They talked the situation over for a while. Finally Bart rose and strolled off by himself, Gallup calling after him to look out and not go so far that he could not find his way back.

Hodge was gone almost an hour. His friends were growing alarmed, when he came racing back to them, his face flushed with excitement and his eyes flashing.

"Come, fellows!" he cried, his voice thrilling them. "I've got something to show you! We're wanted mighty bad by a friend of ours who is in trouble!"

They were on their feet.

"Who in thutteration be you talkin' abaout?" asked Gallup.

"Perchance you mean Frank?" said Ready.

"You bet your life!" said Bart. "Make sure your rifles are in working order! Leave the horses right where they're picketed. Leave Jim with them. He'll look after them, if he awakes."

For Whisky Jim continued to sleep soundly through all this.

So they seized their weapons and prepared to follow Bart.

As they ran, Bart made a brief explanation. He had climbed to a point from whence he looked down into a gra.s.sy valley, and there he discovered some horses and men. The horses were feeding, and the men were reclining in the shade, with the exception of one or two. While Bart looked he recognized one of the men, and also saw a girl. At first he thought he must be deceived, but soon he was satisfied that the one he recognized was the comrade he had traveled thousands of miles to join, bringing with him Ready and Gallup.

As he watched, he saw the encounter between Merry and Brazos Tom, and that was enough to satisfy Hodge that his friend was in serious trouble.

Then he hastened back to get Jack and Ephraim.

When Bart again reached the point where he could look into that valley he was astonished to discover that another struggle was taking place down there.

Frank was engaged in a knife-duel with Red Sam, having been forced into it. And Red Sam meant to kill him.

The watching ruffians were gathered around, while Gonchita, a pistol in her hand, was watching to see that the youth had fair play.

Without doubt, the sandy ruffian had expected to find Merriwell easy, and finish him quickly in an engagement of this sort. But Frank Merriwell had been instructed in knife-play by a clever expert, and he soon amazed Red Sam and the other ruffians by meeting the fellow's a.s.sault, catching his blade, parrying thrust after thrust, leaping, dodging, turning, charging, retreating, and making such a wonderful contest of it that the spectators were electrified.

It was Frank's knife that drew first blood. He slit the ruffian's sleeve at the shoulder and cut the man slightly.

Gonchita's dark eyes gleamed. More than ever she marveled at this wonderful youth, who seemed more than a match for any single ruffian of Bill's band.

"He is a wonder!" she told herself. "Oh, he is grand! They meant to kill him. If he beats Red Sam they shall not kill him."

Sam swore when he felt the knife clip his shoulder.

"I'll have your heart's blood!" he snarled.

Frank smiled into his face in a manner that enraptured the watching girl.

"You are welcome to it--if you can get it! But look out for yourself!"

Then he began a whirlwindlike a.s.sault upon Sam, whom he soon bewildered by his movements. He played about the man like a leaping panther. Once Sam struck hard at Frank's breast, and Merry leaped away barely in time, for the keen knife slit the front of his shirt, exposing the clean white skin beneath.

But again and again Frank cut the big ruffian slightly, so that soon Sam was bleeding from almost a dozen wounds and slowly growing weaker in spite of his efforts to brace up.

The knives sometimes flashed together. The men stood and stared into each other's eyes. Then they leaped and dodged and struck and struck again.

Little did Frank dream of the friends who were watching him from above.

Bart Hodge was thrilled into silence by the spectacle. He knelt, with his rifle ready for instant use, panting as the battle for life continued.

"Great gosh all hemlock!" gurgled Ephraim Gallup, his eyes bulging.

"Did you ever see anything like that in all your natteral born days?

Dern my squash ef I ever did!"

"It is beautiful!" said Jack Ready. "Frank is doing almost as well as I could do myself! I'll have to compliment him on his clever work."

Twice Bart Hodge had the b.u.t.t of his rifle against his shoulder, but lowered it without firing.

"He's gittin' the best of the red-headed feller!" panted Gallup.

"Of course!" nodded Ready. "Did you look for anything else to happen?"

"Them men don't like it much of enny."

"They do not seem greatly pleased."

"I bet they all go fer him if he does the red-head up."

"In which case," chirped Jack, "it will be our duty to insert a few lead pills into them."

Bart was not talking. He believed Frank in constant danger of a most deadly sort, and he was watching every move of the ruffians, ready to balk any attempt at treachery.

As Sam weakened Frank pressed him harder. The fellow believed Merry meant to kill him, if possible.

At length Merriwell caught Sam's blade with his own, gave it a sudden twist, and the fellow's knife was sent spinning through the air, to fall to the ground at a distance.

At that moment one of the ruffians suddenly flung up a hand that held a revolver, meaning to shoot Frank through the head.

Before he could fire, however, he pitched forward on his face.

Down from the heights above came the clear report of the rifle in the hands of Bartley Hodge.

Bart had saved the life of his old friend.

CHAPTER XIII.

FRANK'S ESCAPE.

As the ruffian pitched forward on his face, Gonchita uttered a cry. The attention of the men was turned toward the point from which the unexpected shot had come. The Mexican girl caught hold of Merry, thrust a pistol into his hand, and hissed: