There were evidences that this cave had been occupied by some person. Merry saw at once that this unknown person might have been in the mouth of the cave at the time the mysterious voice was heard, and that beyond question he was the singer and the one who had warned them.
It was midday when Worthington was found. They discovered him in a thicket, locked fast in the arms of another man, whose clothes were ragged and torn, and who looked like a hermit or a wild man. The thicket in that vicinity was smashed and broken, and betrayed evidences of a fierce struggle. Worthington’s hands were fastened on the stranger’s throat, and both men were stone-dead.
“I know that man!” cried Merry, in astonishment. “I met him in Holbrook last spring. I told him of Benson Clark’s death. He was once Clark’s partner. Since that time he must have searched for Clark’s mine and made his way to this valley. This explains the mystery. This explains how he knew me and knew of Benson Clark.”
“Yes, that explains it,” nodded Hodge. “But now, Frank—what are we to do?”
“We will give these poor fellows decent burial, and after that——”
“After that—what?”
“Shawmut and Henry must be turned over to the law. We must dispose of them as soon as possible. Then there will be plenty of time to return here and locate Benson Clark’s lost mine.”
And that plan was carried out. In a few days Frank Merriwell, Bart Hodge, Cap’n Wiley and little Abe rode into Prescott, Arizona, escorting their captives, whom they turned over to the officers of the law. Merry was ready to make a serious charge against the men, but, after listening to his story, the city official said:
“Better not trouble yourself about it, Mr. Merriwell. Those chaps are old offenders! They have been wanted for some time for stage robbing, horse stealing, and for the malicious murder of a man in Crown King and another in Cherry. Did you ever hear of Spike Riley?”
“Seems to me,” said Frank, “I have heard of him as a bad man who was associated with the Kid Grafton gang.”