Frank Merriwell’s Chase

OR

EXCITING TIMES AFLOAT

By BURT L. STANDISH

Author of “Frank Merriwell’s School Days,” “Frank

Merriwell’s Chums,” “Frank Merriwell’s Foes,”

“Frank Merriwell’s Trip West,” etc.

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS

238 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK CITY

Copyright, 1898

By STREET & SMITH

————

Frank Merriwell’s Chase

FRANK MERRIWELL’S CHASE.

CHAPTER I
THE RECEPTION AT BELFAST.

“Das vas Pelvast,” said Hans.

“Yes,” nodded Frank, who was at the wheel of the White Wings, “that is Belfast, ‘the home of fair women, brave men and Strainer’s Sarsaparilla.’”

Frank Merriwell, the great Yale athlete, was cruising off the Maine coast, during this vacation in his yacht, the White Wings. He had with him four of his friends—Bart Hodge, Bruce Browning, Jack Diamond and Hans Dunnerwust.

“How do you knew so much apout him?” asked the Dutch boy.

“Why, there it is in glaring letters on that big advertising board that has been placed where it can be read almost anywhere here in the harbor.”

“Vale, I didn’t seen dot. I don’d vant no sarsbarillas, und I don’d gif a cend vor der prafe men, but I don’d mind if you took a look der peautiful girls at.”

“They say we shall see plenty of them here,” smiled Merry. “Belfast is famous for them. No city of its size in the State of Maine can compare with it for pretty girls and beautiful women, if the report is true.”

“Vot peen der madder mit Shack Ti’mond?” chuckled Hans, calling attention to the Virginian. “He don’d seem to took some interests dose peautiful girls in.”

“Haw!” grunted Bruce Browning. “He is thinking of the girl he left behind him—at Bar Harbor.”

“Vale, Baula Penjamin vos a beach,” admitted the Dutch boy; “but there vos odders.”

“You make me weary, Hans,” said Jack, irritated. “If you will close up a while I shall consider it a great favor.”

“I don’t toldt you so!” squawked Dunnerwust. “You vos tochy, dot’s vot is der madder mit me! You nefer vos aple to took a shoke in my life.”

“Your jokes are rather dense.”

“I don’d knew vot you meant py dot.”

“I didn’t suppose you would.”

The boys were charmed with the view of Belfast obtained from the water. The city is built on a slope, and is embowered in trees, the houses and cottages showing amid the green mass of foliage. Here and there could be seen the tall spires of churches. The handsome residence of the mayor on Northport Avenue could be plainly seen, as it was situated in a sightly place overlooking the harbor and the bay.

Several vessels were on the stocks in the shipyards, and the sound of hammering could be heard, while crews of men were seen busily working about them.

The harbor was filled with shipping. Lying at her wharf, taking on freight and passengers, was the Boston boat, City of Bangor, bound for the “Hub.”

“Where will you anchor, Frank?” asked Bart Hodge, approaching Merry.

“Beyond the steamboat wharf where that fleet of small boats and yachts are anchored.”

Clang-clang! clang-clang! The bell on the steamer suddenly rang, and Frank knew what the signal meant.

“She is going to swing off from the wharf,” he said. “It is high water, so I will hold inshore and let her go outside.”

The steamer’s paddle wheels began to revolve, and she swung round at the southern end of the wharf, straining at the huge cable that held and turned her. It took some time for her to turn, but a sudden toot from her whistle told that at last she was ready to go ahead. Then the cable was flung off and the great boat glided down the harbor.

A stream of teams and human beings were leaving the wharf and climbing the hill into the city, but on the wharf remained a group of young men and boys, all dressed in bicycle suits. They seemed to be watching the White Wings with remarkable interest.

“Wonder why those cyclists are watching us?” said Diamond.

“I was wondering about the same thing,” admitted Frank.

Then a youth was seen to climb on the piles at the corner of the wharf. He stood up straight and cried:

“Ahoy, the yacht!”

“Ay! ay!” answered Frank, giving the wheel over to Hodge.

“Is that the White Wings?”

Those on the wharf could not see the name on the stern of the yacht.

“It is.”

“Frank Merriwell in command?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you going to stop at Belfast?”

“We are.”

“Then the Belfast Wheelmen will be honored to entertain Mr. Merriwell while he remains in our city. Will he be kind enough to come ashore as soon as possible? If so, we will wait here for him.”

“Great Scott!” muttered Frank. “How did they know I was coming? This is too much! They made it altogether too interesting for me at Camden and Rockland, and it begins to look as if there is to be a repetition of it here. I’d rather not be known at all.”

“But you can’t help it now,” said Hodge, who was proud of Frank’s fame and popularity. “It won’t do to refuse their polite offer.”

“Don’t refuse,” grunted Browning. “They’ll have something good to eat.”

“Py shimminy!” gurgled Hans. “Dot peen vot you vant. I vos hungry enough to ead a raw tog alretty.”

“The rest of us are not invited,” said Diamond, quickly. “It’s only Frank.”

“Vale, maype he vould slip a piece of bie his bocket indo uf he knew id vould safe my life.”

“Will Mr. Merriwell come ashore?” asked the spokesman of the bicyclists.

“Say yes, Frank,” murmured Hodge. “Tell them you will do so as soon as we drop anchor.”

Frank did so, and a cheer went up from the wheelmen assembled on the wharf.

With this gathering were several girls in riding suits, and other girls and young ladies watching, making it evident that Frank and his friends had been expected.

The White Wings swung in near to the other yachts anchored in the harbor, her anchor went over and her sails came down smoothly. Then Frank got into the small boat, and Diamond and Hodge rowed him over to the wharf where the cyclists awaited him. They gathered around him as he came up the step onto the wharf, and the one who had hailed the yacht grasped him by the hand, saying:

“You are Mr. Merriwell, I presume?”

“That is my name,” smiled Frank.

“Mr. Merriwell, I am delighted to know you. We are all delighted. My name is Dustan—Howard Dustan. These gentlemen are members of the Belfast Bicycle Club. We heard you were coming. There was a Camden man on the City of Bangor, which passed you on its way here from Searsport, and he reported that you were headed this way. It didn’t take long to get the boys together when they learned that Frank Merriwell was coming in here. Let me introduce them to you.”

So Frank was introduced to each of the lads in gray as they came forward.

“Gentlemen,” he laughed, in his charming way, “I assure you this is an unexpected pleasure. It will be a long time before I shall forget my reception in Belfast. I am glad to know you all.”

“And we are glad you did not slight us by skipping Belfast,” said Mart Woodock. “We heard you were in Camden and Rockland, but, as you left there more than a week ago, we thought you were not coming to Belfast. You will find just as good people here as there are in the State of Maine.”

“I haven’t a doubt of it,” bowed Merry; “and I am charmed with the people of Maine. It is my first visit this way, but I am sure it will not be my last.”

Then he uttered a sudden exclamation of surprise and sprang toward the door of the freighthouse.

CHAPTER II
MERRIWELL MEETS HIS FOE.

All were surprised by Merriwell’s sudden move.

Frank had seen a person appear in the open door of the freight house, look at him, and then dodge back. Although he obtained but a glimpse of this person, Merry fancied he knew him.

Into the doorway he sprang, and looked around. On every hand were boxes and barrels and piles of freight, but no one was to be seen. The opposite door was standing open.

“Must have dodged out that way,” muttered Frank, and he darted toward the door.

But when he reached the door, he looked in vain for the person he fancied he had seen.

“My eyes may have fooled me,” he said.

He had been followed by several of the cyclists, and they were staring at him in amazement. He saw that he must make some explanation, or they would think him deranged.

“It’s all right,” he laughed. “I fancied I saw a person that I know. He appeared there in the doorway, and then retreated into the building. I may have been mistaken.”

“You must have been,” said Mart Woodock.

“Come out and meet the girls,” said Howard Dustan. “They are waiting to be introduced.”

So Merry was escorted into the presence of the girls and introduced to each one in turn.

“We had begun to believe you were not coming to Belfast at all, Mr. Merriwell,” said a vivacious little blond named Mabel Mitshef, but called “Mabel Mischief” by her friends.

“I came near missing Belfast,” acknowledged Frank; “but, after going to Bar Harbor, I learned something about this place that made it seem very attractive to me, and so I decided to come here. Already I am satisfied that the stories I heard about Belfast are true.”

“My!” cried Mabel. “You make me curious. I wonder what stories you could have heard?”

“Well,” smiled Frank, “I heard that Belfast had the prettiest girls of any place on the Maine coast.”

This threw the girls into confusion, but Mabel had sufficient presence of mind to say:

“If you came here because of those stories, I hope you will not be disappointed, Mr. Merriwell.”

“If the girls I have already seen fairly represent the fair sex of Belfast, I am sure I shall not,” bowed Frank.

Frank’s back was turned toward the freight house door, so he did not see the hateful eyes which peered out at him. The owner of those eyes drew back in a moment, muttering:

“Yes, it is Merriwell—curse him! I dodged him just in time. He would have seen me if I hadn’t hidden amid those boxes. He must not see me now.”

The speaker was Parker Flynn, who claimed to be the rightful owner of the yacht, White Wings, and who had made a desperate attempt to capture her by force in Rockland harbor ten days before this story opens.

Flynn wore a bicycle suit, and he quickly stole out of the freight house by another door, found a wheel outside, mounted it and rode away swiftly.

In the meantime Frank was chatting with his new friends, fascinating them by his wit and easy manners. They had heard much of him, and not one of them was disappointed in his appearance.

“Mr. Merriwell,” said Dustan, “I took care to bring along a wheel for you when I heard you were coming into the harbor. Of course, I took a chance about fitting you, but I have the best wheel to be found in the city, and I think it can be adjusted to suit you, if it is not right.”

“But I have my yachting suit on.”

“Never mind. I have trouser guards.”

“Still I do not fancy riding this way. If I am to be escorted into the city by the Belfast Wheelmen, I will wear a riding suit. I have one on board, and can get into it in fifteen minutes. Of course, I do not wish to keep any of you waiting if you——”

“That’s all right!” cried several.

“Go ahead and get your suit,” nodded Dustan.

Diamond and Hodge had remained in the boat awaiting orders from Merry, and now he hastily descended the stairs and stepped into the boat.

“To the yacht,” he said.

Away they went, the two oarsmen pulling with such grace and skill that they won the admiration of those watching from the wharf.

“What’s up, Merry?” asked Jack, eagerly.

“The Belfast Wheelmen are here to meet me, and they are going to escort me into the city.”

“Well, how in the name of all things wonderful did they know you were coming—for they must have known it?”

“You know the City of Bangor passed us just outside the harbor as she was coming in on her way down river.”

“Yes.”

“Well, there was a Camden man on her, and he saw us.”

“Is that the way of it?”

“Sure. He recognized the White Wings, and, as soon as the steamer reached the wharf, he told them we were coming. Then there was a hasty gathering of the wheelmen to meet us. That is how it came about.”

“Why are you going back to the yacht?”

“To get into a riding suit. They have a wheel for me, and I am to ride up into the city with them.”

“Say!” burst impulsively from Diamond, “these people down this way are too much for me! I don’t understand it! I thought we’d find a lot of farmers and woodsmen, and I didn’t dream we’d ever run into anyone who had heard of you, Merriwell. Instead of that, they seem to know all about you, and they are ready to give you a royal welcome wherever you go. Bar Harbor was the only exception, and I will bet there are persons there who know all about you. They didn’t know you were in town, that’s all.”

“How about Green’s Landing?”

“Oh, that’s different. That place is situated so far from the mainland that——”

“It has regular steamboat connections with the mainland, and the daily newspapers reach it, but——”

The boat softly touched against the side of the yacht, and Frank did not wait to say anything more. Over the rail he went at a bound, and hurried down into the cabin.

“Eh?” grunted Browning, rising up from a bunk. “Back so soon? What for?”

“To see if you are helping Hans get things trimmed up,” said Frank.

“I am,” declared the lazy fellow, settling back comfortably. “I am looking after things down below here, while he attends to things on deck.”

Frank laughed. It was like the big fellow, who really seemed too lazy to draw a breath without an effort.

With skill that would have done credit to a “lightning change artist” in a variety show, Frank got out of his yachting suit and leaped into his bicycle suit. Then he pulled on a Yale sweater, brushed his hair, caught up his cap, and hurried on deck.

Jack and Bart were waiting. Frank did not hurry after appearing on deck. With the utmost deliberation, he looked around, gave some orders, and then walked to the rail and got into the boat.

Arriving at the wharf, Dustan met him at the head of the stairs, laughing.

“How you did it so quick I can’t tell, and still you seemed in no particular hurry.”

