Frank Merriwell's Triumph: or, The Disappearance of Felicia

The ruffian’s friends were chuckling and muttering among themselves.

“Dan paralyzes him the first time he hits him,” declared one.

“You bet your boots he does!” put in another.

“I seen him break Bill Goddard’s neck with a blow down in Buckeye,” said a third.

Frank removed his wide-brimmed hat and laid it on the bar, tossing back his head with a slight shaking motion to fling a lock of hair out of his eyes. Then he suddenly advanced to meet his antagonist, his arms hanging straight at his sides and his hands open. It seemed as if he invited annihilation, and Spotted Dan improved the occasion by making a strong swinging blow with his huge fist, aiming straight at the face of the fearless youth.

Quick as a flash of light, Merry ducked just the slightest and tipped his head to one side.

Dan’s fist shot over Frank’s shoulder. With a quick movement of his foot, Merriwell struck the ruffian’s feet from beneath him, and the giant crashed to the floor so heavily that the glasses and bottles rattled on the shelves behind the bar.

With a roar of surprise, Spotted Dan made a spring and landed on his feet. Before him stood Merriwell, still with his hands hanging at his sides, regarding him with just the faintest suggestion of an amused smile. That smile was enough to infuriate the bruiser beyond description.

“Dodges, does yer!” snarled the man. “Well, dodge this if yer ken!”

Again he struck, and again Merry escaped by simply tipping his head like a flash over upon his shoulder and crouching the least bit. He did not lift a hand to ward off the blow. Like a panther he leaped to one side, and his outstretched toe caught his enemy’s ankle as the force of that blow, wasted on the empty air, sent Dan staggering forward. A second time the fellow went crashing to the floor. A second time he sprang up with amazing agility for one so huge and ponderous.

“Whatever kind of fighting does yer call this?” he shouted, in a rage. “Why don’t yer stand up like a man and fight? Is that all yer can do? Does yer know nothing else but jest ter dodge?”

“You’re too easy,” declared Frank. “I hate to hurt you – really I do. It seems a shame.”

“Yah!” shouted the infuriated man. “You would hurt nobody if yer hit um.”

“I beg you to pause a moment, Daniel,” put in Wiley. “Have you made your will? If not, I entreat you to do so. If he ever hits you – oh, luddy, luddy! you’ll think you’ve been kicked by a can of dynamite.”

The ruffian’s companions had been astonished by the ease with which Merriwell escaped Dan’s blows; but they, too, believed the fight would quickly end if Merry stood up and met his enemy.

Spotted Dan slyly edged around Frank, seeking to force him into a corner. Apparently without suspecting the fellow’s object, Merry permitted himself to be driven back just as Dan seemed to desire. Getting the young mine owner cornered, as he thought, the bruiser quickly advanced, seeking now to seize him with one hand, while the other hand was drawn back and clinched, ready for another terrible blow.

With a snapping movement, Frank clutched the wrist of Dan’s outstretched arm. There was a sudden twist and a whirl, and although the ruffian struck with all his force, he felt his shoulder wrenched in the socket and knew he had missed even as he delivered the blow. That twisting movement turned the fellow about and brought his arm up behind him on his back. Then Merry sent him forward with a well-directed and vigorous kick.

“It is too easy!” sighed Cap’n Wiley, sadly shaking his head. “It isn’t even interesting. I fancied possibly there might be some excitement in the affair, but I am growing sleepy, and I fear I shall miss the finish while I take a nap.”

Spotted Dan was astonished now. Never had he encountered any one who fought in such a singular manner, and he could not understand it. Just when he felt certain that he had the youth where he wanted him, Merry would thwart his design and trip him, or, with the utmost ease, send him staggering.

“Dern yer! What makes yer fight with yer feet?” rasped the ruffian. “That ain’t no way whatever ter fight. Fight with yer fists on the squar, and I will annihilate yer.”

“I don’t believe that anything was said about the style of fighting,” retorted Merry pleasantly. “However, if you don’t like my methods I will agree not to use my feet any more.”

“That settles it!” roared Dan. “I will fix yer in thirty seconds now.”

“Dear, dear!” yawned Wiley, leaning on the bar. “How sleepy I am! I think this bout should have been pulled off under Marquis of Deusenbury rules. I, too, am against the use of feet. Cut it out, mates, and come down to real business.”

