Kitabı oku: «Frank Merriwell's Backers: or, The Pride of His Friends», sayfa 14
CHAPTER XXX.
FRANK IN SUNK HOLE
The Great Dipper indicated by its position that the hour was not far from midnight. Crowfoot halted and pointed downward, where, in the gloom of a round valley, a few lights twinkled.
"Sunk Hole!" he said.
"At last!" breathed Frank.
The others stood in silence, looking down at those lights. Suddenly they started, for to their ears came the sound of music, dimly heard because of the distance.
"Perchance my ears deceive me," said Ready; "but I fancy I hear the soothing strains of a fiddle."
"Sure as fate!" exclaimed Bart Hodge.
"Listen!" cautioned Merry.
There were other sounds, a sing-song cry at intervals, and then hoarse laughter and several wild whoops.
"By gum!" exclaimed Gallup. "Saounds jest like one of them air country dances they uster hev over to Billing's Corners, Varmount. The boys called them 'hog wrastles.'"
"See," said Merry, "there is one place that seems more brightly lighted than the others. It's right in the center of the other lights. Fellows, I believe there is a dance going on down there!"
"Just what I'm beginning to think," said Bart.
"My! my! How nice!" exclaimed Jack. "Let's go right down and get into it! Balance your partners all! All hands around! Let her sizzle!"
"That would be a splendid place for you to get into a dance!" said Frank sarcastically.
"But a dance there!" exclaimed Hodge.
"It does seem mighty strange," agreed Frank. "Still something of the kind is going on. Hear 'em yell!"
And now they could faintly hear the sound of feet keeping time to the music.
"We've struck this place in a most excellent time to get into it," said Merry. "I suppose one of us ought to go back and watch the horses."
The horses had been left in a little pocket some distance behind and they had climbed on foot to the point where they could look down into the round valley.
"No need watch um now," said Joe. "Um hosses all picket fast. We go down there, better go quick."
"Correct," agreed Frank. "Just show us how to get down."
"Follow," said the redskin. "Take heap care."
The path over which he led them, if path it may be called, was precarious enough. At times they felt that they were on the edge of some precipice, with a great fall lying beneath. But the aged redskin went forward with surprising swiftness, causing them all to strain every nerve to keep up with him, and in time he brought them down into the valley.
"Take lot care," cautioned Crowfoot. "Have guns reddy. No can tell. May have to use um 'fore git out."
"It's quite likely," said Merry grimly.
So they all made sure that their pistols could be drawn quickly and readily, and then they crept toward the dark huts, from the windows of which lights gleamed.
The sounds of fiddling and dancing grew plainer and plainer. Now and then a shout would awake the echoes.
"Where do they find their 'ladies' for a dance?" asked Hodge wonderingly.
"Oh, there are a few women in this hole," answered Merry. "Perhaps others have come in."
They reached the first hut and paused where they could peer along the street, if such it could be called, for the huts had been built here and there, so that the road between them zig-zagged like a drunken man.
In the very center of the place was the building, somewhat larger than its neighbors, from which came the sounds of revelry. Doors and windows were wide open. The music having stopped, there might be heard a hum of voices, and then the wild, reckless laugh of a woman floated out upon the night air.
Frank shuddered a little as he heard the sound, which, to his ears, was more pitiful and appalling than any cry of distress that could fall from female lips.
"Poor creature!" he thought. "To what depths has she fallen!"
They went forward again, slipping around a corner, and Merry stumbled and fell over the body of a man that was lying prone on the ground.
"Hold on!" he whispered. "Let's see what we have here. It's a man, but I wonder if he is living or dead."
He knelt and felt for the man's heart.
"Living all right," he declared; "but dead in one sense – dead drunk! Whew! what a vile smell of liquor!"
"Let him lie," said Hodge.
"I have a fancy to take a peep at him," said Frank. "Hold still. I want a match. I have one."
