When the procession pa.s.sed along the streets the queen was recognized everywhere, and the throngs cheered her loudly.

But, out of the thousands, hundreds were heard to say:

"Where is the strange youth who saved her from the mad steer? He should be on the same barge."

Frank's heart leaped as he saw the mysterious girl in the procession.

"There she is!" was his thought. "How can I follow her? How can I trace her and find out who she is?"

As the barge came nearer, he forced his way to the very edge of the crowd that lined the street, without having decided what he would do, but hoping she would see and recognize him.

When the barge was almost opposite, he stepped out a little from the line and lifted his hat.

She saw him!

In a moment, as if she had been looking for him, she caught the crown of flowers from her head and tossed them toward him, crying:

"For the hero!"

He caught them skillfully with his right hand, his hat still in his left. And the hot blood mounted to his face as he saw her tossing kisses toward him with both hands.

"What's it mean?" asked a spectator.

"Don't know," answered another.

But a third cried:

"I'll tell you what it means! That young fellow is the one who saved the Queen of Flowers from the mad steer! I know him, for I saw him do it, and I observed his face."

"That explains why she flung her crown to him and called him the hero."

"Yes, that explains it."

"Three cheers for the hero!"

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"

The crowd burst into wild cheering, and there was a general struggle to get a fair view of Frank Merriwell, who had suddenly become the object of attention, the splendors of the parade being forgotten for the time.

Frank was confused and bewildered, and he sought to get away as quickly as possible, hoping to follow the Queen of Flowers. But he found his way blocked on every hand, and a hundred voices seemed to be asking:

"What's your name?"

"Where do you belong?"

"Won't you please tell us your name?"

"Haven't I seen you in New York?"

"Aren't you from Chicago?"

Somewhat dazed though he was, Frank noted that, beyond a doubt, the ones who were so very curious and who so rudely demanded his name were visitors in New Orleans. More than that, from their appearance, they were people who would not think of such acts at home, but now were eager to know the Northern lad who by one nervy and daring act had made himself generally talked about in a Southern city.

Some of the women declared he was "So handsome!" and "So manly!" to Frank's increasing dismay.

"I'd give a hundred dollars to get out of this!" he thought.

He must have spoken the words aloud, although he was not aware of it, for a voice at his elbow, low and musical, said:

"Come dis-a-way, senor, an' I will tek yo' out of it."

Frank saw Manuel Mazaro close at hand. The Spaniard--for such Mazaro was--bowed gracefully, and smiled pleasantly upon the boy from the North.

A moment Frank hesitated, and then he said:

"Lead on; I'll follow."

Quickly Mazaro skirted the edge of the throng for a short distance, plunged into the ma.s.s, made sure Frank was close behind, and then forced his way through to a doorway.

"Dis-a way," he invited.

Frank hesitated.

"Where does it lead?"

"Through a pa.s.sage to annodare street, senor."

Frank felt his revolver in his pocket, and he knew it was loaded for instant use.

"I want to get ahead of this procession--I want to see the Queen of Flowers again."

"I will tek yo' there, senor."

"Lead on."

Frank pa.s.sed his hand through the crown of flowers, to which he still clung. Without being seen, he took his revolver from his pocket, and held it concealed in the ma.s.s of flowers. It was a self-c.o.c.ker, and he could use it skillfully.

As Mazaro had said, the doorway led into a pa.s.sage. This was very narrow, and quite dark.

No sooner were they fairly in this place than Frank regretted that he had come, for he realized that it was a most excellent chance for a.s.sa.s.sination and robbery.

His one fear was of being attacked behind. He was quite ready for any that might rise in front.

"Dis-a way, senor," Mazaro kept repeating. "Dis-a way."

Frank fancied the fellow was speaking louder than was necessary. In fact, he could not see that it was necessary for Mazaro to speak at all.

And then the boy was sure he heard footsteps behind them!