They went round to where the wheelmen and girls were waiting. The bicycle brought for Frank was new and a beauty. Merry tried it, and, to his surprise and satisfaction, it seemed to fit him perfectly.

“It doesn’t need adjusting,” he said.

“We have a hard hill out here,” said Woodock. “Some of us can’t climb it. There are but two girls in town who can do it, and they are with us.”

“You will ride with me at the head of the party,” said Dustan, speaking to Frank. “Miss Mischief and Miss Hazle will ride with us. They are the ones who can climb the hill.”

“Perhaps I can’t climb it,” smiled Frank.

“I think there is no danger of your failing.”

They started. From choice it seemed Mabel Mischief rode at Frank’s side, chatting with Hattie Hazle, who was next to her. Hattie had dark eyes and hair, presenting a strong contrast to the lively blonde.

The hill proved to be rather steep and difficult, but Frank and Dustan pedalled up it without permitting their wheels to falter or sway on the steepest grade. The girls found it more difficult, but they stuck to it persistently till they accomplished the ascent.

Looking back, it was found that more than half the party was trundling the wheels, so those who had ridden up dismounted and waited for the others.

With the hill behind them, the party was formed again, and then they rode along the elm-shaded streets into the business portion of the city.

“Will you ride about the city, or shall we go directly to the club rooms?” asked Dustan.

“I would enjoy seeing something of the city.”

“That will suit us.”

So they rode about the place, and Frank was pleased with its general appearance.

At last they arrived at the club rooms of the Belfast Wheelmen, and there the girls left them, Mabel and Hattie bidding Frank good-by, but expressing a hope that they might see him again.

Dustan led the way into the club rooms, and Merry followed. Just as Frank was entering, a person attempted to come out hurriedly and brush past him.

With an exclamation of satisfaction, Frank grasped this individual, holding him fast.

“Wait a minute,” cried Merry. “I think I know you!”

“Leggo!” snarled the man.

“In a moment. Ha! I thought as much! I saw you down at the wharf, but you dodged me. We have met again, Mr. Parker Flynn!”

With a savage curse, the man struck straight at Frank’s face.

“Look out!”

Dustan tried to catch Flynn’s arm, but was not quick enough.

“All right.”

Frank dodged the fist of his foe.

“Blazes!”

Flynn snarled out the word, trying to recover and strike again.

“No, you don’t!”

With a twist and a snap, Merriwell flung the desperate fellow against the wall and held him there, despite all his struggles.

“Break away!”

Mart Woodock tried to part them, but was prevented by Dustan, who spoke swiftly and sharply:

“Let them alone! Merriwell knows what he is doing.”

“But—but——”

“He can handle Mr. Flynn.”

“Flynn is our guest. We can’t see him misused.”

“There is no danger that I will misuse him, gentlemen,” cut in Frank, still holding the fellow against the wall. “I have not offered to give a blow in return for his.”

“He attacked me—he assaulted me!” cried Flynn, in a half whine. “I never did anything to him. I call on the members of this club for protection.”

“You do not need it, Flynn,” said Frank, “for you are in no danger.”

“Then let me go.”

“In a minute. First, I want to tell these gentlemen just who and what you are. I know you.”

“And I know you!” hissed the rascal, his face growing dark. “You are a thief! You were arrested as a thief in Rockland! You can’t deny it!”

“I was arrested——”

“Hear that! hear that!” shouted Flynn, triumphantly. “He confesses it! He owns that he was arrested!”

“I was arrested on a warrant sworn out by you,” admitted Frank, quietly. “I do confess that.”

“That’s enough.”

“Perhaps so. Why didn’t you stay and prosecute me? Why did you take to your heels and fly from Rockland?”

“Business——”

“Business caused you to run away, eh? Tell the truth! You knew I had sworn out a warrant against you, charging you with an attempt to capture my yacht by force in Rockland harbor.”

“I didn’t care for that. It’s not your yacht. It’s mine.”

“Indeed! Then why didn’t you remain in Rockland and recover possession of it by legal means? You claimed to have bought it of a man who is now in an insane asylum. You fancied Benjamin, of whom I purchased it, was on his way to Alaska. When you discovered that Benjamin was in Rockland, you were so frightened that you lost not a moment in running away.”

“It’s a lie! I didn’t care anything about Benjamin. The White Wings belongs to me, and I will have her sooner or later. I am not talking through my hat, either.”

“If you don’t let it alone, you will land in prison. I shall not fool with you. I can push you now if I wish, but I’ll be satisfied in exposing you. You have been a guest here. It is plain you have had the freedom of the club. I scarcely think you will be admitted in the future, for I brand you as a rascal and a ruffian unfit for the society of gentlemen.”

Flynn turned crimson, and then he became ashen pale, while his eyes gleamed redly and his features betrayed the terrible fury that possessed him.

“All right!” he said, his voice being husky with anger. “I’ll make you sorry for it. I have said all along that I was not done with you.”

“The best thing you can do is to get out of Belfast and this State in a hurry.”

“Oh, I’m not frightened!”

“I may swear out another warrant against you.”

“Go ahead!”

“If I do, I can shove you. I have witnesses.”

“Your own gang, and they will swear to anything you want ’em to. Let go—let go, I say! Take your hands off!”

“Steady!” and Frank again pinned him against the wall, despite his struggles, holding the man with an ease that astonished the witnesses. “I will let you go when I am ready—not before. I am not done talking to you.”

Flynn’s anger was terrible to see. His eyes glared and he actually frothed at the mouth. At that moment he looked as if he longed to annihilate Merry.

The fellow stopped struggling, but suddenly he drew something from beneath his coat—something that flashed.

“Look out, Merriwell!”

Now Woodock tried to catch hold of the fellow, but Flynn struck at Frank with that bright thing, and Merriwell dropped to the floor, with a gasping exclamation.

“He’s stabbed!” shouted Dustan, horrified.

Clang!

The knife fell from Flynn’s hand to the floor. The ruffian stared down at Frank a moment, and then he whirled toward the door.

“Stop him!”

Howard Dustan shouted the words.

“Don’t try it!” grated Flynn.

One of the spectators did try it, however.

Out shot Flynn’s fist. Smack!—it struck the fellow fairly in the mouth, knocking him down.

The desperate rascal leaped over the one he had struck down and was outside in a moment. His wheel was there. Onto it he leaped, his feet found the pedals, and he shot away.

“He’s killed Merriwell!”

“I—think—not,” gasped Frank, speaking with difficulty. “He’s simply—knocked the wind—out of—me.”

Then he sat up, with his hands pressed to the pit of his stomach.

“Why, he stabbed you there!” exclaimed Dustan.

“Don’t think so,” said Merriwell, with a rueful smile. “He came near it. Belt buckle turned knife. He meant to do it, all right. Took me by surprise. I was to blame. Wasn’t on guard. Blow knocked wind out of me—that’s all.”

“Thank Heaven for that! I thought he had done you up. But he meant to, and that was a crime! After him, fellows! Don’t let him get away! Thomaston prison is good enough for him!”

Already two or three had rushed out and started in hot pursuit of the fugitive, raising an outcry on the street. They soon disappeared.

Merriwell arose, looking thoroughly disgusted.

“I was not smart, or he’d not taken me by surprise like that. Wasn’t looking for that kind of a blow.”

“You can thank fortune he didn’t murder you,” said Dustan. “Why, I never saw anything like it! He struck like a snake!”

“He is a snake. It surprised me to find him here.”

“Don’t blame us. He had papers that showed he belonged to two of the leading cycling clubs of Boston. He is a smooth talker, and he literally talked his way in here. Woodock seemed to take to him, for some reason, and they were friendly. He is pursuing him now.”

“Well, Mr. Flynn left something behind to remember him by,” smiled Frank, picking up the knife. “I believe I will keep this.”

“Tell us everything about your trouble with him, if you really were not harmed by that knife,” urged one of the wheelmen.

Examination showed a dent in the buckle of Frank’s belt, but his clothes were not cut and he was entirely uninjured, although, as yet, he had not fully recovered his wind.

When he could talk with ease, Merry told how he had seen Flynn the first time shortly after taking possession of the White Wings in Boston, how Flynn had showed a bill of sale for the yacht, made out to him by Fergus Fearson, a former owner, and how the encounter had ended in the discomfiture of Flynn, as Frank had proved the bill of sale was dated nearly ten days after Fearson sold the yacht to Jack Benjamin, of whom Merriwell purchased it.

Flynn had sworn to have the yacht, and, as the White Wings was entering Rockland harbor one foggy morning, several days after the encounter in Boston, the claimant and some fellow rascals had tried to take possession of her by force, one of the gang pretending to be Sheriff Ulmer.

Frank had not been fooled, and he demanded to see their authority. As they could show none, they were warned not to attempt to board the White Wings.

They did attempt it, however, but were repulsed by Frank and his friends and forced to retreat.

Then came the arrest of Frank on his appearance in Rockland, but Flynn had discovered the presence of Benjamin in the Limerock City, and then he had not stopped to prosecute, but had quickly and discreetly disappeared.

“The boys will catch him,” said Dustan, with confidence. “You can put him behind the bars, Mr. Merriwell, and you must do it.”

But, to the surprise of all, the pursuers returned after a time, coming back in a body, and announced that the fellow had given them the slip. He had ridden like the wind, turning corner after corner, and they had followed as hotly as they could. At last they came up with a rider they believed their man, but found it was another person. In some way he had dodged them after turning a corner.

Dustan looked angry.

“That was beastly luck!” he exclaimed. “But we’ll catch the fellow, Mr. Merriwell, I promise you that. He assaulted you here in our rooms, and we shall feel it our duty to see that he is arrested. Come with me, and I will take you where you can swear out a warrant against him.”

“I do not fancy that will do any good,” said Frank. “He thinks he stabbed me, and he will not stop till he has left Belfast far behind. You’ll not see him around here again.”

“You are right,” nodded Dustan; “but we can put an officer on the track of him. We’ll run him down.”

“It isn’t worth while, for it will cause me a large amount of trouble. I shall have to appear against him and testify, and I do not wish to take the time for that. He will not trouble me again, so I will let him go.”

“It’s your affair,” said Dustan, “so you may do as you like, but no person can try to stab me and get off so easy.”

By this time it was known on the street that an encounter had taken place between two guests of the wheelmen, and the report that one of them had tried to stab the other was enough to provide a fertile topic for conversation.

But when it was known that the one murderously assaulted was Frank Merriwell, the famous star twirler of the Yale baseball team, the tongue of gossip wagged freely.

A crowd gathered in front of the building in which the club rooms were located. The greater part of the crowd were boys and young men, and their conversation showed that every one had heard of Merriwell and all were eager to see him.

One of the club members came in after passing through the crowd, and he was laughing.

“I was not aware you were so well known in Belfast, Mr. Merriwell,” he said. “Those youngsters out there are wild to get a peep at you. I just heard one of them say you were a bigger man than the President of the United States.”

Frank blushed.

“By Jove!” he exclaimed. “If this thing keeps up, I’ll have to travel through Maine in disguise. Had to get out of Camden because I was too well known.”

“They are talking about your famous double shoot. I wonder how that story started.”

“What story?”

“Why, the story about that double curve. Of course, there may be an out drop, or something like that—in fact, we know there is such a thing. But a double curve that consists of an in and an out is an utter impossibility.”

“Why an impossibility?” smiled Frank.

“Because there is no scientific explanation of it.”

“There is no scientific explanation of any shoot.”

“What is that? Why, it can’t be that you mean to tell me that, Mr. Merriwell?”

“Mr. Wallace is an authority around here on baseball, Mr. Merriwell,” said Howard Dustan, quickly.

Frank bowed.

“Do you claim to explain the science of shoots and curves, Mr. Wallace?” he asked.

“Why, it is simple enough,” assured Wallace, boldly. “What astonishes me is to hear a college man like you, reputed to be a great pitcher, declare there is no scientific explanation of shoots.”

“You think I should be able to explain them?”

“Certainly.”

“I am not. What is more, never yet have I met a pitcher who could. I have met several who have tried it, but they tripped themselves and showed their own ignorance before they had finished. If you can explain shoots, I shall be very pleased to listen.”

“Why, it seems easy enough. If a ball leaves the pitcher’s hand so that it is whirling swiftly, the resistance of the air is bound to cause it to deviate from a straight course. I should think anyone might understand that.”

“That seems simple enough,” confessed Frank, still smiling. “It might seem to explain the ball that curves gradually and regularly, but it does not explain any shoot. If you have followed baseball closely, Mr. Wallace, you have thousands of times seen balls which left the pitcher’s hand and seemed to shoot straight ahead for more than two-thirds of the distance to the batter. Then you have seen them give a sudden jump or shoot to one side or the other. Indeed, some of these shoots are so sudden that the ball almost seems to make an angle in the air, instead of a curve. I am afraid you will find it difficult to apply your explanation to that kind of a ball.”