“Very well,” said Frank.

“You kick no more?” questioned the ruffian.

“Not to-day.”

“Then I thumps the head off you right away.”

Spotted Dan sailed into it then, and for a few moments the fight was rather lively, although the ruffian was doing all the hitting. That is, he was trying to do all the hitting, but he was wasting his blows on the air, for Frank parried them all or ducked and dodged and escaped by such cleverness as none of Dan’s comrades had ever before witnessed. Still the bruiser was the aggressor, and they were confident he would soon weary the youth, when a single blow would bring about the finish of the encounter.

Indeed, one thing that led Dan on and made him force the fight harder and harder was the fact that Merry seemed to be panting heavily and betrayed signs of great exhaustion. The desperado was sure the youth was giving out, and so, although he was likewise somewhat winded, he continued to follow Merry up. At length, quick as a flash, Frank’s manner changed. He no longer retreated. He no longer sought to escape his enemy. He made Dan parry two heavy blows aimed at him. Then he countered, and the big fellow was sent reeling. Like a wolf Frank followed the bruiser up, hitting him again and again until he went down.

Cap’n Wiley roused up a little at this and observed:

“That’s somewhat better. Now it grows slightly interesting. But he hasn’t oiled his machinery and started in earnest yet. Wait a few moments, gents, and see him cut parabolical circles through the diametrical space around Daniel’s dizzy cranium.”

Spotted Dan sat up, astonished beyond measure at what had happened. He saw Frank standing at a little distance, with his hands on his hips, smiling down at him and showing not the least sign of exhaustion. The man who had seemed winded a few moments before and ready to drop was now as fresh and unwearied as if nothing had happened.

Through the bruiser’s dull brain crept a suspicion that he had been deceived by this handsome, smooth-faced young man. He knew now that Merriwell could fight in the most astounding manner. This, however, enraged him to such an extent that he banished reason and coolness and rose to charge on Merry, with a roar like that of a mad bull. Frank avoided the rush, but hit the ruffian a staggering blow on the ear as he went past. Dan turned quickly and charged again.

Four times the big bruiser charged, and four times Merry avoided him and sent him reeling. The fourth time Frank followed him up. He gave Spotted Dan no chance to recover. Blow after blow rained on the man’s face and body. Dan was driven back until he was close upon the card table that sat in the rear of the room. Then, with a swinging upward blow, Merriwell’s fist hit the fellow on the point of the jaw, and the ruffian was actually lifted off his feet and hurled clean over the table against the wall. He fell to the floor and lay there in a huddled, senseless heap, literally knocked out.

Frank turned toward the bar, rolling down his sleeves.

“Watch his pards like a hawk, Wiley,” he said. “Now is the time they may try treachery, if ever.”

“Depend on me,” nodded the sailor.

Frank quickly slipped on his coat and placed his hat upon his head. Then he turned to the amazed ruffians, saying, quietly:

“Gents, you heard the agreement between us. If I whipped that fellow, the engagement which he claims to have made for himself and for you through Cap’n Wiley was off. I think you will acknowledge that he is whipped. That settles it.”

He backed toward the door of the saloon, followed by the sailor, also backing in the same manner and keeping his pistols ready. When the door was reached Merry turned and disappeared, and Wiley followed him.

CHAPTER XIII.

MACKLYN MORGAN APPEARS

“Mate,” said Cap’n Wiley, as they hurried along the street on their way back to the hotel, “you are in every minute particular the finest specimen of exuberant manhood that it has ever been my fortune to associate with. Of course, I felt sure you would do up that fellow, but you came through the seething and turgid fray without so much as a scar. I don’t believe he even touched you once.”

“Yes, he did,” said Merry, “a couple of times. He hit me on the shoulder, but the blow was spent, and he caught me a fair one over the heart. I leaped away just in time to spoil the effectiveness of that.”

“But you are certainly the supreme fighter of this period of scrappers. If you chose to enter the ring, you might be champion of the world. It would delight my soul to be able to put up a real fight like that.”

“It disgusts me,” returned Merry.

“Wha-a-at?” gasped the sailor. “I think I fail to catch your meaning.”

