"Well," he said, fiercely, "I was the first one who wanted to go after Merriwell, but I seem to be left out of it. All right! I may come later. Perhaps you will need me."
"Perhaps so," confessed Bart, grimly. "Give us plenty of time to make a circuit of the island and return here. Then, if we have not appeared, you will have a reason for coming."
"Und I vill come mit him," put in Hans.
"Don't leave the White Wings unless you feel it is for the best. We are going prepared for trouble, and it will be a warm crowd that gets the best of us. Come on."
Away went Bart and the big Yale man, scrambling up the bank with their guns and quickly disappearing into the bushes.
Bart took the lead, but Browning was at his heels, swinging along with a stride that covered ground swiftly. There was a look of intense anxiety on the face of the giant.
Round the island to the quarry they went, down the railroad they hurried, and soon they were in sight of the spot where not many hours before Frank had nearly lost his life.
Browning drew a breath of relief when they did not find the mangled body of Merriwell stretched on the
track. Somehow he had felt it was possible the wretches had captured Frank and completed their work at last, and he was dreading to walk down that railroad, fearing he should find the friend he loved and admired dead upon the rails.
"He is not here."