Frank Merriwell's Athletes: or, The Boys Who Won

“Blessings on that aunt!”

“Wait a bit! wait a bit!”

Frank showed alarm.

“Don’t tell me she could not find her aunt, or that the woman refused to aid her!”

“Nayther thing happened. It war loike this: Another stamer sailed fer San Francisco the day afther us.”

“What of that?”

“It wur a fasther stamer than th’ one we wur on, Frankie.”

Merriwell’s fears were fully aroused.

“Go on! go on!” he cried.

“Av course her fayther an’ th’ Inglish lord diskivered she had run away, an’ they found out she had taken a stamer.”

“They followed on the other?”

“They followed a pace.”

“Followed a piece? Why, how were they to turn back?”

“Nivver a bit did they do thot, but th’ last parrut av th’ trip we wur folleyin’ thim, an’ nivver a thing did we know about thot.”

“They passed you without your knowing it, you mean.”

“Thot is phwat Oi mane.”

“And then – then – ”

“Whin we lift the stamer at this port, they wur there to receive us.”

A cry of dismay broke from Frank, and then he suddenly became quite cool in his manner, the change being so pronounced that it was startling.

“I presume they took charge of her?” he said, grimly.

“Thot’s phwat, an’ they nearly took charge av me whin they found me wid her. An officer wur called to arrist me, but it’s a roight loively pair av legs Oi have, an’ th’ polaceman nivver got his fingers on me collar, though it wur some high dodgin’ Oi did.”

“What became of Inza?”

“Thot is phwat Oi’d loike ter foind out, Frankie, an’ it’s two days Oi’ve been thryin’ to do so.”

CHAPTER III – IN A QUANDARY

Frank took a turn twice the length of the room, and then stopped before Barney and the others, who were watching him in silence.

“Fellows,” he said, his voice firm and steady, “Inza Burrage is a girl whom I admire very much. When I attended school at Fardale we were sweethearts. I fancy the most of you know what it is to have a sweetheart at school. Circumstances may separate such sweethearts in after years, but nothing ever makes them forget each other. They are sure to think of each other with tenderness and respect. A thousand times have I thought and dreamed of Inza. I have felt that I was ready to make any sacrifice for her – ready to do anything in my power for her. I have said that, if the time ever came when she needed a true friend, she could depend on me. That time has come. She is in need of a friend, and I must find her and aid her. It may be possible that I shall need the assistance of my friends. Who may I count on?”

In a moment every boy in that room was on his feet and declaring his eagerness to stand by Frank through anything and everything.

Frank did not smile; he was very grave and stern, although something like a look of satisfaction passed across his face.

“I thought so,” he nodded. “In fact, I knew it. The first thing is to find out where Miss Burrage is.”

“She may not be in San Francisco at all now,” said Browning, who showed unusual interest for him.

“That is quite true.”

“Oi think she is,” said Barney.

“What makes you think so?”

“Lord Stanford had a haythen Chinee for a servant.”

“What of that?”

“It wur thot same haythen me an Hans folleyed to th’ thayater in Chinatown this avenin’. Thot is how we happened to be there.”

“Yah,” nodded the Dutch boy; “dot vos der trute.”

“That is interesting,” admitted Frank. “I hope it may prove that you are right. Were you watching the Chinaman when you were attacked?”

“Hans was. Oi had sane th’ rat-’ater spake to another wan, an’ Oi felt sure he said somethin’ about us. Oi watched the other, an’ it wur a good thing fer me that Oi did.”

“The other was the one who tried to get a knife into your back?”

“Yis. Th’ dirruty rascal didn’t know Oi had me oie on him all th’ toime.”

“In the excitement that followed, you lost sight of the one you followed there.”

“Vale,” said Hans, “I don’d peen aple to keep vatch uf him afder efrypody shumps ub all aroundt.”

“That was most unfortunate. If you could have followed him without his knowing it, he might have led you straight to his master.”

“Thot’s phwat Oi thought, me b’y.”

Frank thought the matter over for a few moments, and then said:

“It seems to me that there is a probability of this Lord Stanford being in San Francisco, although Inza’s father may have taken her away. If his servant had left him, it is not likely an attempt would have been made on Barney’s life. The Chinaman’s master must have told him to look out that he was not followed by Barney, and the heathen was going to stop it somehow.”

“It seems rather remarkable to me,” said Jack, “that they should care whether Barney followed them or not, for it is likely they now have the girl under such close watch that there is absolutely no chance for her to run away again.”