Wallace looked somewhat bewildered.

“I have not thought much on that point,” he confessed.

“I have,” said Frank, “and so have thousands of intelligent persons. Thus far not one of them can give a satisfactory explanation of the odd shoots of a ball. They say it is the way the pitcher takes hold of the ball—the way it leaves his hand. That is true. But it frequently occurs that two pitchers take hold of the ball in a manner entirely dissimilar to throw the same curve. They do not deliver it in the same manner, and yet the ball curves the same. They know that by taking hold of it just so and throwing it with just such speed they can obtain a certain curve; but ask them to explain why the ball curves and you will see some very puzzled gentlemen. You say the whirling motion of the ball, resistance of the air, and so forth. It may be you are right, but explain the shoot. Photographers have tried to catch it so they could see just how it curves in the air. Thus far these attempts have not proved satisfactory. Fame awaits the man who first explains the shoot and makes his explanation convincing.”

The club members had gathered around to hear what Merriwell was saying. They were greatly interested.

“Still,” said Wallace, “you would not have us believe that, on one delivery, a ball can commence to curve one way and then reverse and curve the other?”

“Really, sir, I am indifferent whether you believe it or not. I know such a thing happens. I know that I can throw the double shoot when I am in good condition and feeling just right. I know I take hold of it in a certain manner, give my arm a certain swing, and my wrist a snap. The ball starts out straight, shoots one way and then reverses and shoots the other. I am not the only one who can pitch that ball. I first saw it pitched by a Maine man, Billy Maines, of Windham. Then I set about trying to get it, and, by the merest accident, I hit upon it. I have tried to show other good pitchers how to throw it, but they are not persistent enough—they get discouraged after a while and give it up. But there is something more wonderful than the in and out double shoot.”

“What can it be?”

“A rise with a drop on the end of it.”

“What? You don’t mean to say anybody can pitch a ball like that?”

“I believe there is a man in the National League that claims to do it. Those who have seen him work say he really does pitch such a ball.”

“Impossible! The only drop it can have is the one given it by natural gravitation.”

“I know it seems that way, but they say his ball rises steadily after leaving his hand till it is more than two-thirds of the distance to the batter, and then takes a most remarkable down shoot. It is said to be a wicked ball to hit.”

“Well,” said Wallace, “I shall take no stock in such yarns till I am convinced by the evidence of my own eyes—and then I don’t know as I could believe it.”

“It is plain that you are prejudiced, and any man will waste his time who tries to convince you. There are hundreds of people in the country to-day who will not believe it possible to throw any kind of a curve. Some of them will not be convinced. They are not worth wasting time upon.”

With that Frank turned away. Wallace paled and pressed his lips together, for he felt that Merriwell’s final words were a thrust at him.

Mart Woodock slipped up to Wallace and muttered in his ear:

“That fellow thinks he knows it all. He makes me sick!”

“Well, I’m not stuck on him myself,” sulked Wallace. “I do not fancy being given even a mild calling down by such a chap as he.”

Then they drew aside by themselves and talked in low tones.

CHAPTER III
BACK TO THE YACHT.

If Frank had accepted, he and his friends would have been taken care of at the best hotel at Belfast without finding it necessary to pay a cent for accommodations. The Belfast Wheelmen assured him that the city was his. He could take what he wanted, and they would settle the bill.

But Frank explained that the accommodations on board the White Wings were sufficient and he preferred staying on board, as he could watch his yacht. He did not wish to take chances of losing it, and it was possible Flynn might make another desperate attempt to take it.

He was invited to accompany the club on an evening run to Northport, and accepted. They told him to bring along any of his friends who wished to go, saying wheels would be furnished for all.

When he left the club he was forced to pass through the throng outside the door. As he appeared, a voice exclaimed:

“There he is!”

Then there was considerable pushing, and a small boy shouted:

“Hooray fer Frank Merriwell! He’s a jim-hickey!”

A yell went up from the boys.

Frank laughed and bowed.

“Why don’t ye come down here to live?” piped a little fellow. “Then Belfast could git inter the league an’ beat anything on top of the earth.”

“Clear out, you young rascals!” cried Howard Dustan. “Don’t you know better than to block the way!”

He started to drive them back, but Frank quickly interfered.

“That’s all right, Dustan,” he said. “They are not in my way. Let them alone.”

“That’s him!” shrilled a youngster with a freckled face. “That’s jest like Frank Merriwell. He don’t never try ter crowd nobody off’n the earth.”

Frank passed through the crowd, and, accompanied by Dustan, walked along the main street. It did not seem so remarkable that the town of Camden had given him so much attention, but he was surprised when he found himself regarded with equal interest in Belfast. Men turned to look at him, and pretty girls gave him curious and admiring glances as they passed.

As they turned from the main street toward the steamboat wharf, Dustan said:

“Here is the Windsor Hotel. We will meet here this evening at seven o’clock for the run down to Northport. It is not far, but we can spend a pleasant evening at Northport and start back by ten o’clock. Bring any of your friends who wish to come. We’ll try to make it pleasant for you.”

Frank expressed his thanks and promised to be on hand.

Dustan walked all the way to the wharf.

Diamond was watching for Merry, and saw him descending the hill. Then he got Hodge into the boat, and they were at the wharf waiting for Frank when he arrived.

Frank introduced Dustan, who was urged to go off to the yacht.

“I can’t do so this afternoon, gentlemen,” said Howard; “but I’ll be pleased to do so to-morrow. I’ve got to go home and get ready for this evening.”

So, shaking hands with Merry, he turned and hastened away.

“How does Belfast strike you, Merry?” asked Diamond.

“It’s a great town as far as hospitality goes. Why, the Belfast Wheelmen wanted to lodge us at the best hotel in the city and pay all of our bills while we remained.”

“Don’t tell Hans,” said Hodge. “He will have a fit if you don’t accept.”

Hans was on deck, and he hailed them before they reached the yacht.

“Did you got dot biece uf bie, Vrankie?” he asked.

“What piece of pie?”

“Why, der von I toldt you to put your bocket indo.”

“I haven’t seen any pie, and I am back here to be fed.”

“Shimminy Gristmas! vot vos der madder mit you, ain’d id?” squawked the Dutch boy. “You don’d vant to ate der crub vot vos on poard this yocht uf ven you can got a sqvare meal der shore on, do I?”

“You didn’t suppose I would eat on shore and leave you here to wear your teeth out on canned stuff and hard bread, did you? Well, I am not that kind of a chap. What is good enough for you is good enough for me.”

“Py shimminy! I nefer looked at heem dot vay in pefore. You peen all righd, Vrankie, und I abbreciate your thoughtfulness-ness us of. Subber vill peen retty as soon as I can got id.”

Then Hans hurried below.

“He is satisfied now,” said Hodge. “You fixed him all right, Frank.”

The water of the harbor was as smooth as glass, for the afternoon breeze had died out with the declining of the sun. The deck awning had been erected on the yacht while Frank was absent, and Hans brought up the folding table and spread it beneath the awning.

Browning was in his bunk, sleeping like a log. When he was aroused by Merry, he grunted:

“I thought you were going ashore?”

“I have been ashore.”

“Well, why didn’t you stay a while?”

“I stayed more than two hours.”

“Hey? What sort of a jolly are you giving me?”

“No jolly at all. Turn out. You have been sleeping like a pig. I did think you were about as lazy as you could be before we started on this cruise, but you are getting worse and worse.”

Browning rolled out of his bunk and sat up rubbing his eyes.

It did not take Hans long to get supper ready, and they gathered about the table. As they ate, Frank told them of his adventure with Flynn. Diamond began to get excited as he listened, and he uttered a cry of rage when Frank told how the fellow tried to stab him.

“Look here, Merriwell!” said the Virginian, hotly, “what are you going to do about this?”

“Can’t do much,” said Frank. Then he told how Flynn took to his bicycle and got away.

“And you let him go?” boiled Diamond. “If any man had done such a trick to me, I’d pursued him round the world, but I’d given him his deserts!”

“Don’t doubt it,” smiled Frank. “If they had brought Flynn back, he’d been shoved.”

“Why not shove him anyhow?”

“I might, but it would make no end of trouble, you know.”

“Never mind the trouble. Give it to the whelp!”

“But it will spoil our trip down this way.”

“How?”

“I shall be forced to spend some time in pursuing the rascal, and, after he is caught, it will be necessary to have him tried. It will make no end of trouble and expense, and, by the time it’s all over, a good share of the time we have left during this vacation will be used up.”

“Never mind,” said Jack. “We can stand it. Shove him, Merry. It takes considerable time to arouse you, but you are a bad man when you get started. Now is the time to get started. Don’t you think so, fellows?”

“Oh, what’s the use to go to all that trouble?” said Bruce. “It won’t pay.”

The Virginian gave the big fellow a look of scorn, started to say something, cut himself short, and began eating in a manner that showed his disgust.

Frank told of the general invitation to accompany the wheelmen on the run to Northport.

“Who wishes to go?” he asked.

Hodge and Diamond expressed a desire to do so, while Hans said he would remain and look out for the yacht. Browning said he would stay with Hans.

After supper they lounged under the awning a while, and Browning, who had taken up smoking again, lighted a cigar.

“I am glad to see that isn’t a cigarette,” said Frank. “If you must smoke, smoke anything but cigarettes.”

It was past six when Hans set Frank, Jack and Bart ashore and then rowed back to the yacht, under the awning of which Bruce still lounged, apparently fully contented.

The trio walked up the street and arrived at the Windsor ahead of time.

Harold Dustan was waiting for them, and he said:

“Your wheel is ready for you, Mr. Merriwell. Will your friends go?”

“Yes, they thought they would enjoy it.”

“Then I will telephone to Woodock to bring two good wheels for them. No trouble at all. I made arrangements to provide five wheels, if necessary.”

He went into the hotel and telephoned for the wheels. Fifteen minutes later Woodock and Wallace arrived with the extra wheels, which Hodge and Diamond immediately adjusted to suit them.

The wheelmen gathered swiftly when seven o’clock arrived, and a few minutes after the hour struck the party started from in front of the hotel, with Dustan, Merriwell, Diamond and Hodge leading.

It seemed that all the boys of the city were on hand to watch them start, and the youngsters set up a great yelling as they rode away.

Along the pleasant street they pedaled in the cool shadows of the tall trees. Handsome residences were to be seen on either hand, and Diamond found a novelty in mentally contrasting them with the houses of the South. To him, despite the fact that the Northern houses were tasty and pleasant, there was something about a Southern dwelling that satisfied him far better. Had he been asked to tell just what that something was, he could not have done so, but he felt it was a certain distinctive air that belonged to the South. For a moment something like a strong feeling of homesickness swept over him. He remembered how little time he had spent at home since entering college, and a sense of guilt settled upon him. To himself he seemed half a traitor.

“But I am a Southerner still!” he mentally exclaimed. “Nothing can wean my heart from the South. The North is smart and bustling and pleasant, but it is not like my dear Virginia home. No matter where I may go, I know my heart will always turn back to Old Virginny.”

At length they came to the forks of the road where Northport Avenue began. Just as they reached the fountain at the forks, down from the other street came eight young lady cyclists, merrily ringing their bells. The boys answered in a similar manner as the young ladies approached.

Dustan explained that they were friends of the club members, and they were chaperoned by a young married woman whose husband belonged to the wheelmen.

Mabel Mischief and Hattie Hazle were with the party. They bowed to Frank. A flush came into Bart’s cheeks as his eyes rested on Mabel.

“Jove!” he muttered. “What a stunning girl!”

“Which one?” asked Merry.

“The one with light hair.”

“Keep away! I met her first.”

“Then I haven’t a show,” came ruefully from Bart. “I don’t suppose you will introduce a fellow?”

“Well, did I ever refuse anything of the kind? When the opportunity comes, I will introduce you.”

Bart watched for the opportunity. He saw Mabel and Hattie racing for the lead, laughing as they did so. Hattie won, and Mabel stopped trying, so that Frank soon was at her side. Then Bart pushed forward so that he was abreast of them and coughed. Frank took the hint, and the desired introduction followed. Bart lifted his cap gracefully.

Walter Wallace had kept his eyes on Mabel, and he muttered something under his breath as he saw the introduction. Then he pushed forward and spoke to her.

“Good-evening, Miss Mischief,” said Wallace. “I thought you said you could not come with us to-night?”

“I did,” she answered, laughing.

“But here you are.”

“Mother decided to let me come when she knew Mrs. Porter would be with us.”

“It seems to me that your mother is very particular.”

