Frontier Boys in Frisco

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FRONTIER BOYS IN FRISCO

by

CAPT. WYN ROOSEVELT

Illustrated by Rudolf Mencl

[Illustration: "The panting engine came to a stop."]

* * * * *

THE FRONTIER BOYS

By CAPT. WYN ROOSEVELT

This series tells the adventures of Jim, Joe, and Tom Darlington, first
in their camp wagon as they follow the trail to the great West in the
early days. They are real American boys, resourceful, humorous, and--but
you must meet them. You will find them interesting company. They meet
with thrilling adventures and encounters, and stirring incidents are the
rule, not exception.

Historically, these books present a true picture of a period in our
history as important as it was picturesque, when the nation set its face
toward this vast unknown West, and conquered it.

1. Frontier Boys on Overland Trail
2. Frontier Boys in Colorado
3. Frontier Boys in the Rockies
4. Frontier Boys in the Grand Canyon
5. Frontier Boys in Mexico
6. Frontier Boys on the Coast
7. Frontier Boys in Hawaii
8. Frontier Boys in the Sierras
9. Frontier Boys in the Saddle
10. Frontier Boys in Frisco
11. Frontier Boys in the South Seas

Illustrated, 12mo, Cloth Price per Volume, 50 Cents

* * * * *

Copyright, 1911, by The Platt & Peck Co.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. On the Engine 9
II. A Hold Up 17
III. Jim Takes a Chance 24
IV. The Girl and the Engineer 32
V. The Menu 40
VI. An Old Acquaintance 48
VII. Where was He? 56
VIII. In Frisco 64
IX. The Watcher 71
X. The Chase Begins 79
XI. The Chase Continued 87
XII. The Castle 95
XIII. The Man in the Gully 103
XIV. The Visitor 111
XV. The Lawyer and the Pirate 119
XVI. An Odd Restaurant 127
XVII. The Good Frau 135
XVIII. The Reconnoitre 143
XIX. The Castle 151
XX. The Banquet Hall 159
XXI. The Apparition 167
XXII. Brian De Bois Guilbert 175
XXIII. The Crisis 183
XXIV. A Reincarnation 191
XXV. In the Cell 199
XXVI. In the Mow 206
XXVII. Look Down and Not Up 214
XXVIII. A Square Meal 223
XXIX. A Reminiscence 231
XXX. Jim Boards the Pirate 243
XXXI. The End, a New Start 252

FRONTIER BOYS IN FRISCO

CHAPTER I

ON THE ENGINE

"Would you like to ride on the engine, Jim?" asked the engineer of the
south bound train.

"Nothing would suit me better, Bob," replied Jim Darlington. "I guess
you can drive this black horse," nodding towards the locomotive, "as
well as you did the 'four' that you drove back in Kansas across the
plains, when we were boys," and Jim grinned. "Nothing like the real
horse," replied Bob Ketchel, "but I can manage this fire eater all
right, too."

"Trust you for that," agreed Jim heartily.

"We will be pulling out in about five minutes," remarked Ketchel; "the
tourists in the eating house are just swallowing their pie now with an
anxious eye on the conductor. Hope they don't choke."

"I'm already, Bob," said Jim.

"No, you're not," replied Ketchel; "go back to your luxurious caboose
and get your heaviest coat and your trusty revolver; we might see some
game going through the Pass," and Bob winked wisely at his "boyhood"
friend.

"Don't pull out until I get back," warned Jim, as he started on a trot
toward one of the rear Pullmans, called a "caboose" by the flippant Bob.

"'The General Denver' leaves in three minutes," called Ketchel after the
retreating Jim; "wouldn't wait a second for nobody." From the fact that
the locomotive was given the dignity of a real name indicates that the
time of our narrative belongs to an earlier and more ornate day than
this when even the biggest engine gets nothing more than a number.

At Ketchel's warning, Jim quickened his pace to a run, for he would not
have missed that ride on the "General Denver" for all the buried wealth
he and his brothers had once found on a treasure hunt in Old Mexico. I
wonder if an introduction to our old friend, Jim Darlington, is really
necessary. At least I am going through the formality. Jim, the leader of
"The Frontier Boys," whose adventures began on "The Overland Trail," and
were last spoken of in the narrative, "In The Saddle," is now on his way
to San Francisco in response to a message sent to him by the engineer of
his captured yacht, _The Sea Eagle_. He had been spending the Christmas
time at his home in Maysville, New York, where his brothers, Tom and Jo,
remained for the winter, much to their mother's joy, but to their own
deep regret, when they saw Jim starting out on a journey whose
adventures they could not share.