“She may have been forced into a marriage already,” Browning said.

“You do not know her,” declared Frank. “She is a girl of such spirit that her father will find it extremely difficult to compel her to marry against her will.”

“Yah,” nodded the Dutch boy, “you pet me my poots on dot!”

“Begorra! she has th’ clane grit in her,” agreed Barney.

“That is certain,” admitted Bruce, “else she would not have dared run away as she did. Not one girl in a thousand would have the nerve to do a thing like that.”

“I am greatly interested to see this remarkable young lady,” said Diamond. “I like girls of spirit.”

Frank paid no heed to what the others were saying. He was walking the floor, the expression of his face showing that he was in a brown study.

“Shust look ad him,” whispered Hans. “Uf he geds dot Lort Sdanfort holdt uf – vale, dot feller don’t know vere he vas at purty queek alretty.”

After a time, Frank paused to say:

“This is a case on which no time is to be lost, as Inza may be forced into a marriage if she is not soon given aid in some manner. Unfortunately, it seems to me that there is no clew to begin work on immediately. We are at sea.”

“Av you don’t foind a way out av it roight off it will be th’ firrust toime ye ivver wur balked,” said Barney, admiringly.

“There is always a first time, but we will hope this is not one. I am going to give the matter some thought. Talk it over, fellows, and see if you can’t devise some plan.”

As Frank was passing into an adjoining room, Hodge approached him, saying in a low tone:

“You must not forget that I am in constant danger every day I remain in California, Merriwell. I must get out as soon as possible.”

At first a shadow of annoyance seemed to rest on Frank’s face, but it quickly passed, and he said:

“You are right, Bart. A steamer leaves for Honolulu day after to-morrow. To-morrow I will secure passage on her for you.”

Then he passed on into the room.

Two hours later Rattleton found Frank alone.

“Well, Merry,” said Harry, “what is to be done? Have you decided yet?”

Frank shook his head.

“It is a most perplexing and puzzling situation,” he confessed. “If I knew where to find Inza it would not be long before I would have a plan. But to find her – that’s the rub.”

“What would you do then?” asked Harry. “You could not take her away from her father.”

“That is true. But her father is an invalid, and I believe this Lord Stanford has used undue influence in persuading him to force Inza into this marriage. In London I was able to save Mr. Burrage and Inza from being blown to pieces by an anarchist’s bomb. It is not likely that he has forgotten this. It may be that I would have some influence with him myself.”

“It is possible,” admitted Harry; “but even your influence might fail.”

“In that case,” declared Frank, “I should try to resort to more desperate means.”

“It is dangerous, Merry – very dangerous. Since reaching California we have escaped from one danger by the tin of our skeeth – I mean by the skin of our teeth. Even now there is a possibility that Hodge may be arrested.”

Frank scowled a little, but nodded slowly.

“I know it,” he acknowledged, “but in two days Hodge will be on the sea bound for Honolulu. He is to take passage on a steamer that leaves day after to-morrow. It is this girl I am thinking about, now, Rattle.”

“Girls have caused you any amount of trouble, Merry.”

“I know that, and I am willing that this girl should cause me any amount more.”

“Then it must be that you are still in love with her. This is the girl you care about more than any other.”

“I don’t know,” said Frank, slowly. “It may be. I have not seen her in a long time, and I have seen many other girls, for some of whom I have had more than a passing fancy.”

“It is certain that some of them have had more than a passing fancy for you, Frank,” laughed Harry.

Merriwell did not smile.

“Harry,” he said, gravely, “my thoughts are now of Inza alone. All other girls are forgotten. She always had the utmost confidence in me. She trusted me, and she believed I could do anything. If she knew I were in San Francisco she would find a way to appeal to me for aid. I can fancy her alone with her invalid father, whose one ambition is to make a good match for his child before he dies. I can fancy her appealing to him, begging him not to force her into this odious marriage. She is not the girl to cringe or cry. She is impulsive, hot-blooded, passionate, and, as a last resort, to escape this English lord, she might do something desperate. Nay, she might commit suicide.”

Harry was inclined to laugh at this, but he saw that Merriwell was very grave and earnest, and he refrained. He shook his head, however, saying:

“You cannot be in earnest, old fellow. Girls do not commit suicide nowadays.”