“It disgusts me,” repeated Merry. “If there is anything that makes me feel degraded, it is being compelled to take part in a fight of that sort. I was practically forced into it on this occasion. I saw those fellows meant mischief, and I felt that the only way to settle the affair was to give that big duffer a thumping. It’s about the only reasoning a man can use on men of his calibre. Words and arguments fail to affect them, and a good thrashing moves them to respect.”

“But do you mean to tell me,” said Wiley, “that you are not an admirer of the manly art of self-defense? Do you mean to tell me that you take no interest in the prize ring and the glorious heroes of it?”

“If there is anything for which I have absolutely no use,” said Merry, “it is a professional prize fighter. To me prize fighting is the most degrading of all the so-called sports.”

“This is more than passing strange,” said the sailor. “If such can be the case, will you elucidate to me how it happened that you ever learned to use your little dukes in such a marvelously scientific manner?”

“I think it is the duty of every American youth to learn to defend himself with his fists. No matter how peacefully inclined he is, no matter how much of a gentleman he is, no matter how much forbearance he may have, there is bound to come a time in his life when he will be forced to fight or suffer insults or bodily injury. As a rule, I never fight if I can avoid it. In this instance I might have avoided it for the time being, but I was certain that if I did so the matter would culminate in something more serious than a fistic encounter. Had I escaped from that saloon without meeting Spotted Dan, he and all his partners would have regarded me as afraid of them, and you know very well that they would have sought to force trouble on me at every opportunity. The easiest way to settle the whole matter was to fight then and there, and therefore I did so.”

“Well, you oughter feel proud of the job you did!”

“Instead of that, I feel as if I had lowered and degraded myself. I’ll not throw off the feeling for some time. To make the matter still worse, it was a saloon fight. However, I do not go there to drink. Out in this country the man who does business with the men he finds here is sometimes compelled to enter a saloon.”

“That’s true – quite true,” sighed Wiley. “I sometimes find it necessary to enter one myself.”

By this time they had reached the hotel, and as they entered the office Merry suddenly paused in surprise, his eyes fastened on a man who stood before the desk.

This man was tall and well dressed, with a somewhat ministerial face and flowing grayish side whiskers. He was speaking to the clerk.

“I see here the name of Mr. Frank Merriwell on the register,” he was saying. “Can you tell me where to find him?”

“Mr. Merriwell!” called the clerk. “Here is a gentleman inquiring for you.”

The man at the desk turned and faced Frank.

“Is that so?” muttered Frank. “It is Macklyn Morgan!”

Morgan, one of the money kings of the great Consolidated Mining Association of America, looked Merriwell over with a glance as cold as ice.

“How do you do, sir?” he said, in a calm, low voice. “It seems that I have found you at last.”

“From your words,” returned Merry, “I should fancy you had been looking for me for some time?”

“I have.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, I have looked for you in Denver, in Holbrook, and at your Queen Mystery Mine.”

“It appears that I have given you considerable trouble?”

“Not a little; but I was determined to find you.”

“You have done so.”

“Yes; you can’t hide from me.”

“I have not the least desire in the world to hide from you, Mr. Morgan.”

“You say so,” returned the man, with a cold sneer; “but I am certain you have taken pains to keep out of my way for the last two weeks.”

“You are utterly mistaken. I would not take pains to keep out of your way for two minutes. What do you want of me?”

“I have a little matter to talk over with you – some private business.”

“I was not aware that there could be business dealings of any sort between us, Macklyn Morgan.”

“Be careful!” warned Morgan, lifting a thin finger. “You are putting on a very bold face.”

“And is there any reason why I should not? I know, Mr. Morgan, of your methods at the time of my affair with the C. M. A. of A.”

“I have not forgotten that.”

“Nor I. Nor do I regret that, although the C. M. A. of A. was compelled to give up its unlawful efforts to rob me, you entered into a combination with another moneyed rascal to accomplish the work.”

“Be careful!” again warned Morgan. “I am not the man to whom you can talk in such a manner.”

“Like any other man, you are one to whom I can tell the truth. If the truth cuts, so much the worse for you, sir.”

“Don’t get on your high horse, young man; it will be better for you if you refrain. Don’t be so free with your accusations, for you will soon find that there is an accusation against you of a most serious nature.”