So much for the introduction, now to the narrative. Jim had no time to
spare and he could be very prompt when he had to, as all his old friends
can well remember. He swung into the black Pullman near the rear of the
long train, glided through the narrow alley way between the smoking-room
and the side of the car, just missing a head on collision with a stout
party coming out of the sleeper. The latter was about to express a
haughty indignation at Jim's abrupt approach, but that worthy gave him
no chance, as he dashed for section No. 9 at the end of the car. Here he
snatched from his valise his belt and revolver and fastened them with
rapid precision around his waist, and then with a heavy sweater in his
hand, he made a rapid exit from the car.

Already his three minutes were nearly up, and he had an exasperating
delay in the narrow passageway where a file of well-fed diners were
coming through. As Jim leaped from the platform the engine gave a
short, sharp whistle and the wheels began to revolve. Jim's vacation had
not made him fat nor short winded and he sped after the engine, with the
swiftness of an Indian on the trail of an enemy. Perhaps Bob Ketchel let
his engine take it rather slowly. However that may be, Jim in a few
seconds was alongside of "The General Denver" and then his foot was on
the ugly saddle stirrup of iron and he was aboard the engine in a jiffy.

"Pretty good for a tenderfoot," grinned Bob. "No wonder the Injuns
couldn't catch you."

"It's because my feet are so tender that I take them off the ground so
fast," explained Jim.

The fireman laughed at this and his white teeth shone like a darky's
from the sooty grime of his face.

"You can have my side of the cab," he said. "It's going to keep me busy
firing on the upgrade."

Jim took his place with a pleasurable feeling of excitement and
interest. It was a new experience for him and one he was bound to
remember. Already the locomotive was gathering momentum. The little town
was left behind in the gathering dusk and soon they were threading their
narrow iron way through the solitude of the great mountains. Looking
back on a sharp curve, and there were many of them on this mountain
grade, Jim could see the crescent form of the coaches all alight, where
the passengers were seated at their ease.

Then he looked at the intent, grim-faced, young engineer who never took
his eyes from the track ahead, keen and quick to act on the first sign
of emergency. "They certainly are safe with Bob to pilot 'em, lazy
beggars," said Jim to himself, divided between admiration for his friend
and contempt for the ease loving passengers in the sleepers, who would
soon turn into their berths in comfort and security, while the engineer
would guide his roaring, flaming steed through deep gorges, over dizzy
bridges, and down the winding grades from some high divide.

Already the night had fallen and all was darkness except where the light
from the locomotive sent its fierce thrust of illumination into the
night, straight along the steel rails with sudden, quick thrusts as the
"General Denver" rounded a curve. "My but it is great!" cried Jim with
enthusiasm, as on the engine roared into the depths of the mountains. In
a short time the moon rose over the crest of the range, shining with a
pure brilliance that the work-a-day sun can only dream of.

After several hours of uneventful progress the train ran into a long
siding and came to a gentle stop. It was in the center of a wide
mountain valley with nothing to indicate human life except a solitary
section house, painted a dull red, and, beyond it a short distance, a
water tank of the same color.

"I guess that didn't jar any of those sleeping beauties back there, when
I stopped her," said Bob quietly, as he stepped down from the cab.

"Couldn't have done better myself," replied Jim whimsically, "but I
would have been tempted to give them a jolt just to make them sit up for
a minute."

"Some of the boys do shake 'em up when they feel sort of cranky,"
admitted Ketchel.

"That's the kind I have always traveled with," remarked Jim, "but what
are we waiting here for?"

"No. 10 is due in a few minutes. Here's where we oil up." Jim watched
the operation with interest while the engineer and his fireman went
methodically from part to part of the engine with their long billed oil
cans.

"She must be late," said Ketchel, looking keenly up the track and then
at his heavy, open-faced watch. "What do you suppose is the matter with
her? No need of losing time on a night like this," he continued.

"Maybe she has been held up," said the fireman.