“She is. Excuse me. Mr. Hodge was speaking to me.”

“Hang Mr. Hodge!” muttered Wallace, under his breath. “I’d like to punch his head!”

Mabel chatted with Bart and Frank by turns, scarcely noticing Wallace, who grew more and more angry.

Northport Avenue was in fine condition, and that made the ride very pleasant.

Hattie Hazle was smitten by the appearance of Diamond, and it was not long before she found an opportunity to ask Dustan why he did not introduce Jack. She did this laughingly, saying it was rather awkward to find herself at times riding beside some one she did not know.

Dustan soon found an opportunity to introduce Jack, and Hattie chatted away to the Virginian in her artless way. Jack was polite and courteous, but not in the least effusive. He talked to the pretty girl at his side without giving her more than an occasional glance, which rather piqued her, for she was pretty, and she knew it. She was accustomed to admiration, and the Southerner’s rather distant manner was something new to her.

It was plain enough that Diamond was not bashful, and that was what aroused Hattie. Inwardly she resolved to win attention from him. She was a bright girl, and she began to sound Diamond, in order to find out as far as possible what his tastes were. She found he loved flowers, read Thackeray, Scott and Tennyson, admired handsome horses and dogs, and thought Frank Merriwell the finest fellow in the whole wide world. But, although she chatted intelligently of the things Jack liked best, she gave it up and rode forward a bit till she was beside Mabel.

“It’s no use,” she laughed, speaking so Mabel alone could hear, “I can’t make an impression on the Virginian. He is bullet proof. Wonder if all Southerners are that way?”

“I’ll chance it that he is in love,” laughed Mabel. “He must be!” exclaimed Hattie. “But even if he is, he’s the first fellow I ever saw who wouldn’t flirt a little.”

“And he will not flirt at all?”

“Not a bit!”

“Well, there are others.”

“Oh, Mabel!” exclaimed the dark-haired girl. “I thought you signed the pledge never, never to use slang again. Why, since I signed that pledge, slang gives me that tired feeling. I’m dead sore on anything like slang.”

And then Hattie wondered why Mabel laughed so merrily.

Mabel found an opportunity to ask Frank about Jack.

“Hattie says he acts as if he is in love,” laughed the light-haired girl. “Is it true? I know it is by the expression on your face! Oh, do tell us about it!”

“Yes, do!” urged Hattie, riding up on the other side of Frank. “I am awfully curious now. I am dead stuck on anything romantic.”

“How about slang, Hattie?” asked Mabel.

“Goodness! I forgot! You see, Mr. Merriwell, we have taken the pledge never, never to use slang any more, and you can bet we are going to keep it!”

Then, as both Frank and Mabel laughed, she realized what she said, and her face grew crimson.

“It’s awful!” she declared. “But we girls picked up those things at school, and we find it hard to get rid of them.”

“Tell us about Mr. Diamond,” urged Mabel.

“Yes, please,” entreated Hattie.

“You tempt me, girls,” confessed Frank; “but I do not believe in giving away a friend. Excuse me for that bit of slang, but nothing else seems to express my meaning so perfectly. I can tell you nothing of Mr. Diamond’s love affairs.”

“Then he has an affair?” exclaimed Hattie. “I knew it! Now I wonder if he is so constant that he absolutely will not flirt? If he is, he’s the first fellow I ever saw taken that way. You try him, Mabel.”

“I will if I get a good opportunity,” said Miss Mischief; “and then if he does flirt, I’ll tell him what I think of him. I’d like to find one fellow who would be constant.”

“I hope she doesn’t mean anything!” murmured Hodge, reddening somewhat.

“It seems to me she does,” laughed Frank.

Mabel found an opportunity to chat with Jack before Northport was reached. They came to a hill that was not particularly difficult, but she complained that her wheel ran hard, and said something was the matter with it. She asked Jack if he would not examine it, and so they dismounted at the foot of the hill.

Diamond looked over the wheel in a systematic manner, but could find nothing the matter with it. He got out his oiler and oiled it. Then Mabel said she did not feel like riding up the hill, so they walked up together, for the Virginian would not leave her.

Now, Mabel Mischief was the kind of a girl to attract the Virginian. Jack was dark and passionate, while she was light and gay. Without appearing to, she brought all her arts to bear on him in the short time given her to do so, but the result was not what she expected, for he did not seem at all impressed. On reaching favorable ground, he said:

“Now, Miss Mitshef, we can overtake the others in a short time.”

He did not even venture to call her Miss Mischief, although everyone else did so, but was particular to pronounce her name correctly.

“I do not like to ride fast,” she smiled, looking up at him. “We are in sight of them. What is the need of hurrying?”

“I didn’t know,” said Jack. “I thought you would enjoy being with your friends.”

“I am satisfied with present company,” she laughed.

Then he looked away, without appearing to hear her, and called her attention to the view, which was charming.

“You have beautiful scenery around here,” he observed, in a matter-of-fact way.

“Oh, very!” she said, somewhat sharply; “but I have seen it so much that I am tired of it. Let’s talk about something else.”

“If you like.”

“Don’t you think Hattie Hazle a pretty girl?”

“I believe she is.”

“You ‘believe so’! Why, didn’t you notice?”

“Not in particular.”

“Well, you are a queer fellow!”

“Am I?”

“Decidedly. Now, what sort of a girl do you admire most?”

“I—I’m sure I—I don’t know,” stammered Jack.

“There must be some girl somewhere who is your ideal. Think of her. Describe her.”

The face of the Virginian grew crimson, and he betrayed himself by his confusion.

“Really, Miss Mitshef,” he said, “I think the others are wondering where we are. I see them looking back.”

“It’s Wallace and Woodock who are looking back. Woodock annoys me and Wallace bothers Hattie. They will not let us alone.”

Then Jack suddenly straightened up, grimly saying:

“If they dare to annoy you during this ride, Miss Mitshef, they shall answer to me! A fellow who forces his attentions on a lady is no gentleman, and he deserves to be soundly whipped. If you need my assistance, I shall be ready to aid you in any manner possible.”

“Thank you, Mr. Diamond,” she said, with sincere gratitude. “I shall not forget your kindness.”

And then, strange to say, she was ready to ride forward and overtake the others.

CHAPTER IV
DIAMOND’S OPINION.

“Well,” said Hattie, eagerly, “what success?”

“Mr. Diamond,” said Mabel, with wonderful seriousness for her, “is a perfect gentleman and a splendid fellow. I am sure now that he is in love, and he will be true to the fortunate girl. There are not many fellows like him, and the girl who finds one is lucky.”

“Why, Mabel!” exclaimed the dark-haired girl, “I believe you are more than half in love with him yourself!”

Then Mabel was confused.

“Perhaps I am,” she finally said, with a defiant toss of her head. “Even if I am, I wouldn’t try to cut the other girl out. I have satisfied myself that he is constant, and that was what I was trying to do. Had he flirted with me, I was ready to give him a calling down.”

“Do you hear, Hodge?” laughed Merriwell. “Beware how you flirt with Belfast girls. They are liable to be fooling you all the time.”

“Why, I’ll not dare look at one of them after this,” said Bart, with an air of absolute seriousness.

“You must not be frightened so easily,” smiled Mabel. “Not every fellow is a Diamond.”

“That is complimentary for us,” said Frank, ruefully.

“Very!” nodded Bart. “It makes me feel jolly!”

“It makes me feel jollied,” declared Merry.

“Oh, you are a flirt by nature,” asserted Hattie, speaking to Frank. “You can’t help it.”

“This is growing jollier and jollier!” murmured Merriwell. “It is a very warm evening.”

“Just a trifle,” nodded Hodge. “This time Diamond has the start on you, Merry. He’s won the admiration of both of these girls without trying to do so.”

“Well, Miss Mischief,” said Frank, “you are right about Jack Diamond—he is a splendid fellow. He has his odd streaks, like anyone else. Sometimes he is petulant and almost offensive, but his heart is all right, and I never permit any of his moods to change my feelings toward him.”

“That’s right,” agreed Hodge. “Merriwell will stand more from Diamond than from any other fellow living. I don’t know why, but I do know that anybody else would have cut Diamond long ago.”

“Doesn’t he always come around right in the end?” asked Frank. “Among all my friends there is not a man who will fight for me quicker or harder than Jack Diamond. You know that, Bart.”

“Well,” admitted Hodge, reluctantly, “I suppose it’s only right to give the fellow his due, and I know he would lay down his life for you if necessary.”

Among all of Frank’s friends, Diamond was the only one for whom Hodge entertained real feelings of jealousy. He could not help being jealous of the Virginian; but, profiting by Merry’s example and teachings, he tried to crush the feeling out of his heart and be just with the Southerner.

In the cool shadows of a perfect summer evening they reached Newport, which is a summer resort at the present time, although it was originally a camp-meeting ground. Located at one of the most beautiful spots around Penobscot Bay, it was but natural that Northport should become something more than a place where a religious sect met to worship one week every year. From a small beginning it had grown to a village of handsome summer cottages and a first-class hotel, which are occupied all through the warm summer months, and is literally overflowing with visitors the last of August. Beyond the limits of the “camp ground” on the “South Shore” are various places of amusement, such as bowling alleys, billiard rooms and a dance hall, where dances are held at regular intervals through the season and every afternoon and evening during “camp-meeting week.” There is also a hotel on the South Shore and a host of cottages, owned by persons who do not care to be restricted at any season by the rules of the camp ground.

Northport is a place of gayety at the height of the season, and of the crowds that swarm there camp-meeting week, not one out of ten goes to attend the meeting.

Two miles to the south of Northport, at Temple Heights, is a spiritualist camp ground that is rapidly becoming a popular resort.

The Boston boat touches at Northport during the “season,” and a stage line connects with the railroad at Belfast, so the resort is easily accessible.

Many business men of Belfast own cottages at Northport and spend the hot summer months there, riding to and from the city, mornings and nights, on bicycles or the small steamer that makes several trips a day.

The cycling party from Belfast came down the curving road toward the Northport House, their bells ringing merrily. They made a pretty show in the dim evening light, even though they had not lighted their lanterns.

The girls went straight to a Belfast cottage, while the boys took their wheels to the Northport House, where they were cared for by attendants.

Diamond strolled away by himself. Merriwell went out upon the broad veranda of the hotel and looked away over the bay, where the moon was just rising.

On the green in front of the hotel some wandering musicians were playing “Kathleen Mavourneen,” and a hundred people were listening on the benches and the grass.

Hodge came out and stopped at Frank’s side.

“Jove, Merry!” he exclaimed, “this is fine! I’m glad we came.”

“So am I,” said Frank, softly. “Hush!”

He was listening to the music. It stirred a responsive chord in his soul.

“Beautiful!” he whispered, as the last sweet strains died away.

“Come,” said Hodge, brusquely. “Don’t get sentimental, old man. Let’s take a stroll together.”

“Wait. They are going to play again.”

The musicians played “O Promise Me,” and again Frank was thrilled. As they played, Merry softly sang:

“O promise me that some day you and I

Will take our love together to some sky——”

“Oh, say, come on!” impatiently exclaimed Hodge. “Let’s find the girls.”

“What girls?”

“Why, Miss Mischief and Miss Hazle, of course.”

“I was thinking of some other girls,” said Frank, quietly. “It seems but yesterday that we were at Fardale. Have you forgotten May Blossom, Bart?”

“Of course not!”

“I didn’t know. You seem greatly interested in these Belfast young ladies.”

“What’s struck you? Great Scott! are you preaching—to me? Why, you do not hesitate, when you see a pretty girl, to seek her society. You seem to forget Inza Burrage and Elsie Bellwood for the time. Oh, you can’t preach to me, old man! It won’t go down.”

Frank felt the blood rush to his cheeks.

“That’s all right, Hodge,” he said. “Perhaps I deserve this calling down from you. But my eyes have been opened somewhat to-day.”

“How?”

“By Hattie Hazle and Mabel Mischief.”

“In what way?”

“Those girls divined Jack Diamond’s secret. They discovered that he was in love.”

“Well?”

“They did not make a success of their attempt.”

“No.”

“What was the result?”

“I don’t know.”

“You heard Mabel Mischief express her sentiments. You heard her say how much she respected Jack. Up to that moment I had thought her frothy and thoughtless. Then I discovered that she did think and reason, and she opened my eyes, for she showed me how much respect a fellow commands who is constant to one girl. I met her first, Hodge, but I know that at this minute she thinks far more of Jack Diamond than she does of me.”

“What of that? There are others. And I didn’t suppose you were pledged to any girl, Merriwell.”

“I am not.”

