“I hardly fancy anything of that sort has happened to my brother.”
Merry called for the housekeeper, who soon came and he turned Felicia over to her, saying:
“Look out for her, Mrs. Jones. Take care of her and don’t let her worry more than can be helped.”
“Lord love her sweet soul!” exclaimed the housekeeper, as she received the agitated girl from Frank and patted and petted her. “I will look after her, Mr. Merriwell. Don’t you be afraid of that. There, there, dear,” she said, softly stroking Felicia’s cheek. “Don’t you take on so. Why, they will find your cousin all right.”
“You bet your boots!” muttered Brad Buckhart, who was examining a long-barreled revolver as he spoke. “We will hit the trail and find him in less than two shakes of a steer’s hoof.”
Wiley now came panting back into the room, struck an attitude, and made a salute.
“Our land-going craft are at the pier outside.”
Frank paused only to kiss Felicia and whisper a last word in her ear. As he turned to leave the room, he came face to face with Macklyn Morgan near the door.
Morgan looked at him in a singular manner and smiled.
“Excuse me, sir. You seem to be in a great hurry about something.”