Bringing out a match, he struck it and shaded it with his hands, throwing the light on the prostrate man.
The light of the match showed them that the fellow was an unusually large Mexican, dressed after the custom of his people in somewhat soiled finery.
"Dead to the world!" sighed Jack Ready softly.
The match died out in Frank's fingers, but Merry did not rise.
"What are you doing?" asked Jack. "Are you accumulating his valuables?"
"Hardly," said Merry. "I'm thinking."
"Can such a thing make you think! What is passing in your massive brain?"
"I have an idea."
"That's more than Ready ever hed," muttered Gallup.
"Fellows," said Frank, "this man's clothes ought to be a fairly good fit for me."
"Well, what of it?"
"I'm going to wear them. Get hold here, and we'll carry him aside where there'll be little chance that any one will stumble upon us. Let's move lively."
They did as directed, although wondering why Frank should wish to exchange clothes with the drunken Mexican.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE DANCE IN SUNK HOLE
A low-ceiled room with a bar at the end near the door. The odor of smoke, liquor, and perspiration. The place lighted with oil-lamps having dirty chimneys. The lights of the lamps dancing and flaring to the stamp of many heavy-shod feet. A maze of human beings whirling, shifting, prancing, and cutting figures on the floor. Rough-looking men, bearded and armed; disheveled women, their faces glowing with excitement and from the effects of drink. At the far end of the room an old man, mounted on a square box and seated on a chair, sawing away for dear life at his fiddle, while he called the figures in a sing-song tone.
And this was the way the fiddler called:
"First couple balance and swing,
Promenade the inside ring,
Promenade the outside ring,
Balance and swing and cast off six,
Ladies to the right and gents to the left.
Swing the one you swung before,
Down the center and cast off four,
Swing the one that comes to you,
Down the center and cast off two."
The men were such as most women would avoid. With few exceptions, they had wicked faces. They had been drinking, and at intervals some elated and enthusiastic fellow would utter a blood-curdling yell.
But the figures they cut were laughable at times. They "spanked 'er down" furiously. They seized their partners and swung them until often they were lifted off their feet. But those were not the sort of women to mind.
Three or four of the citizens of Sunk Hole were married. Two had daughters old enough to be present at the dance. Other "ladies" had come in from the surrounding country, brought there by their partners.
There were a number of Mexicans in the crowd, and three or four Mexican women.
Into this smoky room came yet another Mexican, a young man, dressed in soiled finery, his wide-brimmed high-peaked hat shading his face. He had a little mustache that was pointed on the ends, and he walked with a swagger. Immediately on entering he made for the bar and called for a drink.
Had any one been watching him closely that person must have noticed that he did not drink the stuff put out to him, but slyly and deftly tossed the contents of the glass into a corner under the bar.
This newcomer was Frank Merriwell, who had disguised himself as well as possible and boldly walked into this den of ruffians.
Having pretended to drink, Frank stood back in a retired spot and looked the dancers over.
In a moment his eyes fell on Cimarron Bill, who had a Mexican girl for a partner and was enjoying himself in his own peculiar way.
Frank knew it would not be safe to come face to face with Bill, although he saw at once that the desperado had been drinking heavily and could barely "navigate" through the mazes of the dance.
"Gents chassé and put on style,
Resash and a little more style —
Little more style, gents, little more style,"
sang the fiddler; and the dancers strictly obeyed the admonition by putting on all the style of which they were capable.
Under different circumstances Merry would have been amused by the spectacle; and even now, for all of his peril, he was greatly interested.
Cimarron Bill was not habitually a hard drinker, but on this occasion he had surprised everybody present by the amount of whisky he had imbibed. He seemed determined to get intoxicated, and it was plain that he was making a success of it.
Frank did not wish to dance if he could avoid it, knowing he might be brought face to face with Bill in the course of some of the figures.
All around the sides of the room men were leaning and looking on, some of them laughing and calling to various dancers.