“Then I fail to understand what the matter is with you. I know you admire Inza Burrage, and she thinks a great deal of you; but I also know that you like Elsie Bellwood just as well, and I think she cares more for you than Inza ever can. Those are not all the ones, either. There are other bright, smart girls whom you admire and respect. You are not engaged to any of them. What are you going to do while you are not in their society? Because you think a great deal of some girl, are you going to shun all others as if you were married and settled down?”

“Well, I can’t say that I ever have,” laughed Frank.

“No, and it’s too late to begin now. It’s all right for Diamond to do so if he wishes; but I think it is equally right for you to do as you have done in the past. The time will come some day, without doubt, when you cannot do so. Until that time does come, get all the pleasure out of life that you can, and what is more enjoyable than the society of an intelligent, charming and pretty girl?”

Frank was astonished by Bart’s words and manner, for it was seldom that Hodge expressed himself thus freely.

“That is good logic, old man,” he confessed, “but those musicians have awakened thoughts of a little girl with blue eyes and golden hair, and I don’t think I care for the society of either Miss Mischief or Miss Hazle at present. Let’s stroll down to the shore.”

They did so, and found Diamond sitting on some bowlders, looking off over the bay in the track of moonlight which seemed to lead toward Bar Harbor.

“There he is,” said Hodge. “Thinking of the girl at Bar Harbor, I’ll bet something.”

“How long have you been here, old man?” asked Merry.

“Less than a minute,” answered Jack. “Just stopped here. Isn’t the moonlight beautiful on the water?”

“It is, but when a fellow gets to watching the moonlight all alone by himself it means something. I think Hattie Hazle was right.”

“About what?” asked the Virginian, quickly.

“She said you were in love.”

Jack said not a word.

“And Mabel Mischief settled it. Two nice girls, eh? Jack?”

“Do you want my honest opinion of them?”

“Certainly.”

“Well, you know I am always very careful about what I say concerning the fair sex.”

“Yes.”

“I would not say this to anyone else, but I know neither you nor Hodge will repeat it. Those girls are bright enough and are pretty, but they are too forward. I think the bicycle is responsible for it, but I notice that girls who ride are likely to be that way.”

Immediately both Merriwell and Hodge protested.

“Not necessarily,” said Frank. “I know many young ladies who are just as much ladies since they have begun to ride as they were before. If a girl is inclined to be unladylike, it is possible that riding a wheel may give her more opportunities to show her real nature than anything else. But the wheel is not to blame. It simply shows the person’s real nature.

“And I take exceptions, Jack, to your statement that those girls are bold. They were pleased by your appearance, and they tried to make themselves agreeable to you. That’s all.”

“I may be wrong,” admitted Jack; “but it seemed boldness. I wouldn’t say so to anyone else. Do not repeat it for the world! It might reach their ears, and I’d rather do anything than say a word to hurt the feelings of a lady.”

But his words had already reached the ears of Mabel and Hattie, for the girls were sitting on a flat stone and leaning against a bowlder less than thirty feet away.

CHAPTER V
THE FIGHT ON THE BEACH.

As soon as Merriwell, Hodge and Diamond walked away, the girls arose and hurried from the spot.

“Oh, I could kill him!” flared Hattie.

Mabel said nothing.

They walked down the beach till they came to some steps that led up to an unoccupied cottage. They sat down on the steps.

“To think that fellow could say anything like that about us!” exclaimed Hattie, passionately.

“It is dreadful,” acknowledged Mabel.

“Dreadful! Why, it’s awful! He said we were bold! Oh! Ugh! How I hate him! How I hate him!”

“Don’t get so excited, Hattie.”

“Why, haven’t I every reason to get excited? Oh, I’d like to tell Mr. Jack Diamond what I think of him!”

Mabel sat still and looked out upon the water.

“He didn’t mean for us to hear it,” she said, after a time.

“But he said it! It’s just as bad!”

Pretty soon there was a queer sound in Mabel’s throat. Hattie looked at her in astonishment. Mabel was sobbing.

Above the bank there was grass on the ground, so the feet of two lads walking along there made no sound. They halted in amazement, looking down at the girls.

Hattie had placed her arm about her friend, and was trying to comfort her, saying swiftly:

“The wretch! How did he dare say it! He has broken your heart, Mabel! How can fellows be so mean!”

“It is Miss Mischief and Miss Hazle, Bart,” said Frank Merriwell. “Somebody has insulted them.”

“I’d like to punch the head of the fellow who would dare!” growled Hodge.

They heard him and looked up quickly. Then the boys were in a quandary, not knowing exactly what to do.

“We must pretend we did not know she was crying,” said Frank. “We must go down there, Bart.”

He whispered the words, and Hodge nodded. So they descended the bank, greeting the girls cheerfully.

“We have been looking for you,” declared Frank. “How fortunate we found you!”

“Yes, very fortunate,” said Hattie, a strange inflection in her voice. “We have something to say to you—something we wish you to tell a particular friend of yours.”

“Hattie, stop!” gasped Mabel. “Would you——”

“Yes, I would!” flashed Hattie.

“You mustn’t!”

“I must! Your friend, Mr. Diamond, expressed his opinion of us a short time ago.”

Frank was astounded and confused. For once in his life he did not know what to say. He wondered how these girls had learned what Jack said.

“Hattie, be still!” cried Mabel.

“Mr. Diamond was kind enough to say he thought us bold,” said Hattie. “And Mabel is crying over it.”

“I am so sorry,” said Frank, as he sat down on a stone at the foot of the steps. “Mr. Diamond would not have hurt Miss Mitshef’s feelings for the world. I assure you, he is a perfect gentleman, and——”

“He should not form opinions on such short acquaintance!” cried Hattie, still very angry. “He has no right to judge us!”

“I am afraid he has,” said Mabel, much to the surprise of all.

“What do you mean?” gasped the dark-haired girl. “It can’t be that you——”

“That’s what I cried over,” said Mabel, with a hysterical little laugh. “I knew Mr. Diamond spoke the truth!”

Bart Hodge staggered, and Frank caught his breath, while Hattie Hazle was speechless with astonishment.

“He had a reason to think me bold,” Mabel went on, swiftly. “I gave him that reason, for didn’t I do my best to flirt with him? A girl who does anything of the sort must expect the fellows to say she is bold. I don’t blame Mr. Diamond, for I know he did not say it to harm me, and he did not dream it would reach my ears. He was right! And he taught me a lesson. Folks have called me Mabel Mischief, and I have fancied I could do just as I pleased. Now I know I must be careful, for I am no longer a little girl. I owe Mr. Diamond a debt of gratitude.”

Hattie Hazle was quite overcome.

“Why, Mabel!” she said, “do you really mean it?”

“Of course, I mean it, Hattie. For the first time in my life I understand how my carelessness may be regarded by a stranger. In the future I shall be careful.”

“And you do not hate Jack Diamond?”

“No, for he spoke the truth.”

“Well, I declare!”

That was all Hattie could say. She had been very angry a short time before, but now she was bewildered. It was some time before she could see the matter in the same light as Mabel did, but, after a while, the light-haired girl convinced her that they had really given the Virginian every reason to say what he did. Then Hattie became very sober, and it was plain that she was meditating. She realized at last that her thoughtless conduct had given people opportunities to talk about her. And then, all at once, realizing her position, she jumped up, saying:

“Come, Mabel, let’s go to the cottage.”

As she turned around, she saw three persons who were looking down at them from the bank above.

“Oh, there they are!” exclaimed the voice of Walter Wallace. “You are right, Mr. Flynn, in what you said about Merriwell and his friends. They are up to their tricks. But we are three to their two, and now is our chance.”

“Come on, then!” urged the hoarse voice of Parker Flynn, and the trio came charging down the bank, the third one being Mart Woodock.

“Look out, Merriwell!” shouted Hodge.

But Frank was on his feet, ready to meet their assailants, and, a moment after, a savage battle was taking place there on the shore.

“Get away, girls—get away quick!” urged Frank. “If people come and find you here, your names will be drawn into this affair.”

The girls heeded the warning and ran away swiftly.

“Take that, you cur!” cried Hodge, striking Wallace fairly in the mouth. “You will find all the fight you want here.”

“Back to back, Bart!” hissed Merry. “It’s not the first time we have fought that way!”

Back to back they placed themselves, and they fought fiercely.

Parker Flynn was there, and he was eager to get at Merry. He held a large stone in one hand, and he watched his chance to strike Frank with it.

“I’ll crack his skull if I hit him right!” grated the fellow. “In a fight like this it would not count against me, for it would not be possible to tell who did the job.”

Frank was watching Flynn, for he knew the fellow was desperate, and would hesitate at nothing.

Woodock considered himself something of a fighter, and he did make it hot for Merriwell for a few moments; but Frank got in a blow that dazed the fellow and made him wary.

Hodge found Wallace not eager to follow him up, and this caused him to break away from the back-to-back program for a moment and leap toward Walter.

Smack!—Hodge landed with his left, and Wallace was stretched on the sand. Then Hodge sprang back to defend Frank’s rear.

Flynn fancied he saw his opportunity, and he made a rush to get at Frank from behind. As Hodge whirled into his position, the stone in Flynn’s hand came down on his head.

Without a cry or a moan, Bart dropped and lay still.

“The wrong one!” gasped Flynn, dropping the stone. “I’ve finished him, too!”

Then he wheeled suddenly and took to his heels.

CHAPTER VI
A NIGHT OF ANXIETY.

Wallace and Woodock both heard Flynn say, “I have finished him!” and they saw Bart stretched on the ground. When the ruffian took to his heels they did not waste much time in following his example, and the trio soon disappeared from view.

Finding himself alone with Hodge, Frank quickly knelt at the side of his fallen friend.

“Bart!” he anxiously exclaimed; “are you hurt much? Speak—answer me!”

But Hodge did not speak, and his face looked pale and ghastly in the white moonlight that streamed across the water.

A sudden fear seized Merriwell, for he, also, had heard the words of the ruffian, Flynn. Was Hodge dead?

Frank looked for a wound, but could find none. He would not have been surprised had he found the stones of the beach red with the blood of his friend.

Then he felt for Bart’s heart, but it seemed that there was not so much as a fluttering beneath his hand, and his fear turned to horror.

“He has killed Hodge!”

The words came in a hoarse gasp from Merry’s lips. And then, suddenly, he reproached himself.

“I was a fool!” he said. “If I had sworn out a warrant for the wretch and set an officer on his track, this would not have happened. I am to blame! Oh, but I will avenge my friend! I am aroused at last!”

Too late!

It seemed that the evening breeze whispered the words in his ear.

But the criminal must not escape.

At that moment several persons, attracted by the sounds of the conflict, came hurrying to the spot. They found Frank endeavoring to arouse Bart. To their questions Merriwell replied by telling them just what had happened and who were responsible.

“Why, it can’t be Walter Wallace who had anything to do with this!” exclaimed a Belfast man.

“He was concerned,” declared Merriwell; “but he is not the one most guilty. I do not fancy he knew one of his companions had murder in his heart. Find Parker Flynn. He is the one who must suffer for this!”

Then he described Flynn, and some of the men hastened away to give the alarm and attempt to apprehend the perpetrator of the deed.

Hodge was lifted and carried into the cottage. There did not seem to be a cut upon his head, but there was a contusion.

“A doctor must be summoned at once!” said Merriwell, who was becoming more and more alarmed.

“Perhaps Dr. Mann is somewhere on the ground. He comes down often. Send somebody to the hotel to look for him.”

But Dr. Mann was not on the ground. He had not come down from the city.

Every effort was being made to restore Bart, but he lay in a heavy stupor, although he was breathing and his heart could be felt fluttering irregularly.

Some of the wheelmen heard what had happened, and came to the cottage. Harold Dustan was on hand, and he said he would send a fast rider to the city for a doctor. This was done, but the doctor was out making a call, which caused some delay, as another one had to be summoned, and it was not easy to find one who wished to ride to Northport that night.

Till the physician arrived Frank Merriwell hovered over his friend. Diamond came, took one look at Hodge, and then plunged out of the cottage, muttering an oath of vengeance as he went. Frank knew the Virginian had gone to aid in the search for Flynn.

Neither Wallace nor Woodock could be found on the ground. They had appeared in breathless haste at the hotel and taken their wheels out. No one knew whither they had gone, but it was plain they had taken flight, overcome with terror.

The doctor examined Hodge, and set about doing everything possible to bring the unfortunate lad out of the stupor.

“How badly is he hurt, doctor?” asked Frank, anxiously.

“I do not know yet,” was the physician’s candid confession. “He should have come round before this. His skull may be fractured, but I do not think so.”

“If not, why does he remain in this stupor?”

“Perhaps his brain was injured by the shock. It is possible there is a blood clot forming on his brain.”

