[CHAPTER VIII.]
THE DEATH-SHOT.
Frank was about to follow, when Big Monte clutched weakly at his foot.
"Pard," said the ruffian, "I may never git another chanct to say it. You're the white stuff! They'd shore hanged me a whole lot but for you. Now I has a chanct to die comfortable an' respectable like. Thankee, Frank Merriwell."
"Don't mention it!" said Frank. "Die as comfortably as you can. I have to go out to help the boys shoot a few of your pards."
"I ain't got northin' agin' them," said Monte; "but I wishes ye luck. They're in the wrong, an' you're right."
At this moment the sound of shooting outside startled Merry, and, without another word, he rushed forth, leaving Monte lying there.
Cimarron Bill had counted on capturing the mine by strategy and meeting with very little resistance. When Frank had returned and ridden into the valley Bill knew that it would not do to delay longer, and he had led his men in swift pursuit.