A leap carried Frank Merriwell out through the open window, and it seemed that another spring took him to the side of the child, which he caught up in his arms.
At the same moment the string broke and the burro sent the old can whizzing into the branches of a tree near at hand. Twice after this the heels of the excited little beast twinkled in the air, and then, seeming to realize that he had conquered at last, he let forth a triumphant bray.
The boy sprang up and stood quite still, all the laughter gone from his face.
“Are you hurt, Felicia?” asked Merry, as he held the girl in his strong arms.
“Oh, no, no!” she sobbed. “But my Billy is hurt! Put me down—please put me down!”
Frank did so, and she ran to the burro, clasping it round the neck and sobbing as she showered the now quiet little creature with caresses.
Still the old Indian remained motionless by the cabin wall, not even pulling a bit quicker at the pipe to betray that he had been disturbed or interested by what had happened.
Frank turned to the boy.
“Did you do it, Dick?” he asked.
“Do what?” said the boy, with a defiant air.