“If so——”

“We will hope it is not so.”

The manner in which the doctor uttered the words showed that he regarded the case as hopeless, if a clot should form on Bart’s brain. He had spoken plainly so that he might be understood.

“And all this came about through my negligence in letting that rascal alone!” thought Frank, reproachfully. “If I had set the officers after him when he tried to stab me in Belfast, Bart would not be there on that bed, dying, perhaps.”

Frank spent a night of acute torture. He reproached himself constantly.

Several of the wheelmen stayed at Northport, anxious to learn the result of the doctor’s efforts.

Toward morning Bart opened his eyes and looked around in a wondering way. Frank uttered a low exclamation of thankfulness, and would have spoken, but the doctor motioned for him to be silent, whispering in his ear:

“Wait. Let him speak first. Don’t shock him now.”

After some time Hodge muttered thickly:

“What’s the matter?”

“Now you may speak to him,” said the doctor.

“Is there anything I can do for you, old man?” asked Frank, gently.

“Do for me?” repeated Bart, vaguely. “What’s the matter? I’m in bed.”

“Yes.”

“My head——”

“You were hurt.”

“Hurt? How?”

“You were struck on the head, you know. Don’t you remember?”

“I almost remember. I knew something had happened. Now—I am beginning to remember! Flynn—he meant to do you!”

“And he struck you instead of me.”

“That’s it! I remember seeing him just as he struck, but I didn’t have time to dodge. He must have hit me a good one. Where is he?”

“Twenty men are hunting for him.”

“Hope they catch him! He ought to be hanged! Got to shut him up now, Merry, or he’ll do you next.”

“I think that’s right, Bart.”

“I know it. Ought to have done it before. He’s a bad one. I’m tired. I want to sleep. We’ll talk it over in the morning. Can I sleep here?”

“Yes, it’s all right. Sleep as much as you like.”

“All right. Good-night, Merry. You’re a brick! Don’t let Flynn do you up. I’ll stand by you, Merry. Good-night. I’m fagged out.”

His eyes closed wearily, and he slept.

“Will he be all right in the morning, doctor?” asked Frank.

“I think so,” answered the doctor; “but that was an awful blow. We can’t tell the result of it. He may never be in as good condition as he was before, but we’ll hope that he comes round all right.”

Frank was wearied. He wondered where Diamond could be, but he knew well enough Jack was doing everything in his power to catch Flynn.

Morning was not far away when Frank lay down upon a couch and fell asleep. He was exhausted, and he slept soundly till some time after the sun had risen. He was aroused by the owner of the cottage, who informed him that a boy had just said that he was wanted at the telephone in the hotel.

Bart was sleeping. Frank took one look at him, and then hastened over to the hotel. He was shown the ’phone. As soon as he spoke, a voice asked:

“That you, Merry?”

It was Jack.

“Yes,” answered Frank. “What do you want?”

“Want you to come to Belfast in a hurry.”

“What’s up?”

“I have Flynn located here.”

“Nab him!”

“Can’t do it very well till you swear out a warrant for him. I am watching him. Make time getting here, old man, and we’ll pinch the scoundrel. I will wait for you at the Windsor. Come on, now, and don’t let any grass grow under your bike.”

“All right. I’ll be there in a very short time. Don’t let Flynn get away.”

Bang!—up on the fork went the receiver. Ting-lingling!—Merry rang off. Scoot!—he made a rush for the room where the bicycles had been stored.

Three minutes later he carried his wheel out of the hotel. He mounted it in a moment, and away he flew up the little hill and out of sight on his way to Belfast.

Frank fairly flew over the dusty road. It was well for him that there was no law for scorching on Northport Avenue, for he was going like an express train when he reached that long, straight strip of road leading into Belfast. Behind him rose a thin cloud of dust picked up by the tires of his wheels.

Another thing that favored Frank was that it was early in the morning, and there were not many teams on the avenue. Around Belfast there had been so much riding that few horses minded a wheel more than they did another team, and Frank did not find it necessary to slacken speed for any of them he met.

People stared at him in amazement as he flitted past like the wind. They had seen fast riding, but never anything quite like this. Those who obtained a glimpse of his hard-set face and gleaming eyes were certain it was a case of life or death, and that he must be riding thus furiously for a doctor.

Into Belfast sped Merriwell. His one fear was that his enemy, the wretch who had struck Hodge down, would escape. He was determined now. Flynn should be punished as he deserved. Thomaston prison should hold the wretch. It made no difference that it would cost time and trouble to prosecute. Frank thought of Hodge lying in a stupor nearly all the night, of his anguish as he watched beside his faintly breathing friend, of the vows he had repeated, and there was not an atom of mercy in his heart. Indeed, he felt as if he had never known mercy for an enemy.

The bicycle sang its whirring song beneath him, and it seemed to urge him to still greater exertion. His heart swelled with a fierce longing to clutch and hold the wretch he sought. He pictured the satisfaction he would feel as he cornered the scoundrel.

As he approached the Windsor he saw Jack Diamond was there, and that caused his heart to leap, for he felt that Flynn had not escaped. Scarcely slacking the speed of his wheel, he made a flying leap, his feet struck the ground, he ran forward a few steps and stood before the Virginian, panting.

“Where is he?”

“Great Scott!” gasped Diamond. “How did you get here so soon? Didn’t expect you for ten minutes.”

Frank’s hand shot out, his fingers fastened on Jack’s shoulder, and he shook the Southerner, as he almost snarled:

“Where is he?”

“Steady,” cautioned the Virginian, who had been cautioned himself and held in check a hundred times by Frank. “He is right here.”

“Where?”

“Inside.”

“The hotel?”

“Yes.”

“Lead the way.”

“Wait a minute.”

“Not a second.”

“You must!”

“Why?”

“Where is your warrant? This man must be arrested in proper style. It won’t do to attempt to take him by main force without the proper authority.”

“And while we dinky around he may take the alarm and escape.”

“The door of his room is watched. I have Dustan on guard there. He can’t come out of that room without Dustan seeing him. He won’t get away, Frank. You are cool enough usually, but now——”

“All night I have watched beside the bed of a friend struck down by that devil, not knowing but that friend might die before morning. All my coolness was eaten away by the fury that gnawed at my heart. Sometimes I believe I would have killed Flynn without hesitation had I been able to reach him.”

Something like satisfaction filled the heart of Jack Diamond, for Merriwell’s general coolness and self-control had been exasperating to him more than once. He had felt that Frank was altogether too cool under exasperating circumstances, and he had almost doubted that the great Yale pitcher could be stirred and utterly controlled by his passions. Now, however, he saw that, for once at least, Frank Merriwell was betraying the same emotions any other fellow in his position might feel, and that gave Diamond absolute pleasure.

It seemed strange to the hot-blooded Virginian to be counseling caution and doing all in his power to hold Frank in check. It was a novel experience, and he realized that such a thing was not likely to happen again, so he made the most of it.

“The proper officers are waiting in the office of the hotel, Frank,” said Jack, quietly.

“What officers?”

“A lawyer, and——”

“What do I want of a lawyer now?”

“Why, you must have a warrant. The sheriff is there, also, and he will be able to serve the warrant as soon as you swear it out. I could have done this, but I thought it best to leave it all to you.”

“That was right,” said Frank, a change coming over him—a change that was so sudden that it startled Jack, for Merry seemed to suddenly become as cool as ice. “You have done well, Diamond. Let’s get to work in short order.”

Jack led the way into the hotel. As he had said, a lawyer and an officer were waiting in the office. Two or three others were present.

In short order Frank swore out a warrant against Parker Flynn, charging the scoundrel with assault with murderous intent. The paper was placed in the hands of the officer to serve.

Up the stairs they went, officer, Merriwell, Diamond, and two or three others. They approached the door of a room before which stood Harold Dustan.

“He hasn’t offered to come out,” said Dustan, softly. “I think he is asleep.”

Rat-tat-tat!—the knuckles of the sheriff beat a tattoo on the panel of the door.

No answer. All was quiet within that room.

Again the sheriff knocked loudly, but still there was no answer. He turned the knob and shook the door.

“Open this door!” he commanded.

Not a sound from within.

“Open it, in the name of the law!”

Even that failed to elicit a response.

Frank grew impatient.

“There must be a duplicate key,” he said. “Let’s have it.”

“I will get it,” said the clerk, and he started downstairs.

Frank knelt in front of the door and tried to peer through the keyhole, but he quickly said:

“There is a key in this lock on the inside!”

“Then he must be in there,” said Diamond. “It’s no use for him to play this kind of a game. We’ll have him soon.”

A sudden thought came to Merry. What if Flynn had committed suicide? The fellow was rattleheaded and desperate. Without doubt he drank heavily. No one could tell what such a man might do.

The clerk came with the key, but it could not be used. Again the sheriff demanded admittance, and again there was no answer.

“Break down the door!” said Frank.

“Wait!” cried the clerk—“wait till I find the proprietor!”

“I will pay for the door!” exclaimed Frank. “Go ahead, Mr. Officer.”

The sheriff set his shoulder against the door and gave a surge. Then there was a crash and the door flew open.

Into the room they went.

It was empty! Flynn was not there!

The window was open. Out of it dangled a rope. Frank leaped forward and looked out into the back yard.

“He’s gone!” cried Merriwell, fiercely. “He knew he was watched, and he has given us the slip!”

“What’s this?” exclaimed Jack, catching up a sheet of paper from the stand. “He’s left a note here.”

Then Diamond read aloud:

“I know this room is watched. You think you have me caught, but I will fool you. When I found myself watched, I came here and took this room, which I have occupied before, because I knew it would be easy to drop out into the back yard and give you the slip that way. But I am not done with Mr. Frank Merriwell. He has robbed me, and I will get at him yet. My time is coming.

“Flynn.”

CHAPTER VII
THE RUINED BRIDGE.

“I believe I am on the trail at last!”

Frank Merriwell uttered the words. It was two hours after Flynn’s escape from the Windsor, and a dozen persons had been searching for the man ever since.

Frank had found that Flynn, after restoring the hired wheel, in his possession, to the dealer of whom he had obtained it, had returned that very morning and bought the wheel outright, taking it away with him. This was at a time after he retired to the room in the hotel, and was, beyond a doubt, after his escape into the back yard.

Then Merry reasoned that the fellow had purchased the wheel to aid him in escaping from the city. Merriwell, Diamond and several of the Belfast wheelmen set out by different streets in the attempt to get on the track of the fugitive. Frank had ridden north, toward City Point, making inquiries as he went. At last he received information that led him to believe he was on the right scent.

Over the bridge and into the country beyond rode Frank. He found a man who had seen a bicyclist pass an hour before, and the description fitted Flynn.

At first the road was furrowed by many teams that had gone into the city that morning, and it was useless to look for the track of a bicycle. This made it necessary for Frank to halt many times to make inquiries, and he knew the fugitive was gaining on him if he were pushing on steadily.

“Never mind!” said Merry, with savage determination, “if I am on the right trail, I’ll never give up till I have run him down.”

Once or twice he proceeded some distance on the wrong road, and was forced to turn back and take another course. These mistakes were exasperating.

The sun rose higher and higher till it blazed down with crushing heat from almost directly overhead.

“Never supposed it would be so hot up here in this country,” muttered the pursuer.

But heat did not cause him to slacken his pace. He drove forward steadily, covered with dirt and perspiration.

All the forenoon he tracked Flynn. He was miles from Belfast, having passed through Waldo, Brooks, Monroe and other places. At noon he was in a hilly country, where the roads were rough and dangerous. He found where the man he was after had stopped at a farmhouse and eaten dinner.

Frank did not stop there. On the dusty road he could see the trail of the bicycle. It was plain enough now, and he did not need to ask questions. He knew he was riding in pursuit, for the track told him that, as the resistance of the air to the bicycle, and, in a lesser degree, the resistance of the roadway, caused furrows to appear on either side of the bicycle track, and those furrows formed an angle with the track of the bicycle in the direction in which it was going. Frank had discovered by observation that a bicycle could be tracked in the right direction on a dusty road with the aid of these telltale furrows, and now his knowledge stood him in good stead.

The intense heat continued, but in the northwest black “thunder heads” were pushing upward against the sky. Pretty soon the thunder began to mutter and rumble.

“A shower is coming,” thought Frank, “and it will blot out this trail. Can’t I overtake the fellow before the rain strikes?”

Onward he flew. He drove his wheel up a hard hill that was thickly wooded. When he reached the top he saw that the rain would soon strike him. Jagged flashes of lightning shot athwart the black clouds, which had risen till they were almost over his head.

He started to descend the hill, but had not gone far before he saw an old road that led off into the woods, and toward that road a single track turned out of the dust of the main highway.