“I assure you there is no telling what a girl like Inza Burrage might do. That is what worries me. I feel that it is my duty to aid her, but how – how can I reach her?”

“Pive it gup – I mean give it up, old man. Let us sleep over it to-night.”

“Sleep – sleep after hearing this? Impossible!”

“But you can do nothing until daylight comes.”

“That is true, and I am wondering what I shall be able to do then. That is why I cannot sleep.”

In vain Rattleton urged Frank to lie down and rest. At last he gave it up and went into the other room to tell the boys how hard hit Frank was by the news concerning his old sweetheart.

“I don’t doubt me,” nodded Hans. “Thot am shust like Vrankie. He vos alvays thinking a great deal more of somepody else apout, than he vas himself of.”

“Begorra,” put in Barney, “it is no more than nacheral he should think a great dale av thot girrul. They wur the bist av swatehearts at Fardale. Although they sometimes jist quarreled a bit it’s true love thot nivver did run smooth at all, at all, and there’s no telling what may happen betwane thim. For sure there is very little smoothness in their love affairs.”

“Ah, Merriwell is always falling in love,” said Diamond. “I do not believe it goes very deep with him.”

“An’ if it is yersilf thot thinks so!” cried Barney, contemptuously, “it’s little ye know about him, thin!”

Jack flushed, and seemed on the point of resenting this plain speech, but bit his lip and remained silent, although he gave Barney a black look.

The Irish lad did not mind looks, however, and as for words, he had a proverbial Irish tongue that could send back a witty and cutting reply for any sort of speech.

After meeting Hans in San Francisco, Barney had been stopping with Hans at a boarding house to which they now decided to return for the night.

Before leaving, however, they had a few words with Frank, who made them promise to come around early in the morning.

“I may have thought of some plan of action by that time,” he said. “Think the matter over yourselves, boys, perhaps you may be able to aid me. You know Inza, and – well, you know me. You must know I would give anything I possess to locate her now.”

“You pet mine poots we know dot,” nodded Hans.

“Begorra, you’re th’ roight stuff, Frankie, an’ Oi’m riddy to foight wid yer bist frind if he maloigns ye,” said Barney, thinking of Diamond.

Frank pressed their hands and bade them good-night. Then they departed.

CHAPTER IV – INZA’S LETTER

Barney and Hans did not turn up on the following morning as soon as Frank expected they would, and as he had forgotten to ask where they boarded, he could not go to find them.

Merriwell had spent a restless, almost a sleepless night. But, although his face was pale, he seemed as full of energy as ever.

He had conceived a plan by which, with Barney’s aid, he fancied he might find Inza. But Barney – where was he?

It was past nine o’clock when the Irish lad came tearing up to the hotel, followed by Hans, who was puffing and blowing like a porpoise, his eyes bulging from his head, his face expressing the wildest excitement.

“Frankie!” gasped Barney.

“Vrankie!” panted Hans.

“What is it?” asked Frank, seeing something unusual had happened.

“It’s news, we hiv’, me b’y!”

“Yah! id vas news we haf!”

“News!” exclaimed Frank, “what sort of news? Have you found Inza?”

“It’s not found her yit we hiv’, me b’y, but we’ll foind her soon, or Oi’ll ate me boots!”

“Yah! and I shall make a square meal mit mine coat off!”

Frank grasped Barney by the shoulder.

“You have found a clew – is that it? Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

“Begorra, it’s a bit loait we stayed up last night, Frankie, an’ Oi overslipt this morning. As for this Dutch chase, he nivver would, wake up at all, at all, av it wur not fer me. He would slape roight on fer a wake.”

“Oxscuce me,” said Hans. “No wake in mine. Vhat you took me for – an Irishmans, aind’t id?”

“Tell me what it is you have found out,” cried Frank, sharply.

With frantic haste Barney tore something from his pocket and waved it wildly in the air.

“Here it is, me b’y!” he shouted.

“Yah, thar it vas!” squealed Hans.

“What is it? Give it to me!” commanded Frank.

Then he snatched the object from Barney’s hands.

It was a letter.

“Inza’s writing!” said Frank, hoarsely, as he glanced at it. “I would know it anywhere! A letter to you, Barney! When did you receive this?”

“In th’ mornin’ mail, me b’y, afther Oi got up. So ye say it is well Oi overslipt mysilf, or Oi would not have bin there to recave th’ mail whin it was delivered.”

The envelope had been torn open in a ragged manner, showing Barney had opened it with great haste.

