While they were talking Wiley came rushing in.
“The gent who lately descended the stairs with such graceful impetuosity is now in consultation with the city marshal,” he declared. “I traced him thither, and I have left one Bradley Buckhart to linger near and keep an eagle eye upon his movements.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Dick; “I believe he does mean to have you arrested, Frank.”
“His movement seems to indicate something of the sort,” was Frank’s cool confession. “I suppose he will make a charge of personal assault, with the idea of putting me to inconvenience and detaining me until he can again try the effect of his threats of arrest on a more serious charge. Were I sure things are all right at the Enchanted Valley, I would not mind. I am afraid you have made a mess of it, cap’n, in sending those men there.”
“It seems that I have a clever little way of putting my foot into it,” retorted the sailor. “When I seek to do what I supremely consider to be for the best I make a bobble.”
“Yet we will not worry over that now,” said Merry. “However, in case of emergency, Dick, I wish you to have my horse constantly ready for me. If anything happens that I decide to get out in a hurry, you, and Brad, and Wiley are to take care of Felicia and little Abe.”
“All right,” nodded Dick. “I will see to it at once.”
Ten minutes later Frank was standing alone upon the steps of the hotel, when a man on horseback came riding furiously down the street. He was covered with dust, and his horse was so spent that it was only by the most savage urging that the beast was forced into a gallop. Behind the man, at a distance, came two more horsemen, who were likewise spurring their mounts mercilessly. Plainly they were in pursuit of the man in advance.
As Merry was wondering what it meant, the horse of the fugitive went down, as if shot, directly in front of the hotel, flinging the rider, who seemed stunned.
With a great clatter of hoofs, the pursuers came up and stopped short, leaping from their saddles. As one of them dismounted, he whipped out a wicked-looking knife. Both seemed to be desperadoes, and it was evident that their intention toward the fugitive was anything but friendly.