"That's more likely to happen to us," replied the engineer shortly. "No.
10 doesn't carry anything but the money the newsboy gets out of the
passengers for peanuts and bum dime novels but we have something in that
express car that's going to California and it's valuable."

"I'm going to California," put in Jim mildly.

"But you ain't valuable," replied the engineer with a grin.

"Except with this," said Jim, putting his hand on his revolver, with a
touch of seeming bravado.

"That's where you come in," said the engineer.

"I thought you weren't giving me a ride just for the fresh air, and to
get a view of the 'mountings' by moonlight. But where do you expect
these villains to jump you?" inquired Jim.

"Well, there are numerous, romantic, little spots along the trail ahead
where they might stop us for an interview," said Ketchel.

"I'm thinking they will be a lurking in 'Boxwood Canyon,'" said Bill
Sheehan, the fireman. "It's the likes of a dirty black gang that will do
the deed, the same that shot poor Jimmie McGuire last month because he
wouldn't give up his train to 'em, and him with three childer at home."

"There comes 'No. 10.'" cried Jim, "and it will be all aboard for
Boxwood Canyon."

"Aye, but you have sharp ears, I don't hear anything of her as yet,"
remarked Bill.

"Him has sharp ears and eyes, Bill!" exclaimed the engineer. "That boy
there can take the trail with any red Indian and that's the truth."

CHAPTER II

A HOLD UP

At that moment there came a glare of light sweeping down the track from
the headlight of "No. 10." With a roar and swaying of the big engine,
the train rushed down upon them and swept past with its hind heels or
wheels kicking up the dust. Then its tail lights of cherry red grew dim
way down the valley.

"All aboard, boys," cried Ketchel as No. 10 passed; "we've got some time
to make up."

"He'll stop just short of murder to the train," declared the fireman who
knew his engineer when it came to a question of picking up a few minutes
of time.

"He will swing her like he used to drive the old stagecoach on the down
grade," remarked Jim, "and that will be going some."

Already they were gathering speed, as he sent "The General Denver" along
the level of the valley. In a short time the train came to a steep
descent through a narrow canyon, and Jim was in for a new experience.
Enured though he was to all kinds of dangers it made him catch his
breath when the engine went straight for a wall of solid rock and then
turned as though to dash straight from the track, into the brawling
stream below.

It righted itself with an effort and leaped down the shining trail
rocking from side to side and trembling with the vibrations of its
fierce power, dashing straight for the depths of the shadows between the
towering cliffs. Little did the sleeping passengers realize the dangers
through which they were passing every minute.

"Gee!" exclaimed Jim, "suppose a bowlder has rolled onto the track just
ahead. It might happen easy enough too."

Just then, Bill Sheehan, the fireman, touched Jim with the end of his
shovel to call his attention to something they were coming to ahead. Jim
saw a jumbled heap of freight cars half in the stream and half out, and
a little ways further on was the rusty ruin of a once powerful
locomotive. Jim nodded to the fireman.

"Something has been doing there," he yelled, but the words were blown
from his lips and lost in the roar as steam disappears in the air. Jim
took a look at his friend, the engineer. He was alert and intent, ready
for any emergency, and Jim felt a sense of absolute confidence in his
friend's skill. After a ten mile run, the canyon began to broaden out
and there were other trees besides the solemn pines. A sense of
impending danger came over Jim. He had experienced it many times before
and whether it was an ambush of Indians, or the plans of some band of
outlaws it had rarely betrayed him. It was something in the air; a
vibration that the human nerves are as conscious of as a dog's nose is
cognizant of the scent of some wild animal. Jim turned and looked at the
engineer, who nodded back at him for a second, with a look that
indicated there was business ahead; then his eyes were fastened on the
track again.

Jim took out his watch and saw that it was a quarter to two. It brought
a quizzical smile to his face. Time and again he had noted the fact that
it was just about this time that an attack was sure to come. It sent a
thrill through his nerves for he felt that they were rushing straight to
a crisis. Much depended on the three men in the engine, for there were
many helpless women and children on the train for whose safety they were
responsible. Jim noted that the country through which they were going
was well suited for the purposes of the bandits desiring to hold up the
train.

On either side the walls of the mountains rose at the distance of only a
few hundred yards, covered with dark pines and huge rocks showing here
and there on the bare fall of some precipice. Between the foot of the
mountains and the track was rugged ground, with large bowlders scattered
here and there. Clumps of trees and bushes and numerous gullies could be
discerned.