Frank lost no time in drawing forth the letter. In a moment he was reading it. It ran as follows:

“Dear Barney: I am writing this on the sly, hoping to find an opportunity to mail it to you. I am to be taken from the city in the morning by my father and this horrid Lord Stanford. How I despise him! But he seems to have plenty of money, and father is all taken up with him. Somehow, I fancy he has not as much money as he pretends to have. I am sure he thinks me an heiress, although I have told him a hundred times I am not. Father, however, has caused him to think we are very well to do, financially, and that is enough to lead the scheming scoundrel on. It seems to make no difference to him when I tell him how much I dislike him. He simply laughs and says I will get over that by and by when we are married. That will never be. I would not marry him if he were the last man in the world – so there!

“But I am forgetting to tell you what I started to say. Lord Stanford has bought a yacht, and he is going to take us away on it to-morrow morning. I have refused to go. Father says I must. Oh, dear! I wish I had some one who could help me escape from this horrid Englishman. If Frank Merriwell were here – dear old Frank! I could call on him. Oh, what would I give to see him now? But he is far away – so far away.

“If I could get another good chance, I would run away. I may get a chance. I am afraid you cannot help me again, for you have been watched. To-night I heard Lord Stanford tell father where you were, and that is how I know your address.

“Stanford’s yacht is somewhere out toward North Beach or Black Point. I know this from overhearing his talk with father. In the morning, unless I am fortunate enough to give them the slip, he will take me on board for the cruise. Where they are going I do not know. Oh, if you could aid me to get away from them once more; but I know it is too much to ask you to try this again. If I had been able to reach my aunt in Sacramento, I think she would have persuaded father to drop his scheme of marrying me to Lord Stanford.

“Good-by, Barney. You were always Frank’s stanchest friend and admirer, and that is why I have thought so much of you and trusted you so fully. Dear Frank, where can he be? Oh, wouldn’t he give it to this horrid Englishman if he were here and knew the truth? He would not be afraid of a hundred Lord Stanfords. He never was afraid of anything in his life! I dreamed of him last night, and I thought he had come to aid me. When I awakened and found it was only a dream, I cried myself to sleep again.

“Oh, Barney! father came so near catching me writing this letter just now! I was barely able to conceal it from him in time. He asked me what I was doing, and I fibbed by saying, ‘nothing at all, father.’ He was so suspicious, and I am taking desperate chances in adding these few lines. I shall try to bribe the bell boy to post this letter for me, and I hope it will reach you all right. Farewell,

Inza.”

To the astonishment of both Barney and Hans the reading of this letter did not seem to excite Frank at all. There was a slight movement of the muscles of his face when Inza mentioned him, but that was all.

When he had finished, he folded the letter quickly and put it into his pocket.

“Barney,” he said, sharply, “order a cab without delay. Have it at the door in five minutes.”

“All right, me b’y!” cried Barney, and he made a rush to obey,

Frank disappeared in the other direction, and Hans was left alone.

“Well, I vender vere I vas at,” said the Dutch boy, as he stared around him in a bewildered manner. “Vat vas it Vrankie’s going to done alretty yet? It don’t took him more than vive hours to make oop his mind he vas going to do someding. I pet me your life he yas going to git after dot Lord Stanford like a kioodle dog after a pone.”

Before five minutes had passed Frank came rushing from the hotel and found Barney waiting at the door, while the cab was standing near the curb.

“Here yes are, me b’y,” cried the Irish lad.

“Good!” exclaimed Frank, with satisfaction.

Then he addressed the driver.

“How far is it to North Beach?” he asked.

“Two miles, sir,” was the answer.

“Can you make it in twenty minutes?”

“I doubt it, sir.”

“Here is five dollars,” said Frank, handing the driver the money. “Get me to North Beach in twenty minutes and you shall have five more.”

The man seized the money eagerly, and then asked:

“What part of North Beach do you want to go to, Sir?”

“I don’t know,” confessed Merry.

The driver looked surprised.

“Don’t know!” he exclaimed in a puzzled way. “Well, that is strange.”

“Is Black Point anywhere near North Beach?” asked Frank, hurriedly.

“Sure,” nodded the driver.

“Then take us out that way,” ordered Frank, as he bundled Barney into the cab, followed himself and slammed the door.

The driver whipped up his horses, and away they went with a rattlety-bump just as Hans came waddling out of the hotel, crying for them to hold on.

