Frank Merriwell's Backers: or, The Pride of His Friends. Standish Burt L.
was about to follow, when Big Monte clutched weakly at his foot.
"Pard," said the ruffian, "I may never git another chanct to say it. You're the white stuff! They'd shore hanged me a whole lot but for you. Now I has a chanct to die comfortable an' respectable like. Thankee, Frank Merriwell."
"Don't mention it!" said Frank. "Die as comfortably as you can. I have to go out to help the boys shoot a few of your pards."
"I ain't got northin' agin' them," said Monte; "but I wishes ye luck. They're in the wrong, an' you're right."
At this moment the sound of shooting outside startled Merry, and, without another word, he rushed forth, leaving Monte lying there.
Cimarron Bill had counted on capturing the mine by strategy and meeting with very little resistance. When Frank had returned and ridden into the valley Bill knew that it would not do to delay longer, and he had led his men in swift pursuit.
But old Joe Crowfoot, faithful as ever, had prepared the miners for the attack; so it came about that the ruffians were met with a volley of lead that dismayed and demoralized them. This was not the kind of work they relished.
Thus it happened that Frank Merriwell came hurrying forth, only to find the enemy already repulsed and retreating in disorder.
The starlight showed two men and a horse stretched on the ground, while another horse was hobbling about. At a distance down the valley the mine-seizers were fleeing.
"They git heap hot time!" said old Joe, in Frank's ear.
"What?" cried Merry. "Have they quit it as quick as this?"
"It looks that way, sir," said Jim Tracy.
"And I didn't get into the game."
"You was too busy defending Big Monte. I hopes you pardons me, sir, but I thinks that was a mistake."
"You have a right to think whatever you like, but I object to your freedom in expressing yourself."
This was plain enough, and it told Tracy that Frank would not tolerate any criticism from him.
"It's your own game," muttered Tracy, turning away.
"I see you have dropped two of those chaps."
"Yes."
Revolver in hand, Frank walked out toward the spot where the two figures lay. He was followed by Crowfoot and several others.
The first man was stone-dead.
The next proved to be the Mexican, Pinto Pede, who was sorely wounded.
"That cursed greaser!" growled one of the men. "Give me lief to finish him, Mr. Merriwell!"
He placed the muzzle of a pistol against Pede's head.
Frank knew that a word from him would send the Mexican into eternity.
"None of that!" he said sternly and commandingly. "Pick the fellow up and take him in yonder. He may not be shot up too bad to recover."
But they drew back.
"Sir," said Tracy, "I don't opine thar is a man here but what thinks hisself too good to be after handlin' the onery greaser."
"And you would let him remain here to die?"
"I reckons that's correct."
In another moment Merry had stooped and lifted the slender body of Pinto Pede in his arms. With long strides, he bore the Mexican toward the building in which Big Monte lay.
The miners looked on in amazement.
"Waal, he's the limit!" said Jim Tracy, in disgust.
Crowfoot followed Frank, who took Pede into the room and placed him beside Big Monte. The redskin stopped at the door, where he stood on guard.
"Well, Pede," said Frank, "we'll examine and see just how hard you're hit."
The Mexican was shot in the side. At first it seemed that the wound might be fatal, but, examining with the skill of an amateur surgeon, Frank made a discovery.
"She struck a rib, Pede," he said. "She followed around and came out here. Why, you're not in such a bad way! You may pull through this thing all right. You'd be almost sure to if you had the right sort of treatment."
The Mexican said nothing, but certain it is that he was bewildered when he found Merry dressing the wound. This Frank did with such skill as he possessed, making the fellow comfortable.
Big Monte had watched all this, and he spoke for the first time when the job was done.
"I reckon," he said, "that they don't raise galoots like you ev'rywhere. Why, it shore was up to you to finish the two o' us! Why you didn't do it is something I don't understand none at all. An' you keeps them gents from takin' me out an' swingin' me. You shore air plenty diffrunt from any one I ever meets up with afore!"
Old Joe Crowfoot had been watching everything. The Indian understood Frank not at all, but whatever "Strong Heart" did Joe was ready to stand by.
"Don't worry over it," laughed Merry. "I owe you something, Monte."
"I fail to see what."
"Why, you warned me that Bill and the others meant to jump the mine to-night."
"Did I?"
"Sure thing."
"I don't remember. But I tried ter shoot ye. Bill said you was ter be shot ef you comes a-hustlin' back afore he gits around to doin' his part o' the job."
"You got the worst of it in that little piece of shooting, so we'll call that even."
"If you says even, I'm more'n willin'."
"Now," said Frank, "I'm going out with the men to watch for a second attack from Bill. I have to leave you, and some of the boys may take a fancy to hang you, after all. That bein' the case, I don't want to leave you so you won't have a show. Here, take this gun. With it you may be able to defend yourself until I can reach you. But don't shoot any one if you can help it, for after that I don't believe even I could save you."
So he placed a revolver in the hand of Big Monte and went out, leaving the wounded ruffians together.
When Frank was gone the two wounded wretches lay quite still for some time. Finally Pinto Pede stirred and looked at Big Monte.
"How you get shot?" he asked.
"The gent who jest went out done a part o' the job," said Monte, in reply.
"Heem – he shoot you?"
"Yes."
"Ha! You lik' da chance to shoot heem?"
"Waal, I had it, but I missed him. He fooled me a whole lot, fer he jest kept still behind his hoss, what I had salted, an' then he got in at me with his own bit o' lead."
"That mak' you hate heem! Now you want to keel heem?"
"Oh, I don't know! I don't opine I'm so mighty eager."
"Beel says he gif one thousan' dol' to man who shoot Frank Mer'well."
"That's a good lot."
"Beel he do it."
"No doubt o' that, I reckons."
"Mebbe you an' I haf the chance."
"Waal, not fer me! I quits! When a chap keeps my neck from bein' stretched arter all I has done ter him – waal, that settles it! I opines I has a leetle humanity left in me. An' he thought I was dyin', too. I kinder thought so then, but I'm managin' ter pull along. Mebbe I'll come through."
The face of Pinto Pede showed that he was thinking black thoughts.
"Gif me da chance!" he finally said. "You no haf to do eet. Gif me da chance. I do eet, an' we divvy da mon'. Ha?"
"Don't count me into your deviltry."
"No count you?"
"No."
"What matter? You no too good. I see you shoot man in back."
"Mebbe you did; but he hadn't kept me from bein' lynched."
"Bah! Why he do