“What new game are you up to, Mr. Morgan? It seems to me that the failures of the past should teach you the folly of your plots and schemes.”

“I have told you that I wish to have a private talk with you, young man. Perhaps you had better grant me the privilege.”

“As far as I am concerned, there is no necessity of doing so; but really I am curious to know just what you’re up to. This being the case, I will not object. I have a room, and we may go there.”

“Your record indicates that you are a desperate character, Merriwell. I should hesitate to place myself alone with you in any room unless you were first disarmed. If you will leave your weapons here at the desk we will go to your room.”

“I am quite willing in case you leave your own revolver, sir.”

“I never carry a revolver, Merriwell.”

“But you have one in your pocket now,” declared Frank positively.

He seemed to know this to be a fact, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Morgan took out a small revolver, which he laid upon the desk.

“I thought it best to provide myself with such an article while in this part of the country,” he said. “There it is. I will leave it here.”

Immediately Frank walked to the desk and placed his own pistol upon it.

“Come,” he said. “You may follow me to my room.”

In Frank’s room, with the door closed behind them, Merry motioned to a chair.

“Sit down, Mr. Morgan,” he said, “and make whatever statement you choose. I will listen.”

Morgan took the chair.

“First,” observed Morgan, “I wish to speak of Milton Sukes.”

“I thought likely.”

“You know the interests of Mr. Sukes and myself were closely allied.”

Frank laughed.

“Yes; although Sukes was at the head of the concern, I know that you conspired with him to defraud me.”

“Have a care!” again warned Morgan. “You are now dealing with a man of power and influence.”

“I have dealt with such men before. As a bugaboo, the mere fact that you have money does not frighten me in the least, Mr. Morgan. If, like Sukes, you fancy that money gives you power to commit any fraud, like Sukes, you are to learn your mistake.”

“I know all about your scandalous attack on Mr. Sukes in Denver. I know of your attempted blackmailing of him, Merriwell. You did try to blackmail him, and you can’t deny it.”

“You lie, Morgan!” retorted Frank, with perfect control of himself.

“Then what was the meaning of your threat to expose his mining operations?”

“Morgan, Milton Sukes pitted himself against me and attempted to rob me of my mine. When he did so he aroused my fighting blood. He was defeated in every effort he made against me, and the decision against him in the courts of the Territory was the final blow that upset his plans. In the meantime I had learned that his Great Northwest Territory Mining Company was a swindle of the most outrageous sort. I had threatened to expose him, and, when he found himself whipped to a standstill, he sought to enter into a compact with me, by which I was to remain silent and let him go on with his dishonest work.

“He sent one of his tools to me with a contract for me to sign. I tore it up. As I say, my blood had been aroused, and I warned him then that neither cajolery nor money could silence me. I warned him that I would expose and disgrace him, so that every honest man in the country would regard him with scorn and aversion. Had it been mere blackmail, Sukes could have silenced me with money. He sought to do so, but found he was barking up the wrong tree. He threatened libel suits and all that; but I kept on at my work. As a last desperate resort he paid an employee of mine to fire my office in Denver, and the result of that affair was that the treacherous fellow who betrayed me fancied I had perished in the fire. It drove him insane. He pursued Sukes relentlessly, and it is certain that Sukes was finally killed by that man’s hand.”

“So you say, Merriwell; but I hold quite a different opinion – quite a different opinion.”

“Whatever your opinion may be, Morgan, it is a matter of absolute indifference to me.”

Macklyn Morgan showed his teeth.

“You may think so just now, young man, but you will change your mind. I have been investigating this matter thoroughly. I have followed it up faithfully. I know how and where Sukes was shot. I have taken pains to secure all the evidence possible. You were present at the time. You were there in disguise. Why did you pursue and hunt him in disguise? It looks black for you, Mr. Merriwell – it looks black. These things will count against you at the day of reckoning, which is surely coming. How will you explain your behavior to the satisfaction of the law?”

“That’s no matter to worry you, Macklyn Morgan,” calmly returned Merriwell. “If there is anything of explanation, I shall have the explaining to do. Don’t trouble yourself over it.”

“You have a great deal of nerve just now, young man; but it will weaken – it will weaken. Wait until you are arrested on the charge of murder. Had you killed an ordinary man it might have been different; but Milton Sukes was a man of money, a man of power, a man of influence. All his money, if necessary, will be used to convict you. You cannot escape. Just as true as this case is put into the hands of the law you will eventually be hanged.”