Frank looked at his watch.

“Five minutes of ten,” he said. “We shall get there at a quarter after ten. Even that may be too late.”

“Howly Mowses!” exclaimed Barney. “It’s the divvil’s own rush ye do be in, an’ ye don’t same to be in a hurry, ayther. But how are we going to foind Lord Stanford’s yacht, afther we get there, Frankie? Oi’d loike to have yez explain.”

“That’s something – I can’t tell – yet,” acknowledged Frank, as the cab dashed around a corner and pitched them into a heap against one side. “We’ll have to – hunt for – it.”

“Musha! musha!” gasped the Irish lad. “It’s a sure thing thot droiver manes to earn the other foive dollars.”

For Barney it was a somewhat exciting ride at first, as the street was filled with cars, carriages and trucks, each one of which seemed trying to get to some destination regardless of all the others. In and out, here and there, dodging in front of a car, narrowly missing the wheel of a truck, slinking through a narrow space between two heavy teams, turning to the right, turning to the left, on rattled the cab. The boys were thrown about as if they had been seated in a small boat that was at the mercy of an angry sea.

At length the streets were less obstructed, and the driver made greater speed. He wielded the whip mercilessly.

“This is fun aloive,” gasped Barney. “Oi’ll not hiv’ a whole bone in me body whin Oi git there.”

Frank said nothing, but looked at his watch, after which he nodded in a satisfied manner.

“Is it fast enough fer yez – we are going – Frankie?” asked Barney, with a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

“If it is only two miles to North Beach we will get there in less than fifteen minutes,” said Frank.

“But it’s did we may be whin we arroive, me b’y.”

Crack! crack! crack! sounded the driver’s whip, each snap being like the report of a pistol. Clatter! clatter! co-lat-ter! sounded the hoofs of the galloping horses.

“Oi’ve played football a little in me loife,” said Barney, as he picked himself up from the bottom of the cab, only to be thrown down again with greater violence, “but Oi’ll admit this takes th’ cake. Football is not in it, at all, at all.”

Still Frank was silent. Now he held his watch in his hand his eyes fastened upon it. Montgomery Avenue was reached, and they turned into it.

At the corner of the next street they nearly ran down another carriage. By a sharp turn to the right, the driver whirled alongside of the cab into which he had nearly crashed.

Looking from the window, Frank gazed directly into the window of the other cab.

A cry escaped his lips:

“Inza – there she is!”

There was an answering cry, and the face of a beautiful girl appeared at the window of the other cab.

“Frank!” she almost screamed. “Frank, is it you?”

Then a pair of hands grasped her, and pulled her back from view.

But Frank had seen enough, and now his very heart was on fire with excitement. Inza – he had found her.

CHAPTER V – TO THE RESCUE

Both Frank and Barney saw that a struggle was going on in the other cab. They could hear Inza crying for some one to let her go, and the sound of her voice made Frank more desperate than ever.

“The scoundrel!” he panted, trying to tear open the door and spring out. “I’d like to choke the breath of life out of him! If he harms her, I will.”

“Thot’s roight, me b’y!” shouted Barney. “We’ll give it to th’ spalpeen!”

Then the driver of the other cab whipped up his horses, and away they dashed getting in ahead of the one carrying Frank and Barney.

“They are making for the harbor!” grated Frank. “That is how it happens we came upon them.”

“Roight again, as ye always are,” agreed Barney.

Frank thrust his head out of the window and shouted to the driver.

“After them! after them! Don’t let them get away, on your life!”

“After who?” asked the driver.

“That cab!” flashed back Frank. “Are you dazed or drunk? Whip up, man – whip up!”

“They didn’t do nothing,” declared the driver. “It was me who came near running into them.”

“Hang it!” burst from Merriwell. “I don’t care about that! I want you to follow them!”

“What for?” asked the driver.

“Because I tell you to, you stupid blockhead!” Frank almost roared. “It will be worth ten dollars to you if you keep them in sight.”

“I will do it or kill my horses!” declared the man.

The other cab had obtained quite a start while Frank was urging the driver to start in pursuit.

“It’s a hot toime we’re in fer, me b’y,” said Barney.

“It’s a hot chase I propose to give them,” came determinedly from Merriwell’s lips. “Fortune has favored us, and now we must not let them get away.”

“Pwhat do yez mane to do afther ye catch thim?”

“Don’t know now. I’ll be able to tell better when we catch them.”