Riding through a narrow pass, he came into a valley that was somewhat wooded and had a decidedly familiar aspect. Five minutes later he drew rein, uttering an exclamation of surprise.
Before him, at a distance, stood an old hut.
It required no second glance to show Merriwell that it was the very hut where he had been held a captive by Cimarron Bill and his gang.
Frank looked around keenly, but the valley seemed desolate, and apparently he and his horse were the only living creatures within its confines.
"The very place!" said Merry. "I wonder how Bill liked my answer to his proposition. He must have been decidedly surprised when he found me missing in the morning."
He rode forward toward the hut, having a fancy to look around the place.
As he drew nearer, suddenly his horse plunged forward and fell, while a shot rang out.
Merry had seen a puff of smoke come from the window of the hut. He managed to jerk his feet from the stirrups and drop to the ground behind the body of the horse, where he lay quite still.
The animal had been shot through the brain, and it did not even kick after falling.