"Go it, Seven Spot!"
"Spank it down, Dandy!"
"Steady, Pie Face! Your left hoof belongs to the church!"
"See Honeydew! He's a holy terror!"
"Watch Lanky Jim cut a pigeon wing!"
"Say, Big Kate can dance some! You bet your boots!"
"Hi! hi! There goes Sweet William, plumb off his pins!"
Now the fiddler was calling:
"First lady out to the right;
Swing the man that stole the sheep,
Now the one that packed it home,
Now the one that eat the meat,
Now the one that gnawed the bones."
Frank found an opportunity to slip along the wall toward the back of the room. No one seemed to pay any attention to him until he accidentally stepped on a big fellow's foot. Instantly he was given a shove, and the man growled:
"What in thunder ails ye, you yaller-skinned greaser? Keep off my corns, ur I'll make hash o' you with my toad-sticker!"
"Pardon, señor, pardon!" entreated Merry, in a soft voice, with an accent that seemed perfectly natural. "I deed not mean to do eet, señor."
"Ef I'd 'lowed ye did I'd sure slashed ye without no talk whatever!" was the retort.
Having no desire to get into trouble, Merry took great pains to avoid stepping on another foot, and he finally reached the point he sought. In the corner at the far end of the room there was not so much light. A bench ran along there, and Frank found a seat on it, where he could lean against the thin board partition, and he did not mind if some of the men stood up before him so that he was partly screened.
Merry knew full well that he had done a most reckless thing in entering that place, where all around him were ruffians and murderers; but there was something about the adventure that he relished, and the danger gave it a spice that was far from disagreeable.
He thanked his lucky stars that this dance had given him the opportunity to get in there without attracting any more attention.
"Meet your partner and all chaw hay,
You know where and I don't care,
Seat your partner in the old armchair."
That particular dance ended with this call from the fiddler; but there were no armchairs in which the ladies could be seated, and Merry crowded up into the corner in order to be as inconspicuous as possible and to escape being disturbed.
There was a general rush for the bar, the fiddler getting down from his box and hastening across the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Some of the women accompanied their partners to the bar and drank with them.
Such depravity was not pleasant to witness, and Merry felt pity for the fallen creatures. Sentiment, however, he sought to put aside, thinking only of the dangerous mission that had brought him into that nest of gambolling tigers.
Two men sat down near Merry. They had been dancing, and observed, with some lurid embellishments, that it was hot. Then one of them said something that interested Frank.
"Bill's goin' it a whole lot stiff to-night."
"That's whatever. Never saw him punish the razzle juice this way afore."
"You know why, mebbe."
"Waal, I opine he's some irked up over his mistake in Holbrook. First time he ever shot the wrong gent. He warn't gunnin' fer File. It was another galoot he was after."
"I jedge that's the matter with him. Bandy tried to joke him some about it, an' Bandy came mighty near gettin' his."
"Bandy's a dern fool! He should 'a' knowed better than to shoot off his mouth at Bill."
"I say so. But Bill he's a-playin' a right steep game in that thar gal business."
"Bill kin play his keerds. You let him alone."
"No danger o' me chippin' in. They say the gal's folks are a heap rich."
"I opine so, else Bill he'd never taken so much trouble over her."
"Oh, I dunno; she's the purtiest leetle thing I ever set my blinkers on. I 'lowed mebbe Bill was lookin' some fer a wife."
"Wife – northin'! He's lookin' fer the dust. Why, he sent word as how he'd skin the galoot what dared hurt her or even say somethin' impolite afore her."
"Let me tell you somethin'."
"Fire erway."
"Han'some Charley has seen that gal, an' I 'low he's taken a likin' to her a whole lot. Bill better look sharp, ur Charley will sure get away with her."
"I ain't the one to give Charley no advice, but if I were, I'd whisper fer him to think twice afore tryin' it."