It was just the country for a surprise of this kind. Jim stepped down
from his narrow seat and got his hands thoroughly warm and pliable, took
off his coat and folded it neatly on the seat and stood with his
revolver in hand, seeing whether its action was all right. He was a
stalwart figure indeed, dressed in his characteristic regimentals, with
a thick, tight fitting sweater of blue, pants of the same color, and a
new sombrero of a dark hue, for the old one had been battered and worn
out of all semblance to a hat, and he was obliged to give it up, though
it was like parting with an old friend.

Jim as you remember, perhaps, was a trifle over six feet in height and
during his short stay at home he had gained in flesh, so that he weighed
one hundred and eighty-five pounds. His hair was brown and straight and
his eyes gray. He was doubtless fit for this battle or any that should
come his way.

Just at that moment, Bob Ketchel saw an obstruction on the track, about
two hundred yards distant, and applied the air brakes instantly. He had
been on the watch for just this thing, and noted that there was plenty
of cover where the express was halted wherein the desperadoes could
hide.

Slowly the panting engine came to a stop with its nose almost against
the stone obstruction and there were flashes from a half dozen rifles on
either side of "The General Denver." A simultaneous attack was made at
the rear of the train.

It was hardly a fair duel but Jim and Bob Ketchel were competent hands
at this game and keeping under cover they managed to get in some telling
shots. A near bullet sent a splinter from the cab into Jim's cheek, but
he paid no attention to it at the time. When he caught a sudden glimpse
of two men skulking behind a clump of bushes trying to get a bead on
him, he sent two shots straight at them and then ducked into the cab in
time to escape a side shot from behind a rock.

He could hear Bob's fusillade from the other side of the cab and the
return volleys from the enemy, but he did not worry about his friend,
the engineer, for he knew full well that he could take care of himself.
It was the other fellows who would have to look out. But Jim saw a
figure leap in behind a rock, near the side of the express car, where he
would have the drop on Bob.

There was but one thing to do and James did it. He leaped into the
tender which made an excellent fort, and there for a few minutes he kept
the bandits at bay. He would have laughed heartily at the fireman, Bill
Sheehan, if he could have spared the time, for that worthy had taken up
the battle in his own way. Having quickly discarded his revolver with
which he was not an expert, he began hurling chunks of coal, wherever he
saw the flash of the enemy's fire, and filled with fighting fury he
exposed himself most recklessly, but with no apparent harm. Whether
Bill's novel form of attack made the attacking party helpless with
laughter or because he was in such constant motion that it was hard to
get a bead on him, be the reason what it may, at least Sheehan came
through unscathed.

For a brief time, the battle was even, in fact the engineer and Jim
probably had the best of it, and then there came a change in the
situation. The party in the rear, saw that their brethren were meeting
with a sharp resistance from the engine, so two of them swiftly and
stealthily ran along by the side of the train until they came to the
baggage car next to the engine.

Slipping in between the two cars they quickly got on top of the baggage.
Any noise they might have made being deadened by the firing going on
just below. The desperadoes redoubled their attack when they saw two of
their number about to turn the fight in their favor, for it was
perfectly clear what an advantage their position on the roof of the car
would give them.

They could not be hit themselves even if discovered, and it was certain
death for Jim and the engineer for they would not be more than thirty
feet from the two desperadoes. Even a tenderfoot would not miss at that
distance and these men were not in that class. Neither Jim nor Bob
Ketchel were standing so that they could catch a glimpse of the two men
who were crawling along the top of the blind baggage. At that instant,
Bill Sheehan made a rush for the top of the coal pile to get a chunk of
ammunition of sufficient size and weight.

CHAPTER III

JIM TAKES A CHANCE

As Sheehan mounted the coal, he caught a glimpse of one of the
desperadoes on top of the car and yelled to Ketchel and Jim who jumped
just in the nick of time, and by sheer luck not uncommon in battles,
escaped unhurt. As for the fireman he took a novel way of making his
escape, by diving into the shelving bank of coal and letting it slide
over him. In the excitement of the flurry of firing he was able to do
this.