Immediately he leaped from his wheel and quickly turned it into the old road.

“I am close upon him!” thought Frank. “Not a moment is to be wasted.”

He mounted again and drove onward, as fast as he could ride, over the unused road. Through a long opening amid the trees he caught a glimpse of another rider just disappearing from view.

“There he is!”

A terrible crash of thunder drowned his words. There was a hush in the woods—the hush before the storm.

The road grew steeper and steeper, but Frank rode at furious speed, for something told him there was danger that he would be given the slip once more by Flynn. Ahead of him the road curved out of sight, but he knew the foot of the steep hill must be near. He managed to keep his feet on the pedals, but did not try to hold the flying bicycle in check.

Round the curve he sped, and then a gasp of alarm escaped his lips, for directly ahead of him was a small river, and where it had been spanned at one time by an old bridge, only the rotting, sagging timbers were left. The planking had been torn away, leaving only the stringers.

He was right upon the ruined bridge, and, finding he could not stop, he felt certain that he was rushing to certain destruction. And nowhere before him could he see Parker Flynn. He had been tricked by the rascal, who might be watching him at that moment.

At the very last moment, Frank turned his wheel so that it struck one of the stringers, to which broken pieces of planking still clung. In a most remarkable manner, he held the wheel steady, and straight along that stringer it shot. Even then, in that moment of peril, he remembered seeing a bicycle that lay under the water at the bottom of the river.

How he crossed that stringer he could not tell, but he did so, reaching the other side in safety. It was a most miraculous feat, and was more of a chance than anything else.

Off the bicycle he sprang, and back to the bridge he rushed. He walked out on the stringer and looked down at the bicycle beneath the water. From some timbers fluttered a strip of cloth. He looked down the stream, and in an eddy he could see a hat floating round and round. Then he hurried to the bank, made his way down the river, secured a long stick and drew the hat in.

“It’s Flynn’s!” he said, before his hand touched it. “He did not escape going into the river, and he must have struck with terrible force against some of these broken timbers. It’s two to one he’s drowned.”

Securing the hat, he found the name of a Boston dealer inside, and there was no longer a doubt in his mind but it had belonged to Parker Flynn.

There was a patter of rain on the leaves and a distant roar that told of the coming downpour. At a distance up the river was an old mill, and toward this Merry hurried. He reached it just as the storm broke in all its fury.

For an hour the rain came down in torrents, the lightning blazed and the thunder shook the earth. When it was all over, Frank started out to find Flynn.

He did not find the man. After searching till late in the afternoon, he secured the aid of a number of farmers. At nightfall they had found nothing. Some of them were certain the body of the man would be recovered from a pond into which the river ran about a mile below the broken bridge, but night brought an end to the search.

Nearly forty-eight hours later Frank rode back into Belfast. His disappearance and prolonged absence had caused great wonder and excitement, and his return was hailed with satisfaction. He went straight to the rooms of the Belfast Wheelmen and found Diamond there.

Frank told the story of his pursuit, and expressed regret at being forced to say that neither Flynn alive nor his body had been found, but the farmers who had assisted in the search were confident that, in time, the body would be recovered from the pond.

He asked anxiously for Hodge.

“Bart is all right,” said Diamond. “He has had the very best of care. Yesterday he was brought up from Northport, and you can’t guess where he is.”

“I won’t try.”

“He is at Miss Mitshef’s home. She told her mother all about the encounter, and Mrs. Mitshef insisted that Bart be brought there and stay there till he had quite recovered. He has recovered already, but he knows when he is well off, and he is pretending to be an invalid. I don’t blame him, either.”

“Eh? Why, I thought——”

“Hush, Frank!” said Jack, quickly. “I know I expressed an unfavorable opinion of certain young ladies, but I want to take everything back. I was up there last evening to see Bart. Hattie Hazle was there, and I have changed my mind concerning those girls. Mabel Mitshef is cultivated and refined, as also is Hattie Hazle, although she seems to entertain a positive dislike for me. I was altogether too hasty in forming an opinion of them.”

“Look here!” exclaimed Frank, with a twinkle in his eyes. “It can’t be you are forgetting the little girl at Bar Harbor?”

Jack blushed, but quickly said:

“Not a bit of it, Merriwell! But I did want to retract what I said about these girls here. There is to be a party at Miss Mitshef’s house to-night, and we are all invited. If you did not return, it was to be postponed.”

“Well, we will attend the party,” smiled Frank. “I am ready for a little pleasure after what I have passed through in the last three days.”

CHAPTER VIII
HANS SINGS.

From a handsome residence on High Street, Belfast, came the sounds of music, singing and merry laughter. From top to bottom the house was brightly illuminated, and the sounds from within told that it was overflowing with light-hearted young people.

Mabel Mitshef, or “Mischief,” as she was almost universally called, was giving her party, and Frank Merriwell and his friends, Hodge, Diamond, Browning and Dunnerwust, were invited guests.

Leaving out Hans, Frank’s party formed a fine quartet, and their singing of college songs had been received with great applause. “Solomon Levi,” “Bingo,” “Stars of the Summer Night,” all the old favorites came in turn, and still the cry was for more.

Browning gave up from sheer exhaustion.

“It’s no use,” he said; “I’m not in training. Can’t keep it up, you know. I beg you to excuse me.”

Then, being urged, Frank sang one of the late popular songs, Jack accompanying him on the piano. Never had he sung better, and never had those present heard anything that pleased them more. There was a great burst of applause when he finished.

“Beautiful!” murmured Hattie Hazle, a handsome, dark-eyed girl. “I don’t wonder all the girls fall in love with Mr. Merriwell, for he does everything divinely! His singing is enough to make anyone adore him.”

“I don’d pelief you nefer heardt me sung,” said Hans, who sat near her. “Oh, you haf missed der dreat uf my life! I vos a pird!”

“Why, Mr. Dunnerwust,” cried Hattie, a twinkle in her eyes, “I am just perfectly crazy to hear you sing! I’ve been wanting to ask you, but didn’t dare, you know. Won’t you sing us a solo?”

“If he does, I hope he will sing it so low I can’t hear it,” muttered Browning. “I’ve heard him sing. The toothache is delirious delight compared to his singing.”

“Vale,” said Hans, with assumed modesty, “I don’d put meinseluf vorwart as no brimer donners, but I can vawble in a vay dot vill surbrise you.”

“That’s a fact,” nodded Bruce. “Everybody secure a supply of cotton before he begins. You will need it to stop your ears.”

“Vot vos dot?” demanded the Dutch boy, angrily. “You vos shelus, dot’s vot’s der madder you mit! You knew I vos goin’ to took der shine off vrom your sunging, und you don’d vant me to done dot. Vale, Misder Prowning, you don’d run der vorld!”

“Oh, don’t mind him, Mr. Dunnerwust,” said Hattie. “I am sure we are all very anxious to hear you sing.”

“Yes, indeed!” cried several other girls, taking the cue from Hattie and crowding about Hans. “Please sing, Mr. Dunnerwust.”

“Vale,” said Hans, smiling and putting his hand over his face in a manner meant to express great embarrassment, “it vill gif you great bleasure—no, I mean it vill gif me great bleasure to sung to der laties. I nefer could resist der laties.”

He arose and bowed, with his hand on his heart.

“Oh, how charming!” cried several of the girls, who had been given the tip by Merriwell early in the evening to have sport with the Dutch boy. “Do sing, Mr. Dunnerwust!”

“Before you begin, Hans,” laughed Frank, “you had better make sure no one in the room has a gun.”

“Coot cracious!” gurgled the Dutch boy, staring at Frank. “Vos you shelus, too? I didn’d oxbect dot vrom you, Vrankie. Py Chorch! This vos a surbrise vor you!”

“It will be a surprise for a great many when you begin to sing,” sighed the big Yale man.

“Mister Prowning, your remarks vos oxceeding der blace out uf. Laties, vot shall I sung to you?”

“Oh, anything!” cried Hattie. “Make your own selection.”

“I nefer sing any dose common songs uf. Der oldt songs vos goot enough me vor, such as, ‘Holdt der Vort Up,’ ‘Bull der Shore Vor,’ ‘Vait Till der Glouts Roll Pie, Shenny,’ ‘Der Oldt Oaken Pocket,’ und such as dose.”

“Oh, do sing ‘The Old Oaken Bucket,’” urged Hattie.

“Yes, do!” cried the others.

“Vale, I ain’d sung dot some dime vor, but id peen my vavorite song. I vill gif him to you, laties.”

“Who will accompany you?”

“I don’d needed nottings dot kindt uf. I can done my own accombanying. Shust kept sdill now, und I vill wable.”

Then Hans took a position in the middle of the room, threw his chest out and his head back, opened his mouth and let out some very remarkable sounds. This is his version of “The Old Oaken Bucket” as he gave it:

“How tear to your heart der scenes uf my shildhoot vos alretty yet,

Ven I sot me town und let vond reggolections bresent dem vor me to view ofer,

Der abble drees, der meatow, und der pushes vot vos all tangled up,

Und efery odder oldt blace vot I knew ven you vos a kid.

Der vrog pond spreat oudt, und der mill britty near it to,

Der pridge und der pig stone vere der water run ofer und vell down,

Der house vot pelonged mein varter to, und der blace vere dey made putter britty close to dot,

Und der nexd thing vos der oldt oaken pucket dot hung der vell down indo.

Der oldt oaken pucket, the pucket vot vas cofered mit moss all ofer,

Der iron-pound pucket, der pucket vot hung der vell down indo.”

By the time he got that far the entire gathering was convulsed with laughter. As he had been singing with his eyes closed, he had not seen them laughing, but now he opened his eyes and caught his breath in preparation for starting in on the next verse.

He did not start. The shout of laughter that went up made him stagger and gasp.

He stared around blankly, and then he looked disgusted.

“Py Chorch!” he muttered, “I pelief they vos laughin’ me at!”

In high indignation he stalked to his seat, and dropped down heavily, dragging a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopping the perspiration off his face.

Frank was laughing as heartily as anyone. Even Jack Diamond was smiling.

“Oh! oh! oh!” cried Hattie Hazle, with her handkerchief over her face.

“Vale,” said Hans, sadly, “I nefer oxbected you vould laugh me at, Miss Hazles!”

“Oh! oh! oh!” gasped Hattie. “I’m—not—laughing.”

“Vot?”

“No.”

“Vot you vos doin’?”

“I—I’m—crying!” she shrieked, with another outburst.

“Dot vos vunny! Vot you vos gryin’ vor?”

“Oh! oh! Because—because I am so—so affected—by—your—singing!”

She managed to utter the words, and then she fell over into the arms of a girl friend and went into another paroxysm.

Hans was in doubt. Somehow it did not seem to him that she was weeping, but she had said so, and he concluded that it might be her way of shedding tears.

“Vot you thinks uf dot, Misder Pruce Prowning?” he demanded. “You nefer made anypody gry your singing py your whole life in.”

“That’s all right, Hans; but this matter is serious. You have broken her all up, and she is liable to have convulsions and die. If she expires, you will be responsible.”

“Shimminy Gristmas!”

“It will be a very sad affair, but you have committed murder already.”

“Vot?” squawked Hans. “Murter? Vot you meant py dot?”

“You just murdered ‘The Old Oaken Bucket’ in the most horrible manner.”

Hans gasped and gurgled, and then he grew red in the face. Leaning toward Bruce, he hoarsely hissed:

“I don’d vant to made any drouble der bresence uf der laties in, but I vill fighted you on der oudside der house uf a minute in uf you dare gone ut mit me!”

But Bruce declined to go out.

Time flew swiftly that evening. ’Mid games, charades, music, refreshments, merry chatter and merry laughter, eleven o’clock came round with amazing speed.

Just as the clock was striking eleven, Hattie Hazle came in from another room to the parlor, where most of the guests were, and hurried straight toward Frank Merriwell. She was seen to whisper something in his ear.

Frank looked surprised and doubtful, and then she appeared to urge him to do something, and he finally smiled and nodded. A moment later, he arose and left the room.

Hattie had fancied that her act was unobserved, for Hans Dunnerwust was attempting to tell a funny story, and he had snarled himself up in such a manner that everyone seemed shouting with laughter and giving their entire attention to him.

But Jack Diamond had not missed the girl’s act, and on his face there was a look of displeasure and anxiety. When Merry started to leave the room, the Virginian reached out a hand as if to stop him, but seemed to change his mind, for he let Frank go.

But Jack watched Hattie closely. He saw her join in with the merry throng and seem as light-hearted and gay as any of them. Indeed, Hattie and Mabel were leaders in their set.

Diamond did not mean to take his eyes off the dark-haired girl, but Browning came up, suppressing a yawn with an effort and said:

“I’m getting bored. When are we to make our escape?”