"Charley's some clever. Look, thar he is a-drinkin' with Bill now. Say, pard, I've got an idee that Charley's doin' his best to load Bill to-night. If that's so, he's got somethin' up his sleeve, an' we want to look right sharp fer a breeze afore this dance is over. I'm goin' to stand ready to duck instanter when the shootin' begins."
Frank could peer past a man in front of him without moving and see the person referred to as Handsome Charley, who was drinking with Cimarron Bill at the bar. This man was larger than Bill and heavier. He had a flushed, reckless face that wore a smile nearly all the time. He had a dark mustache and imperial, and there was about him the atmosphere of a dashing desperado.
Charley at this time seemed very friendly with Cimarron Bill, and it was plain that he was urging Bill to drink again.
"All right," thought Frank; "I'll watch you both."
At this moment a man appeared in the open door and looked timidly into the room.
At sight of this man Frank gave a start in spite of his wonderful nerve, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that he kept himself from crying forth a name.
Eliot Dodge, the crafty lawyer with the blue nose, stood there in the door. No wonder Merry was astounded to see that man appear in such a place and at such a time.
Dodge was rather pale, but an expression of relief flashed over his face when his eyes fell on Cimarron Bill. Then he stepped into the room.
Bill seemed no less astonished, but he advanced to meet Dodge, holding out his hand, which the lawyer accepted.
"However is this, Mr. Dodge?" inquired Bill. "I sure am a whole lot surprised to meet up with you here – that is, I'm surprised to have it occur so soon. Will you wash the dust out of your throat?"
"Don't care if I do," said Dodge, and they crowded nearer to the bar.
"Bill, I thinks mebbe you might present yer friend," chipped in Handsome Charley.
"Waal, Charley," said Bill, "this yere is Mr. – "
"Lewis," interposed Dodge quickly.
"Mr. Lewis," said Bill queerly. "Mr. Lewis, permit me to make you acquainted with Charley Sears, generally called Handsome Charley. Will you take a little pisen with us, Charley?"
Handsome Charley gave Dodge his hand, which the lawyer shook gingerly, his coolness causing the fellow to frown.
They all drank, and Bill lurched, catching at the edge of the bar.
"'Scuse me," he said, with unusual politeness. "Always makes me dizzy to dance. There is a right good lot of whirlin' around in it, you know."
Charley smiled.
"You had a fine partner that last dance, Bill; but you ought to bring out that handsome gal an' take a spin with her, man. I 'low it ain't right to keep her under kiver when every gent yere is yearnin' to set eyes on her."
"They'll have to keep right on yearnin'," averred Bill, frowning.
"You're gettin' a whole lot selfish," declared Charley. "Are you afeared some other gent will git her away from ye if you brings her out?"
"None at all, Charley. But she ain't for this gang to hustle around any, and that's level."
At this the other seemed to take offense.
"I opine, Bill," he said, "that you don't set yourself up as a heap better than the rest of this gang?"
The cruel face of Cimarron Bill took on an expression that was a warning.
"Charley," he said, in a low, smooth voice, with one hand on the bar to steady himself, "I am willing to confess that you disturbs me some. I has my reasons for not bringin' the gal out, an' you'll sure excuse me if I don't recite them none at present. Some other time I may explain."
But Charley persisted.
"Some other time it will be too late," he said. "I'm certain looking to dance one set with the little beauty myself, Bill."
"Sorry to disappoint you," returned Bill; "but the young lady doesn't dance none, if you want to know one good reason."
"Well, at least, you can bring her forth and permit us to gaze upon her a while," suggested Charley.
"Not to-night," was the firm retort.
"Then it certain will seem a heap like you thought her too good for us, and the boys won't like that a great deal if I tell 'em so."
Bill leaned on the bar, his back against it and his elbows resting so that his hands were close to his hips. In that manner he stood perfectly steady, and he was in a position to draw his pistols quickly.