Jim and Ketchel both leaped from the same side of the engine and were
protected by a slight cut alongside of the track. Bullets whirred and
cut into the dirt around them. As they ran both of them sent a shot at
the man on the near side of the blind baggage, with such good effect
that he pitched to the ground with an injured leg.

"Duck low, Jim," yelled the engineer; "we will beat them yet. I've got a
scheme."

"I'm with you," replied Jim.

This was literally true, for he was right at the heels of the scurrying
Bob. As they passed the barricade of stones, Ketchel gave it a quick,
searching look, then in a few strides they got to cover in a culvert a
number of yards in front of the pile of stone. By the help of a few ties
they made a respectable fort.

"So far, so well," said Ketchel, "but it won't do to stay here very
long, for they will loot the train."

"Nearly the whole gang is down there," cried Jim, "I can tell by the
firing."

"We've got to clear that barricade off the track and quick, too,"
declared the engineer. "It's our only hope."

"Those stones are pretty heavy to lift off under fire," said Jim
composedly, "but I guess we can make a go of it."

"I like your nerve," said Ketchel, a gleam of admiration showing for an
instant in his usually noncommittal face, "but I've got something here,
that will help us in this hoisting business," and he thrust his hand
into one of the pockets of his overalls.

"What is it?" queried Jim.

"Dynamite," replied the engineer, producing a small chunk of the same to
view.

"Won't it blow up the engine, too?" asked Jim.

"Not likely with this amount," said Ketchel. "We will have to chance it
anyhow."

"Ain't you afraid that you might take a chaw on it, by mistake for your
tobacco?" queried Jim in a matter-of-fact voice. Bob Ketchel only
grinned by way of reply.

"Now is our chance," whispered the engineer; "keep the beggars lying low
while I start the fireworks."

"I'll attend to that," replied Jim briefly and with emphasis.

Then two crouching figures slipped out from the culvert, and Jim kept on
the move with the quick dodging motions of a boxer so that the enemy in
ambush could not get a bead on him. Flashing the fire of his revolver
this side and that at a cluster of rock, or a clump of bushes he dodged
on, and such was his accuracy that not a man in the attacking party
dared show himself in the open.

Jim was able to keep down their fire, as his ally rushed to the
barricade; then Ketchel stooped down and thrust the dynamite into an
opening between the rocks and drawing off quickly threw himself flat
down by the track. Then there came an upheaval that shook things. A
geyser of rocks shot into the air, and in a jiffy Jim and the engineer
had cleared off what remained on the track in the shape of debris. The
engine itself had most of the cowcatcher torn off and the headlight
smashed.

"Spoiled her beauty for you," said Jim. "But we will spoil their game I
guess, and I don't think the railroad company will complain at the loss
of a cowcatcher." Meantime both had raced back to the engine.

Before the gang had time to fully realize what had happened, Ketchel had
regained his place in the cab and had turned the engine loose on the
sanded rails. Within a remarkably short distance he had her full speed
ahead, with a parting salute of shots from the enraged and baffled "hold
ups."

"There goes three of 'em," cried Jim, who had swung aboard. "My what a
jump."

They shot from the rear of the train like projectiles from a catapult,
rolling over and over down a steep embankment. Two got up very slowly
but the third lay as if dead.

"Where's Sheehan?" cried the engineer; "we haven't lost him I hope."

"Gosh! he's in the coal!" exclaimed Jim.

He leaped into the tender and saw a movement under the coal. Working
frantically, Jim was able to drag their submerged ally from the retreat
that had almost buried him. The cold air brought him to, and he rose
staggeringly to his feet.

"Yer started your thrain too suddint, Mr. Ketchel, and pulled two ton of
coal over my poor head," cried the fireman in half humorous indignation.
"Why didn't you whistle and give me fair warning as to your intentions.
And how did you lads escape without bullets in your hides. Yer must have
charmed lives the both of you."

"How many of 'em did you get, Bill," yelled back the engineer from his
cab.

"Aye, there is many of them that will carry black marks the rest of
their lives, where I handed them some chunks of coal."

"The company will take it out of your salary for wasting their coal,"
remarked Ketchel.

"And shure and they ain't none too good to do it," remarked Bill Sheehan
with conviction.

"Get in, Bill, and throw what coal you have got left into that boiler;
we have got to make the siding this side of the Divide to get out of the
way of 'The Eastern Express.' That little fracas back there cost us
fifteen minutes."

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