In his cold, calm, accusing way, Morgan was doing everything in his power to unsettle Frank’s nerves. As he spoke, he watched the youth as a hawk watches its prey.

“I fail to see your object in coming to me with this,” said Merry. “It seems most remarkable. If you intend to push such a charge against me, why don’t you go ahead and do it? Why do you tell me what you contemplate doing? The proper method is to secure every scrap of evidence and then have me arrested without warning and thrown into jail.”

“I have all the evidence I need,” asserted the money king. “Merriwell, I have men who will swear that you fired that shot.”

“Did they see me do it?”

“They did.”

“Most amazing, Morgan! Are you aware of the fact that Sukes was shot in the dark? Are you aware that every light in the place had first been extinguished by other shots? Will you explain to me how any one could have seen me shoot him under such circumstances?”

“One of the men was standing within two feet of you. He saw the flash of your weapon, as did the other man, who was a little farther away.”

Frank smiled derisively.

“Wonderful evidence!” he said. “I doubt a great deal if a jury anywhere in this country would convict a man on such proof. At the time, as I think you will acknowledge, there was another man who did some shooting. I deny that I fired the shot. But even had I done so, who could say that it was not I who shot out the lights and the other man who killed Milton Sukes?”

“Did you know that you left a pistol with your name upon it in a hotel where you stopped in Snowflake?”

“I did nothing of the sort.”

“You did, Merriwell! The bullet that killed Sukes is in my possession. It is a bullet such as would have been fired from that pistol. The pistol is in my possession, Merriwell! I have the evidence against you, and you can’t escape!”

“Although you are lying in every particular, Morgan, I am curious to know what your game may be. What is behind this singular procedure of yours?”

Macklyn Morgan seemed to hesitate for a few moments, and then, leaning forward on the edge of his chair and holding up one finger, he suddenly exclaimed:

“There is only one escape for you!”

“And that is – ”

“If I abandon the case you may escape. If I drop it there will be no one to push it.”

“And you will drop it?” questioned Merry, with pretended anxiety. “On what inducements?”

“Now you’re coming to your senses,” nodded the man. “Now I fancy you comprehend just where you are. You possess several mines, and they are of considerable value. I have spent some money to get possession of one of those mines, having, as both Milton Sukes and I believed, a good claim to it. I speak of the Queen Mystery. Frank Merriwell, the day you deed over to me the Queen Mystery and give me possession of it I will abandon my determination to prosecute you for murder. I will even place such proofs as I have in your hands and you may destroy them. Of course there will remain the two men who are ready to swear they saw you fire the shot, but they may be easily silenced. That’s my proposition. And it is by that method alone you can save your neck. Now give me your answer.”

“I will!” exclaimed Merriwell suddenly.

And then, with a spring, he seized Macklyn Morgan by the collar. Immediately he ran the man to the door, which he hurled open.

“That is my answer!” he cried, as he kicked Morgan out of the room.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE MESSENGER

As Morgan was hurled headlong from Merry’s room he collided with a man outside, who was very nearly upset. This young man caught a glimpse of Frank in the act of violently ejecting the man of money, and what immediately happened to Morgan was the result of this discovery.

“What’s the meaning of this great agitation by which you seek to overthrow my corporosity?” savagely demanded Cap’n Wiley, for it was he. “This insult to my indignity is several degrees beyond my comprehension, and without waste of verbosity or the expenditure of violent language, I feel called upon to precipitate your corporosity on its journey.”

Saying which, he sprang, catlike, on the millionaire, seized him, ran him swiftly along the corridor and flung him head over heels down the stairs. As Morgan crashed to the bottom, Wiley stood at the head of the stairs, his arms akimbo, nodding with satisfaction, and remarked:

“Possibly that jarred you some.”

Morgan was not seriously hurt, but he arose in a terrible fury.

“I will land you both where you belong for this outrage!” he declared, white to the lips. “I will place you both behind iron bars!”

Then he limped away. Merriwell had followed, and his hand fell on the sailor’s shoulder.

“Why do you mix up in this, Wiley?” he demanded sternly. “It was not your quarrel.”