“It is very queer,” he said. “If he be Frank Merriwell, he should bring da word.”
“I think I know what you mean by that,” said Merry. “‘The word’ is something my father told you I would be able to give when I appeared. I will explain after supper why I am unable to give the word. I believe I can satisfy you, sir.”
“I hope you do dat; but never till you give da word am I to do it.”
“Do what?”
“Dat I shall not tell.”
“It is plain that you are bound not to betray your trust, Mr. Delores, whatever it is. I admire you because you are faithful.”
“An’ I admire you because you whip da Gunnison Bill. How you do it I cannot guess.”
“Oh, papa, he did fight so hard, and I was so afraid!” exclaimed Felicia. “Once I thought sure the bad man would kill him right before me, but I prayed to the Lord.”
“Did you pray?” breathed Frank, drawing her to his knee. “Bless you, sweet little Felicia! Perhaps it was your prayer that saved my life!”
“Do you think so?”