Chapter 46

AFTER THE FIGHT.

The masked girl seemed to have the eyes of an eagle, for she immediately located the trio behind the rocks. A wild cry broke from her lips, and then she caught the rein in her teeth, snatched out two revolvers, and charged straight down upon the boys and the girl they were defending, firing as she came.

The men followed her.

With hoarse shouts, the first party of pursuers joined in the charge, and the trio of defenders were between two fires.

"Shoot to kill! Shoot to kill!" screamed Bart. "Do not waste bullets now! It will be fatal if you do."

Only too well did Frank realize that he must seek human targets for his bullets. It was not the first time in his life that he had been compelled to do such a thing, but he always regretted the necessity, and did so only when forced to the last ditch.

It is a very easy thing to sit down quietly and think or write of shooting a human being in self-defense; but such a thing is not easy for conscientious persons to do. When the time comes, they either shoot in desperate haste, before they can think much about it, or hold off as long as possible.

Frank held off as long as possible, but now he realized it would not do to hesitate longer. Bart was shooting in one direction, and he began shooting in the other. Through the smoke that leaped from the muzzle of his rifle he saw one man fling up his hands and plunge forward on his face.

Either the men were utterly reckless, or they had not believed the boys would offer much resistance, for they exposed themselves fearlessly and rushed fiercely on the rocks behind which the trio crouched. It is possible they fancied that by shooting recklessly among the rocks they could keep the lads quiet till the barrier was reached.

This was a fatal mistake for some of them. The ones who were mounted came forward more swiftly, but some of them were toppled from the saddle, others were thrown into confusion, the horses were wounded and frightened, and the riders who could escape, reined about and made haste to do so.

All but the masked girl!

With the utmost reckless abandon, she charged right up to the rocks. Being a girl, neither of the boys had shot toward her, or her horse.

Now, however, Bart Hodge rose to his feet, took good aim at the animal, and shot it dead.

The creature fell, flinging the girl headlong.

She struck solidly, and lay still, in a huddled mass upon the ground.

"Hurrah!" cried Frank, seeing the enemy was repulsed. "I fancy they have had about enough of us."

He hastened to replenish the magazine of his rifle.

Bart's first thought, on seeing the fight was over, was of the girl they had been defending. He turned and found her safe where she had been placed behind the large bowlder, but she was still holding her hands over her ears, and her face was very pale.

Frank sprang outside the rocks, caught up the other girl, and leaped back quickly, placing her gently on the ground.

"I hope she is not harmed," he said, as he deftly removed the mask.

The moment the girl's face was exposed a shout of amazement broke from the lips of both lads. They stared first at one girl and then at the other, looking bewildered.

The girls were almost counterparts of each other!

"They are doubles!" exclaimed Frank. "Taken separately, it would be impossible to tell one from the other."

Then he turned on the girl they had been defending, stared straight into her face for a moment, and asked:

"What is your name?"

"Vida Melburn."

"It is not Isa Isban?"

"No, sir."

"Did I not change two fifty-dollar bills for you on the Pacific Express, shortly after leaving Ogden?"

"I never saw you till this morning."

"That settles it!" cried Frank; "the other girl is Isa Isban, and she is queen of the counterfeiters. She was the one for whom I changed the money, and she completely fooled me by her innocent face and manner."

"And I mistook her for Miss Melburn," said Bart. "Such a thing seems impossible, but it actually occurred."

"But how Miss Melburn came to be here is what I cannot understand," asserted Frank.

"I came up to Tahoe with my father, an uncle, and an aunt," said the girl, who was recovering from her terror. "My uncle and aunt live in Carson, and father and I were visiting them. We hired a sailboat of a big hermit who lives somewhere on the shore of the lake, and sailed over here, coming ashore to have a picnic dinner. The wind went down, and we could not get back. That evening I took a little stroll from camp, and I was suddenly seized from behind, nearly smothered in a blanket and carried away. I was held a captive in a cabin, far up on a high cliff. Back of the cabin was a cave through which the men reached the spot. Last night, or this morning, before daybreak, a man with a heavy dark mustache came to see me. I had not undressed, and he made me get up, so he could look me over. After some minutes, he cried, 'I swear she is handsomer than the queen!' Then he told me how he had seen me in Carson, and had mistaken me, at first, for some one else. How he found out his mistake, when he received a message from the other, who had been away to the east. How he vowed to know me better, and how, when he found our party were going to visit the lake, he sent word to friends of his to kidnap me. The monster! Then he tried to make love to me. I repulsed him, and he went away in an angry mood, swearing he would come back. He did so, in the morning, and once more tried to make love to me. I was filled with terror, and, clutching the big umbrella, I rushed out of the cabin. When he followed, I opened the umbrella and jumped from the cliff."

"You did not meet me in Reno, as you agreed," said Bart.

"Because father got hold of your letter, and he watched me constantly. I could not."

