CHAPTER IX.
WHAT THE MONK TOLD THEM.
"By all that's wonderful!" exclaimed Merry, as he beheld his brother. "Ithought I must be dreaming when I heard you singing. Dick, how did youcome here?"
"I heard nothing from you, Frank," was the reply. "I didn't know forsure that you had received my message. I did know that Felicia was introuble and in danger, and so I resolved to hasten to her at once. WhenI reached San Diego I found she was gone and that you had been thereahead of me. I have been seeking to overtake you ever since. Thisafternoon we saw you far away in the valley, although we could not becertain it was you. You had a companion. We thought it might be BartHodge."
Dick had made this explanation hastily, after the affectionate meetingbetween the brothers.
"It was not Hodge," said Frank; "far from it! It was a man I fell inwith on the trail, and a most treacherous individual he proved to be."
Then he told of the encounter with Dulzura's ruffianly crew, uponhearing which Dick's companion of the trail uttered a cry.
"Whoop!" he shouted. "That certain was a hot old scrimmage. Greattarantulas! Why didn't we come up in time to get into the fracas!Howling tomcats! but that certain would have been the real stuff! Andyou beat the whole bunch off, did you, Mr. Merriwell? That's the kind oftimber the Merriwells are made of! You hear me gently warble!"
"Hello, Buckhart!" exclaimed Frank, as the chap swung down from thesaddle. Brad Buckhart and Dick Merriwell were chums at the FardaleMilitary Academy, and Frank knew him for one of the pluckiest youngfellows he had ever met. Buckhart was a Texan through and through.
"Put her there, Mr. Merriwell," said Brad, as he extended his hand--"puther there for ninety days! It does my optics a heap of good to rest themon your phiz. But I'll never get over our late arrival on the scene ofaction."
"We knew you were here somewhere, Frank, when we heard you join in 'FairFardale,'" said Dick.
"And by that sound the greasers knew I had friends coming," added Merry."It stopped them and sent them scurrying off in a hurry."
"Where are they now?" asked Brad. "Why don't they sail right out hereand light into us? Oh, great horn spoon! I haven't taken in a red-hotfight for so long that I am all rusty in the joints."
"Where is Felicia, Frank?" anxiously asked Dick.
Merry shook his head.
"I can't answer that question yet," he confessed. "I have followed herthus far; of that I am satisfied, for otherwise I don't believe thesemen would have attacked me."
Through the shadows a dark figure came slowly toward them from thedirection of the mission building.
"Whoever is this yere?" exclaimed Buckhart.
"It's the old priest," said Merry, as he saw the cloaked and hoodedfigure.
The old man was once more leaning on his crooked staff, which Merry haddropped as he hastened to meet his brother. Even in the gatheringdarkness there was about him an air of agitation and excitement.
"My son," he said, in a trembling voice, still speaking in Spanish, "Ihope you are not harmed."
"Whatever is this he is shooting at you?" inquired Buckhart. "Is itChoctaw or Chinese?"
Paying no attention to Brad, Merry questioned the monk, also speaking inSpanish.
"Father," he said, "who were those men, and how came they to be here?"
"My son, I knew not that there were so many of them. Two came to me topray in the mission. The others, who were hidden outside, I saw notuntil they appeared. Why did they attack you?"
"Because they are wicked men, father, who have stolen from her home alittle girl. I am seeking her, hoping to restore her to her friends."
"This is a strange story you tell me, my son. Who is the child, and whydid they take her from her home?"
"There's much mystery about it, father. She's the daughter of a Spanishgentleman, who became an exile from his own country. There are reasonsto suppose she may be an heiress. Indeed, that seems the onlyexplanation of her singular abduction. I have traced her hither, father.Can you tell me anything to assist in my search?"
The old man shook his hooded head, his face hidden by deep shadows.
"Nothing, my son--nothing," he declared, drawing a little nearer, as ifto lay his hand upon Frank. "I would I could aid you."
Suddenly, to the astonishment of both Dick and Brad, Merry flung himselfupon the monk, grasping his wrist and dropping him in a twinkling. Hehurled the agitated recluse flat upon his back and knelt upon his chest.
"Frank! Frank!" palpitated Dick. "What are you doing? Don't hurt him!"
"Strike a match, one of you," commanded Merry. "Give us a look at hisface."
The man struggled violently, but Frank's strength was too much for him,and he was pinned fast.
Dick quickly struck a match and bent over, shading it with his hands,flinging the light downward upon the face of the man Merry held.
"Just as I thought!" Merry exclaimed, in satisfaction, as the lightshowed him, not the features of the old monk, but those of a muchyounger man, with dark complexion and a prominent triangular scar on hisright cheek. "This is not the holy father. He couldn't deceive me withhis attempt to imitate the father's voice. I have seen this gentleman ona previous occasion. He dogged my steps in San Diego after I left RufusStaples' house."
It was, in truth, the same man Merry had warned on the street corner inSan Diego. The little wretch swore savagely in Spanish and glared at hiscaptors.
"Spare your breath, my fine fellow," said Frank. "Profanity will nothelp you."
"Well, whatever was the varmint trying to do?" cried Buckhart. "Icertain thought he was going to bless you."
"He would have blessed me with a knife between my ribs had I beendeceived by him," asserted Merriwell. "In my saddlebags you will findsome stout cord. Give it to me."
A few moments later, in spite of his occasional struggles, the capturedrascal was securely bound.
"There," said Merry, "I think that will hold you for a while. Now, boys,I am going to see what has become of the holy father. This is hiscloak."
"You're not going back there alone," protested Dick, at once.
"Not on your life!" agreed Buckhart. "We are with you, Frank."