"Charley," he said, his voice like the purring of a cat, all the thickness seeming gone from his tongue, while his wicked eyes narrowed to two thin slits, "I don't think you'll go for to say anything whatever to the boys on this point. You are my friend, I opine. Am I sure right on that?"
At this juncture Handsome Charley realized all at once that Bill was not yet drunk enough not to be deadly. Charley's eyes noted in a flash how the man had steadied himself and was ready for anything, and Charley decided that the time was not yet ripe for bringing on a quarrel.
"Of course I'm your friend, Bill!" he said, with pretended heartiness, "and whatever you says goes with me. I was just speakin' because I has heard some of the boys growlin' over this business. That's all."
Bill smiled, but his smile was anything but pleasant.
"If any o' the boys growl around in your hearin' some more," he said, "refer 'em to me, please. I reckons I can certain stop their growlin' in a hurry."
"All right, all right!" nodded Charley.
"And you, pard," Bill went on – "you, I judge, will say to them that I know my business a-plenty, and that you backs me up. Eh?"
"Sure, sure, Bill."
"I thought you would," nodded the desperado with the deadly eyes. "I opined I could depend on you."
"You bet! Have another drink, you and Mr. Lewis?"
"Excuse us, please," urged Bill. "I hates most mortally to decline; but I has some business to transact with Mr. Lewis, an' I says business first an' pleasure arterwards. Arter we has settled the business I'll stand up here to this yere bar an' drink with you as long as the pisen lasts. Is that all satisfactory like?"
This question was put in a manner that indicated beyond question that it would be best for Charley to acknowledge that it was satisfactory, and the acknowledgment was made.
"Thanks," bowed Bill. "You're a sure enough gent, Charley, an' I'll shoot the galoot what says to the contrary! An' now I reckons you'll excuse us a while. Come, Mr. Lewis, thar's a small back room, an' we'll jest step in thar."
Through this Dodge had stood there pale to the lips, with the exception of his blue nose, for he realized that these men were on the verge of a disagreement, and he understood that a disagreement between them meant shooting in short order. Bill, however, had won out by a display of calm assurance and nerve, which was remarkable, considering his condition.
The ruffian slipped an arm through that of Dodge, and they crossed the floor and passed through a narrow door just as the fiddler resumed his seat and called for the men to select partners and form for the next dance.
Frank had watched every move, realizing full well that there was a possibility of a "gun play" between those two desperadoes. He was unable to hear what passed between them, but still he fancied he knew the bulk of it, and, in spite of himself, in spite of the character of the man, he could not help admitting Cimarron Bill's masterfulness. Frank comprehended that Charley had thought at first of forcing a quarrel, but had been cowed by Bill's manner.
The agitation of Eliot Dodge was also quite apparent. Merry had already marked Dodge down as a coward.
When the two men passed into the back room Frank longed to follow them. He sat there, wondering what course to pursue.
That June Arlington was somewhere in Sunk Hole he now felt certain. The talk of the two men who had been seated near him was assurance enough on that point.
But where was she? How was he to find and rescue her? This task he now understood as the most important one before him and the one to which he was to give his attention at once, regardless of the capture of Bill, which could be accomplished later.
As he sat there, thinking the affair over and seeking to decide on some course to pursue, he was surprised and pleased to distinctly hear Bill speaking in the room beyond the board partition. These boards were thin and badly matched, so that there were large cracks at intervals. One of these cracks happened to be just behind Frank's head. By shifting his position slightly, he brought his ear close to the crack.
The fiddler was tuning up, and the rough men and women were laughing as they formed on the floor for the next dance.
Frank was able to concentrate his mind on anything he chose, at the same time becoming quite oblivious to everything else; and now he shut out the sounds of the room in which he sat and listened with all his ability to hear what passed beyond the partition.
"Sure, partner," Bill's voice was saying, "it surprises me a whole lot to see you come pokin' in here. However did you git here?"