The other girl suddenly sat up. Her eyes had been wide open for some moments, and she had heard the whole of the story from the lips of her double, at whom she now stared, her face working strangely.

"So he made love to you--the traitor!" she cried, passionately. "Said you were prettier than I! I saw he had begun to tire of me! He would not let me see you; now I know why. You are a fine half-sister to steal my husband!"

"Half-sister!" gasped the other girl, shrinking back. "What do you mean?"

"Don't you know. Why, we are half-sisters. You are two years the older, although you do not look so. You do not remember your mother, for she left you when you were a baby. Your father must have kept the story from you. Mother told me everything. Your father has been forced to pay well to have the secret kept. He was proud, and his pride has been expensive."

Vida seemed dazed.

"I can scarcely believe it," she murmured.

Isa laughed rather harshly.

"I don't suppose it makes you feel any happier to know you have such a sister. What do I care! You robbed me of my happiness, for you made Paul fall in love with you."

"I repulsed him as best I could. He is repugnant to me."

"Well, I suppose you tell the truth. I was longing to strangle you till I heard your story. I shall not molest you now. Where is Paul? Where are the men?"

"Some of them are dead," answered Bart. "We did not wish to shoot them, but they forced us to do so in self-defense."

At this moment shots and cries came from up the canyon, and, a few seconds later, a man came into view and rode his horse down toward the bowlders which had served the boys as a fort.

It was Jack Long, the sheriff.

"Hurrah!" cried Frank, leaping to his feet and waving his hat. "Our friends are coming!"

Long rode up slowly, gazing in unutterable amazement at dead horses and men stretched on the ground.

"Well," he said, as he drew rein, "it looks like there had been a right smart scrimmage here. Who was in it?"

"We were attacked, and had to stand them off," explained Frank.

"You?" cried the sheriff, his amazement increasing--"you youngsters? Did you do all this shooting?"

"We didn't do all the shooting you may have heard, but we did some of it, and what you see shows we did not waste all our bullets."

"Holy smoke! We captured two fellows, back there, both wounded, and they said you boys did it; but I couldn't hardly credit that. You must have fought like wildcats! This knocks me. If I ever open my trap about kids again I hope I may choke!"

In a few moments Big Gabe and Sile Jones appeared, escorting the wounded prisoners, and the boys felt that there was no further danger of another attack from the counterfeiters.

Paul Scott, the husband of Isa, had been killed in battle. Great was her grief when she came upon his dead body.

The men slain in the struggle were buried there in the ravine.

The counterfeiters' cave and the hidden cabin were visited. Dies and presses, together with a large amount of "queer" money, were found. The counterfeiters who had escaped from the battle had taken to their heels, and they were not captured.

Then it transpired that "Silas Jones, of Michigan," was, in truth, Dan Drake, of the Secret Service, a fact which had been known to Jack Long all the while. Drake had been working for a long time to find the den of this band of counterfeiters.

On the return to the lake Vida Melburn's nearly distracted father, uncle, and aunt were found, and the girl was restored to them.

Then Bart Hodge and Frank Merriwell were introduced, and the girl somewhat maliciously informed her father that the person who had fought to save her from her kidnapers was the very boy he had forbidden her to see or correspond with.

It is needless to say that Bart and Frank were treated with great courtesy.

Drake did not wish to make anything unpleasant for Isa, so she accompanied the party as if she were one of them, although the detective tried to keep an eye on her. But she was shrewd, and she gave him the slip before Carson was reached. She was not overtaken and recaptured.

The detective was not forced to call Frank and Bart to testify against the captured counterfeiters, as both fellows confessed freely.

Big Gabe parted from Frank with a show of affection.

"'Low yer wuz squar' when I fust saw yer, burn me deep ef I didn't!" said the lazy giant. "I wuz right, too. No, I ain't goin' ter leave Tahoe. Reckon I'll live ther rest uv my natteral days hyar. Ef yer ever git round this yar way, don't yer fail ter call on Gabe Blake. Yer'll alwus be welcome at his shanty. Ef yer ain't, you may brand me."

When Frank left Carson City Bart was the guest of Vida Melburn's uncle. Vida and her father were stopping there, and Frank was urged to remain longer.

But Frank made haste to get away. He had a secret locked fast in his heart; he knew he, too, might become smitten by Vida's charms, if he remained, and he did not wish to "cross the trail" of his friend.

The boys parted with a warm handshake and a sincere wish to meet again, before long.

"And where will you go next?" asked Bart.

"To San Francisco, and from there to South America," answered our hero.

He told the truth, and his many adventures that followed will be related in the next volume of this series, entitled "Frank Merriwell's Hunting Tour." In this story we will meet not only Frank, but also many other old friends, and learn what they did while after big game.

And now good-by to Frank Merriwell, a typical American lad of to-day, as honest as he is brave.

THE END.

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End of Project Gutenberg's Frank Merriwell's Bravery, by Burt L. Standish