Diamond was downcast again.
“Everything is going against us,” he declared. “There is fate in it. I am afraid we’ll not get out of this wretched desert.”
“Oh, you’re unwell, that’s what’s the matter with you!” declared Harry, scornfully. “I’ll be glad when you are yourself again.”
“That’s all right,” muttered Diamond. “You are too thoughtless, that’s what’s the matter with you.”
They approached the spot where the mysterious skeleton had been seen, and both were watching for the niche in the rocks.
Suddenly they were startled by hearing a wild cry from far above their heads, and looking upward they saw Frank Merriwell running along the very brink of the cliff, but limping badly, as if he were lame.
But what astonished and startled them the most was to see a strange-looking, bare-headed man, who was in close pursuit of Frank. Above his head the man wildly flourished a gleaming, long-bladed knife, while he uttered loud cries of rage.
“Smoly hoke!” cried Harry. “Will you look at that!”
Diamond suddenly grew intensely excited.
“What can we do?—what can we do?” he exclaimed. “Frank is hurt! That creature is running him down! He will murder him!”