“Got a message,” answered the man. “Got to send it without fail. They meant to stop me. It has been a hot run. They headed me off from Bigbug, and I had to strike for this town. They’ve wasted lots of lead on me; but they were riding too fast to shoot well. And I didn’t hold up to give them an easy chance at me.”
As the man was speaking, Merry assisted him to his feet. His horse had likewise risen, but stood with hanging head, completely pegged out.
“Poor devil!” said the man, sympathetically patting the creature’s neck. “It’s a wonder I didn’t kill you. But even if I did, I was going to send the message to Frank Merriwell, if possible.”
“What’s that?” shouted Frank, in astonishment. “A message to Frank Merriwell! Man, I am Frank Merriwell!”
“You?” was the almost incredulous answer. “Why, Hodge told me to wire to San Diego. He said it might reach you there.”
“I am just back from San Diego. Give me the message.”
The man fumbled in his pocket and brought forth a crumpled piece of paper, which he placed in Merriwell’s hand.
Opening the paper, this was what Merry read:
“If possible, come at once. Trouble at the mines. Plot to seize them. —Hodge.”
“Come into the hotel,” said Frank, turning to the man who had brought this message. “We will send some one to take charge of your horse.”