It happened that Inza Burrage, who had concealed herself some distance away, being directed by the sound of voices during the struggle, had approached the cliff just in time to witness Del Norte fall. To her horrified eyes it seemed that Frank sprang forward with hand outthrust and hurled the wretched Mexican over the precipice. She stopped in her tracks, turned to stone by what she had witnessed.
Merry stood for a moment or two as if horrified. As he dropped on his hands and knees and peered over the brink, he heard a crashing sound amid the treetops far, far below.
“They will find a dead Mexican down there!” he muttered.
CHAPTER XXIX
IN THE HANDS OF DEL NORTE.
“Pard,” said Brad Buckhart, edging his chair close to Dick as they sat on the veranda of the hotel, “this yere business is a whole lot like a Sunday-school picnic to me. I sure am getting some weary of it. I don’t want to kick any, but it seems to me you’re not having a hilarious old time yourself.”
“Oh, I am enjoying it all right,” answered Dick.
“Still don’t you feel a heap like a misfit in this crowd? If it were our bunch it would be different. We don’t seem to pair up any. There’s Rattleton, he’s satisfied to sit and look on, and Browning is too lazy to be disturbed over anything, while the rest of the party kind of pair up and go it first-rate. I don’t want to make a holler, but I’d some prefer to be down on the Sachem about now, and I think we can add to the bliss of the others if we vamoose.”
“Well, if you’re anxious to go——” began Dick.
“Not exactly anxious, but I am tired of keeping still. We won’t break up the congregation any if we pull out by our own selves, partner.”