So the work continued, although everybody but Frank seemed anxious and nervous. Merry was perfectly cool, and seemed to have forgotten all that had occurred and that Joe Hooker had departed to look for his terrible brother.
It was not much more than thirty minutes before there was the sound of heavy feet on the stairs, and, after taking a look down, Ephraim ran to Frank, exclaiming:
“They’re comin’, by gosh!”
Not a word did Merry say, but he advanced to meet the Hookers, buttoning his coat tightly around him.
Joe Hooker came in first, his face shining with triumph. He was followed by a large man, who was dressed in the rough garments of a cowboy and wore a wide-brimmed hat, with a cartridge band round it. This fellow had a flushed face and reddish eyes. He did look decidedly savage.
“Wherever is this yar kay-o-te?” he demanded.
“Right there!” cried Joe, pointing at Frank Merriwell. “That is the chap! He’s the one, Sam!”
The cowboy stopped, placed his hands on his hips, and glared at Frank in great amazement.
“Hey?” he shouted. “Is that him?”
“It is,” assured Joe.