They followed him into the yard, where the darkness was now deep, andcame together to the entrance of the mission, but without discoveringanything of the aged monk. Standing in the corridor, they peered in atthe yawning door, but could see or hear nothing. Frank called to themonk, but only echoes answered him from the black interior of themission.
"Here's where you may get all the fight you want, Buckhart," he saidgrimly. "Be ready for anything, boys."
"I am a heap ready, you bet your boots!" answered the Texan, who had apistol in his hand.
"Same here," said Dick.
Frank struck a match on the cemented wall. A cold wind from the interiorof the building came rushing through the open door and blew it out. Itwas like the breath of some dangerous, unseen monster hidden within themission. Merry promptly struck another match. This time he shaded itwith his hands and protected it until it sprang into a strong glow.Then, with his hands concaved behind it, he advanced through thedoorway, throwing its light forward. Almost immediately an exclamationescaped his lips, for a few feet within, lying on the cold floor, hediscovered a human form. As he bent over the figure, he saw to hisdismay it was the monk from whose body the brown cloak had beenstripped.
Then the match went out.
"Is he dead, Frank?" whispered Dick.
"I can't tell," answered Merry. "I didn't get a fair look at him. Wewill know in a moment."
He lighted another match and bent over the prostrate man. The lightshowed him the eyes of the monk fixed stonily on his face. It alsoshowed him that a gag had been forced between the old man's teeth andfastened there. The father was bound securely with a lariat.
"He is far from dead!" exclaimed Merry, in satisfaction. "Here, Dick,cut this rope and set him free. Get that gag out of his mouth, while Ihold matches for you to do so."
Soon the rope was cut, the gag removed, and together they lifted the oldman to his feet. Frank then picked him up and carried him out into theopen air.
"You seem to have met with misfortune, father," he said. "I sincerelyhope you are not harmed much."
"My son," quavered the agitated monk, "it is not my body that is harmed;it is my spirit. Against no living creature in all the world would Iraise my hand. Why should any one seize me and choke me in such amanner? Much less, why should any who profess to be of the holy faith dosuch a thing?"
"They were frauds, father--frauds and rascals of the blackest dye."
"But two of them came here to pray," murmured the priest, as if he couldnot believe such a thing possible. "Have we not suffered indignitiesenough? Our lands have been taken from us and we have been stripped ofeverything."
"They were infidels, father. You may be sure of that."
"Infidels and impostors!" exclaimed the old man, with a slight show ofspirit. "But I couldn't think men who spoke the language of old Spainand who prayed to Heaven could be such base creatures."
"What they certain deserve," growled Buckhart, unable to repress hisindignation longer, "is to be shot up a whole lot, and I'd sure like thejob of doing it."
"I don't understand it--I cannot understand it!" muttered the monk."It's far beyond me to comprehend. Why did they set upon me, my son?" hequestioned, his unsteady hand touching Frank's arm. "Why did they seekto slay you?"
"Wait a minute, father, and I will explain," said Merry.
He then told briefly of the abduction of Felicia and his pursuit of hercaptors. As he spoke, the aged listener betrayed some signs ofexcitement.
"My son, is all this true?" he solemnly questioned. "You are not one ofour faith, yet your words ring true."
"I swear it, father."
"Then I have been twice deceived!" cried the old man, with surprisingenergy, shaking his hands in the empty air. "Yesterday there came heretwo men and a sweet-faced child. They told me they were taking her home.I believed them. With her they knelt at the shrine to pray. I blessedthem, and they went on their way."
"At last!" burst from Merry's lips. "Now there's no question. Now weknow we're on the right trail! Father, that little girl is a cousin ofmy half-brother here. He will tell you if I have spoken the truth."
"Every word of it is true," affirmed Dick, who spoke Spanish as fluentlyas Frank. "If you can tell us whither they were taking her, father, youmay aid us greatly in our search for her."
"Alas! it is not possible for me to tell you! I know that they werebound eastward. Beyond these mountains are the great San Bernardinoplains, a mighty and trackless desert. Where they could go in thatdirection I cannot say."
"Is it possible to cross the desert?" questioned Dick.
"It is a waste of burning sand. Who tries to cross it on foot or mountedis almost certain to leave his bones somewhere in that desert."
"Then if they kept straight on----"
"If they kept straight on," said the old monk, "I fear greatly you willnever again behold the child you seek."
"They are not fools!" exclaimed Frank. "It is not likely they will tryto cross the desert. The fact that they have taken so much trouble toendeavor to check pursuit here is proof they felt hard pushed. Is thereno town, no human habitation beyond these mountains?"
"No town," declared the father. "Straight over to the east you will cometo the El Diablo Valley. It is deep and wild, and in it are some ruinedbuildings of stone and cement. Tradition says they were built long agoby Joaquin Murietta, a Californian outlaw, who waged war on allAmericans. He expected to retreat there some day and defend himselfagainst all assailants. At least, so the legend runs, although I muchdoubt if he built the castle which is now called Castle Hidalgo. Of lateit has another occupant, who has taken the name of Joaquin--BlackJoaquin he is called."
"Well, this is somewhat interesting, too," declared Merry. "Is this newJoaquin endeavoring to follow in the footsteps of his predecessor?"
"I believe there is a price upon his head."
Merry turned to Dick with sudden conviction.
"Our trail leads to Castle Hidalgo," he asserted. "I am satisfied ofthat. I am also satisfied that I have here encountered some of BlackJoaquin's satellites."
"And I will wager something," Dick added, "that we have one of them thisminute, bound hand and foot, a short distance away."
"That's right," said Frank, "and we may be able to squeeze a littleinformation from him. Father, the man who has your cloak is outside thegate. Perhaps you may know him. Come and look at him."
Together they left the yard and came to the spot where the man with thescar was supposed to be. On the ground lay the old monk's cloak, but theman was gone. Undoubtedly he had been set free by some of his comrades.