“Oh, very soon, I think,” said Jack. “It is getting late.”

“The party will not break up before twelve. Are we to remain and see the agony through?”

“I don’t know. Merriwell will settle——”

Diamond paused and began to look around the room, an expression of anxiety on his face.

“She’s gone!” he muttered.

“Eh?” grunted the big Yale man. “What did you say?”

“Do you see Hattie Hazle anywhere?”

“Oho!” laughed Bruce. “So that is the matter! I presume you will not go directly from here to the yacht. Miss Hazle must walk home, and you will——”

“Nothing of the sort, sir!” interrupted Diamond, flushing hotly. “I am not chasing every pretty girl I see!”

“No? Well, you are a rare bird among the rising generation.”

“Besides——”

“I know all about the little girl at Bar Harbor, but she would never know anything about your little flirtations over here.”

“That makes no difference to me,” came haughtily from Jack’s lips. “I should know about it, and my sense of honor——”

“More of your Southern notions.”

“Perhaps so, but I am rather proud of my Southern notions, Mr. Browning. That is all, sir.”

Then, apparently almost at a white heat, Diamond left the big fellow, who sat down wearily on an easy-chair, murmuring to himself:

“Queer chap, that. He drags honor into everything. He’ll not even flirt a little with a pretty girl, for he is in love with a little Boston maiden, Paula Benjamin, who is at Bar Harbor. And I don’t believe there is anything serious between them, either, for I am sure he has not proposed to her. All the same, just as long as he is in love with her, he’ll not look at another girl. I wonder if all Virginians are that way. They can’t be.”

Diamond hurried out of the room. In various parts of the house he looked for Hattie Hazle.

“If I find her,” he thought, “I will ask her where Frank has gone.”

He did not find her.

At last, Jack came hurrying back to the parlor, a troubled look on his face. He saw Hodge, and quickly drew him aside.

“Look here, Bart,” he said, speaking in a low tone and uttering the words swiftly, “something is up.”

“What? How?”

“I’ll tell you. A while ago Miss Hazle came into this room in a hurry, just as Hans was trying to tell that story. I saw her look around till her eyes fell on Frank, then she hurried to him. No one noticed her but Merry and myself. She began speaking to him in a low tone, and I caught a few of her words.”

“Go on.”

“She was urging him to do something. At first he refused, politely, but she insisted, and, after a little, he gave in. I heard him ask, ‘Where is he?’ Then she said something I did not catch, and Frank said, ‘All right, I’ll see him.’ Directly he left this room, and I do not know where he went.”

Hodge looked disappointed.

“What of that?” he asked.

“Something is up,” repeated the Virginian. “I feel it—I know it!”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t see that you heard anything to make you think so.”

“Who did Merry go to see? Everyone of our party was here in this room.”

“I don’t know whom he went to see, and I don’t know that it concerns me. Jove! I never knew you to be so curious before, Diamond. This is a new freak for you.”

Jack flushed.

“I know you think it queer,” he said, swiftly; “but something tells me Frank is in danger. I did not try to hear a word that passed between him and Miss Hazle, but I heard despite myself. I meant to watch her, but she disappeared suddenly, and I could not find her. I thought I would ask her frankly where Merry had gone.”

“Well, I think you are putting yourself to a lot of unnecessary trouble. I don’t understand why you are so disturbed over a little thing like this.”

“I believe Frank is in danger.”

“Why?”

“I have not forgotten that he has enemies in Belfast.”

“He hasn’t any—now.”

“How do you know?”

“Who could they be?”

“Walter Wallace.”

“Oh! he never was very dangerous.”

“Mart Woodock.”

“And he was simply a sort of tool for Wallace. Frank Merriwell is more than a match for those chaps, and they are nothing more than two fellows who were envious of Merry.”

“But they tried to do him up. They aided Parker Flynn in the attack upon you and Merriwell. They were on hand when Flynn struck you down with a stone and nearly split your skull.”

“And they were so frightened that they took to their heels and have not been seen in Belfast since. Oh, those chaps are not to be worried over. If Flynn were alive——”

“Who knows he is dead?”

“Where there is every evidence of his death!”

“There is no evidence of his death that amounts to anything.”

“Merry pursued him far up into the country.”

“Yes.”

“And Flynn went through a broken bridge and was drowned.”

“What proof is there of that?”

“His bicycle was found in the water under the bridge.”

“Is that proof?”

“His cap was floating in an eddy of the river, which must have carried his body down into a pond below.”

“But the body was not recovered, although a search was made for it, and, as yet, there is no absolute proof of his death.”

“If he had not been drowned, he must have been found.”

“I’m not certain of that. He is a crafty fellow, and he may have resorted to a trick to deceive Frank.”

“Why should he?”

“He was hunted, and Merriwell had practically run him down. He knew he could not escape unless he did so by strategy. The bicycle at the bottom of the river and the floating cap made it seem that he had plunged into the river. He knew, if he were not found, that the report of his death would go out. That would give him time to escape. He did not know but he was a murderer. It is probable that he believed he had killed you. He had every reason to resort to trickery, and I am inclined to believe that was his game. I do not think Parker Flynn is dead.”

“You astonish me,” said Hodge, slowly, “but you may be right. However, even though the wretch is alive, I do not fancy we need worry about him.”

“Why not?”

“He’ll not trouble us again.”

“There is where I think you make a mistake. You have not sized up Flynn correctly. That chap is a thorough desperado, and, at the same time, he is cunning.”

“Well, it’s certain he would not venture back into Belfast so soon after what has happened.”

“You think he would not dare, and I believe that is the very thing he would dare. He would reason that no one would expect him to come back here, and back here he would come. If he has returned here, he knows by this time that he did not kill you, Hodge, and once more he is dangerous, for he will try to get another crack at Frank.”

The reasoning of Diamond was beginning to impress Hodge.

“Well, I don’t see how you connect this with anything Hattie Hazle said to Frank,” he spoke.

“Hattie Hazle asked him to meet somebody, and he has gone to meet that person.”

“Well?”

“At first he refused. That showed it was no one he regarded as a friend.”

“It looks that way,” confessed Bart.

“Then he must have gone to meet an enemy. He maybe in danger. Let’s go look for him, Hodge.”

“By Jove! I will do it, Diamond. I don’t want him to think I’d spy on him, but it would be enough to make a man daffy to have Flynn come back here and get at Merry. Come on, Jack!”

CHAPTER IX
AN UNPLEASANT DISCOVERY.

The house was surrounded by beautiful grounds. There were hedges, shrubbery, arbors and retreats.

The boys sought Merriwell there. They walked across the grass, avoiding the gravel walks, and their feet made no noise.

Suddenly Jack paused and clutched Bart’s arm.

“Listen!” he whispered.

They could hear the murmur of voices near at hand.

“Come!”

Forward they stole.

“Merry is there,” whispered Hodge.

They could hear him speaking.

“If he is in no danger, we’ll get out in a hurry,” said Jack, whose heart was beginning to misgive him. “I don’t want to be nosing into his business.”

Then they paused close to a clump of fancifully trimmed cedars. They could hear a voice saying:

“I thank you, Mr. Merriwell, for your generosity in promising not to make trouble for me. I know you could do so if you wished, but I give you my word of honor that I had no idea the fellow, Flynn, meant to do anyone serious harm when we attacked you. Wallace got me into it. I’ve got to go home, for they say my mother is nearly crazy over my absence.”

“It’s all right, Woodock,” said the voice of Frank Merriwell. “Go home, and be sure I hold no grudge. I think I can satisfy Hodge. Anyhow, we are going to leave Belfast to-morrow, if everything is favorable.”

“Well, I wish you good luck.”

“Oh, come away!” whispered Diamond, in Bart’s ear, his tone indicating disgust. “I’ve made a fool of myself. It’s only Woodock, and he is harmless.”

“’Sh!” warned Hodge. “Keep still. They are going. We have made asses of ourselves, but we don’t want Merry to know it.”

“Permit me to thank you, too, Mr. Merriwell,” said another voice. “You are very generous. Mart and I were schoolmates, and when he asked me to see you, I was glad to help him.”

It was the voice of Hattie Hazle.

“Everything is all right,” laughed Merriwell, in his jolly way. “I hold no grudge. I must get back to the house, or the fellows will be wondering what has become of me.”

“Remember my warning,” said the voice of Woodock. “You have not seen the last of Parker Flynn. I have reasons to believe he is alive and will trouble you again.”

“It will be the worse for him if he does. I may not see you again, Woodock, so good-by.”

“Good-by.”

A moment later Jack and Bart saw Merry hurrying toward the house.

“Now is our time,” said Bart. “We’ll follow.”

But Diamond held him back.

“Wait,” he whispered. “There go Woodock and Miss Hazle. He is taking her to the house. We’ll have to keep still or be seen.”

They remained quiet till Woodock and the girl reached the house, where she bade him good-night, and he turned away, while she entered.

“Girls are peculiar,” muttered Hodge. “I thought that girl did not care at all for Mart Woodock, but now I know she really thinks a good deal of him. She would not have taken all this trouble otherwise. She is a natural flirt, and she has tormented him till he was jealous. When he saw Merriwell and I with Hattie and Mabel at Northport, he attacked us with the others.”

But Diamond seemed so excited that he did not hear Bart’s words.

“I knew it! I knew it!” he repeated.

“Hey?” said Bart. “Knew what? What are you driving at?”

“Didn’t I tell you Parker Flynn was not dead?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you heard what Woodock told Merriwell. The fellow is alive! That is certain now.”

“How is it certain? Woodock simply said he had reasons to believe Flynn alive.”

“That’s enough. I am sure he did not tell all he knew. He didn’t dare. He wanted to warn Frank, and so he told that. Had he told the whole truth, he would have said that he knew Flynn was alive. I feel sure of it.”

“If he knows it, Flynn must be in Belfast.”

“I told you a short time ago that it would be just like the fellow to come back here.”

“Well, he wants to keep away from me!” growled Hodge, tenderly touching his head. “I have a grudge in store for that whelp, and, if he lives, I’ll settle the score some time.”

“I am thinking about the yacht,” said Jack. “We have left it entirely alone, thinking there was no need to watch it now.”

“That’s so. Flynn claims that the White Wings belongs to him.”

“And he has made more than one attempt to get possession of her.”

“You think——”

“Isn’t it likely that he might make another?”

“It’s more than likely. We must see Frank and talk the matter over. Somebody must be sent to the yacht immediately.”

“Why not all go? It’s late enough.”

“We’ll see about it. Come on.”

They went in and found Frank, and Diamond suggested that they return to the yacht at once.

“I think we have not been careful,” he said. “We should not have left her unguarded.”

“I am beginning to think so myself,” confessed Frank; but he said nothing about Mart Woodock and the warning he had received.

The party was breaking up. Already some of the guests had departed. Frank found Hans and Bruce, and told them it was time to leave.

“Vale,” said Hans, “I haf had der pest time you efer saw!”

They found Mabel Mischief and told her how much they had enjoyed the evening, after which they bade her good-night.

“When do you sail?” she asked.

“By nine o’clock to-morrow morning, if the wind is favorable.”

“Hattie and I will come down to see you off.”

“Yes,” laughed Hattie, who was standing beside Mabel, “we will be there.”

The girls shook hands with them all, one after another. As they started out, Frank began to whistle “Nellie Was a Lady,” and the others, with the exception of Diamond, joined in. This was turned into “Marching Through Georgia,” to which tune they stepped off briskly toward the steamboat wharf.

As they came down the street leading to the wharf the whistling died out, and they walked on in silence.

“The wind is off shore to-night,” said Diamond.

“I hope it will hold that way in the morning,” said Frank.

They reached the wharf. Jack hurried forward and was the first to reach the steps, at the foot of which they had left their boat. He went down the steps quickly, and then a cry came from his lips.

“What’s the matter?” asked Frank.

“Boat is gone!”

“Impossible!”

“It is, all the same. Somebody has stolen her.”

“Well, that is interesting!”

Of a sudden, Frank turned and hurried out upon the wharf till he was where he could look over the water toward the anchored yachts. The moon was down, but the sky was clear and full of stars, so there was sufficient light for him to see the yachts.

He could not distinguish the White Wings among them!

Hodge came hurrying to Frank’s side.

“It was a mistake to leave the small boat there with the oars in her,” he said. “Some of these skulkers around the wharves got away with her.”

“And they have taken the yacht, too!” came hoarsely from Frank’s lips. “The White Wings is gone!”

CHAPTER X
PREPARING FOR PURSUIT.

“What?”

Hodge literally staggered. He clutched Frank’s arm, as if for support.

“It can’t be true!”