"Terry came with me all the way. You said he would bring word to you from me, but I could not wait. I wanted to have a talk with you face to face, without trusting to any middle man. I felt that I must do it, and that's what brought me here for one thing."
"Waal, here you are, and now open up. I'm ready to listen to anything whatever you has to say."
"In the first place," Frank distinctly heard Dodge say, "Ben File is dead."
"Say you so?" exclaimed Bill, and his voice indicated regret. "I allow I'm a-plenty sorry."
"It was bad work."
"That's right. Don't know how I happened to do anything like that. Never did afore. I saw Merriwell make a jump, and I thought from the way he done it the bullet sure had gone clean through him."
"And you never touched him!"
"Don't rub it in harder than you kin help, Mr. Dodge!"
"Hush! Don't speak that name here! It must not get out that I'm in this game! It would ruin me!"
"That's all right, pard; no danger. Hear the racket out yonder in that room. Nobody would ever think o' tryin' to hear what we're sayin'."
"Still it will be better to keep on calling me Lewis. It's a dangerous game we've tackled, and I want to get it through in a hurry now. That's why I'm here."
"Waal, whatever do you say is the next move?"
"Merriwell got out of Holbrook right after you."
"I knows it. The gent sure chases me a distance, but he gits lost, together with his pards, some time afore night."
"Well, now is the time to make the demand on Mrs. Arlington for the ransom money. It must be rushed along. She's in a state of mind so that she'll be sure to give up easy now. I've waited for this, and I find she will pay well to have June returned to her unharmed."
"That's a heap soothin' and agreeable news. I has waited fer you to say when it was best to make the demand on the old lady."
"And I've waited until I felt sure she was so distressed and agitated that she would yield. She did not wish her husband to know of her presence here, and so she sent no word to him at first. Now she has wired him the whole facts, and we can reckon that he'll be coming this way as fast as steam can carry him. It's best to get the whole deal through, if possible, before he shows up."
"I'm for it."
"You must write a demand on the woman for the boodle. She has diamonds and jewels with her on which she can raise ten thousand dollars. Make her raise it at once. Don't let her delay. Frighten her into it."
"I opines I can do that. I'll give her a scorcher. I'll tell her the gal is all safe an' onharmed, but she has to plunk down instanter or I'll send her one o' Miss June's fingers to hurry her up a leetle."
"That will go. I think that ought to start her."
"If you says so, I'll make it stiffer. What if I adds that one o' the gal's prittey hands will foller? or an ear – mebbe that's better?"
"As you choose. Say that the money is to be placed in my hands to be delivered to your agent, who will meet me on the open plain ten miles from Holbrook in whatever direction you choose. Then I can ride out with it and come back, and you can bring the girl into town under cover of night."
"I reckon that ought to work, partner. This yere game is your plannin', an' I falls inter it because I reckons it was easier than gittin' ahead o' Merriwell an' seizin' the mine. Had I shot up Merriwell, instead o' File, I'd 'a' called on the lady hard fer the price, which, together with the money I'll get out o' this strike, would have made me easy for a right good while."
"I'm against your idea of trying to saddle the kidnaping onto Merriwell."
"Why?"
"I don't think it will go. Merriwell might return to Holbrook. If the demand for money had his name attached, his arrest would seem to put him where it would be necessary for him to produce the girl. Mrs. Arlington was for forcing him to do so when File took him. Anything like that would cause delay, and delay is something we do not want."
"Mr. – ah – Mr. Lewis, you sure reasons correct. We'll jest hitch a made-up name to the demand for money, which will be a whole lot better."
"I think so. And now let's write this demand, so that I may turn about and get out of this hole immediately. You must furnish me with a fresh horse. I'm supposed now to be searching for Merriwell, several men in town having set out upon the same task, for Mrs. Arlington offered a reward for his recapture. I will be able to make a very satisfactory explanation of my absence from Holbrook."
