CHAPTER XLI.
FACING DEATH.
Frank Merriwell's blood was aroused, and he did not feel like letting Wade Miller drive him like a hunted dog from the mountains.
"By this time I should think you would have confidence in my ability to take care of myself against this man Miller," he said, somewhat testily.
"Yo're ther best fighter I ever saw, but that won't 'mount ter anything agin' ther power Miller will set on yer. He's pop-ler, is Wade Miller, an' he'll have ther hull maountings ter back him."
"I shall not run for Miller and all his friends. Right is right, and I have as good right here as he."
"Hang me!" cried Kate, admiringly; "hang me ef I don't like you-uns' pluck. You may find that you'll need a friend afore yo're done with Wade. Ef ye do—wal, mebbe Kate Kenyon won't be fur off."
"Thank you," said Frank. "It is a good thing to know I shall have one friend in the mountains."
"Huah!" grunted a voice, and Mrs. Kenyon was seen stolidly standing in the dusk. "Mebbe you-uns will find my Kate ther best friend ye could have. Come, gal, it's time ter g'win."