow. To-morrow I will secure passage on her for you.”

Then he passed on into the room.

Two hours later Rattleton found Frank alone.

“Well, Merry,” said Harry, “what is to be done? Have you decided yet?”