Frontier Boys in Frisco

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The woman crouched in front of one of the doors, with a wicket in it,
whence Jim heard a low voice repeating something over and over, and the
sound of it thrilled him for he recognized it as the voice of the
Senorita Cordova, praying softly for deliverance. It pierced through
Jim's heart, the pity and the pathos of it, and for a moment his eyes
were blinded with tears. The next moment he was himself again, as he
well needs be. He pushed gently aside the grating covering the aperture
in the door itself, so that he was able to see in. It did not require
much of a slit for that purpose, and he was able to get a good look at
the interior, which was like a cell, with low arched, white-washed
ceiling.

It was not a forbidding room either, for at one end was a latticed
window with diamond panes, and in the ivy that grew outside it you might
imagine the little birds twittering in the summer time. The floor was
covered with a heavy rug and a candelabra of a dozen candles gave a
pleasant light. The room or cell was heated by coals glowing in an
old-fashioned brazier.

Although there were two persons visible, what fastened Jim's eyes was
the figure of the Senorita da Cordova. She was kneeling before a _prie
dieu_ near the casemented window, in evening dress such as she wore when
she got into the carriage. She had supposed that she was going to be
taken to her father, and instead had been brought to this desperate
castle. Her dress of white was ornamented with lace, and there was a
bracelet of odd antique design on her rounded arm that made Jim gasp.

He knew where she had got that. It was his present to her, one of the
many treasures that he and the other Frontier Boys had found in that
mysterious mountain in the interior of Mexico. Why did she wear it? But
in regard to that interesting question he had no time to think at this
juncture. She looked pale as she knelt there, but hers was a natural
pallor and did not mean fear. The graceful figure with a rope of pearls
twined in the dark hair was to remain in James Darlington's memory for
many a year.

The other figure was that of a tall, gaunt woman, hard featured with
reddish brown hair. Jim noted the powerful looking hands and arms and
felt sure that she was not an antagonist to be regarded lightly. At that
moment the woman rose suddenly from the chair in which she had been
seated and Jim saw that she was nearly his equal in height.

"Is that you, you crazy fool?" she questioned in a harsh voice, coming
to the wicket and shoving it back. Jim dodged down, hoping that she
would unbolt the door but she did nothing of the kind.

"Oh, ho! you're here are you, walked into the cap'en's trap have you,
young fellar? I'll tell you one thing, you'll never get out of this
house, because nobody wants you enough to pay a ransom. Got that
straight, Bub."

Jim had had all kinds of experiences, but this was the first time that a
woman's tongue had begun to be sharpened on him and he did not relish it
in the least. He felt small and insulted, so mad that he began to see
things zig-zag way and was tempted to do something rash, and in fact he
did call out.

"Never fear, Senorita, I will get you out of this place."

He saw her clasp her hands and turn towards the door when the sight of
her was eclipsed by the bulk of her jailer.

"So it is you, Senor Jim, with the light head."

"It isn't red anyhow," he replied with humorous indignation.

"Ha, ha," she laughed, "you scored that time anyhow."

Jim took this opportunity to throw his weight against the door with all
his strength; it sagged, but the bar held.

The woman was furious as she glared out at Jim.

"I could throttle you, you sassy, long legged cub," she yelled, "only I
got orders from the cap'n to stay in this here room, and I obeys him."

She made a quick motion with her hand to a place near the jamb of the
door.

"Run, Senor, for your life," cried the poor demented woman; "the Devil
and his dogs are coming."

Jim saw that he must make his escape instantly or be caught helpless
like a rat in a trap to be done to death. He fled with all his speed,
and Jim was no slouch of a runner. Down the narrow stairway he sped, and
along the hall to the second floor. The question was, could he reach the
library where he had climbed in, before the gang in the banquet hall
came rushing up the main staircase.

The chances were against his doing this for the pursuers had only half
the distance to go and they would be certain to respond to the alarm
with much promptness. The Mexican dwarf was notorious for the swiftness
of his attack, so that it looked bad for our friend Jim. He must reach
that room or what would happen?

CHAPTER XXII

BRIAN DE BOIS GUILBERT

There was just one thing that saved Jim at this juncture. It was an
incident which he did not guess at the time and I am not sure that he
became aware of it in later life, and yet there are reasons to surmise
that he may have heard of it.

As has not been related, the big guardian of the senorita in the cell
high up in the tower, had started to give the alarm to the gang in the
banquet hall by pressing a button near the door. James Darlington had
seen her make the move to ring, and his alarm had been added to by the
cry of warning from the crazy woman. He had to run for his life as the
reader well knows.

So much Jim was aware of but he did not see what had happened when the
red headed woman started to give the alarm. The Senorita da Cordova was
not a cowed and spiritless girl and in spite of the terror of her
situation, when she saw the intention of her jailer she glided the
length of the cell with remarkable swiftness and caught the arm of the
woman. The senorita was not a delicate creature either, and in spite of
her apparent pallor, she showed a lithe agility in struggling with this
giant of a woman, who had the strength of two ordinary men and was
probably nearly the equal of the redoubtable Jim himself.

After a struggle lasting some minutes, the girl was thrown with severe
violence against the wall of the cell and lay there stunned and bleeding
from a cut on the forehead, but her efforts had given Jim time to reach
the library which he had to pass and bolt and lock the door to it,
before ever the chase began. Meanwhile the unfortunate woman who had
been of so much help to Jim had time to flee to a remote corner of the
house, where she would be free from pursuit.

James had determined to make his escape the same way he had gotten in,
join his comrade, the engineer, who was outside and together plan a new
attack. Perhaps they could get the aid of the Federal authorities.

At that moment Jim's eye fell on the hollow figure in armor which he had
dubbed Brian de Bois Guilbert, and he determined instantly to carry out
the plan that had first occurred to him, which from its very wildness
might spell success. At least try it he would; anything was better than
leaving the young Spanish girl in the hands of this evil crew,
especially as the Mexican dwarf had openly declared his intention of
making love to her.

Hastily Jim lit the wax candles on the mantel, that sent their soft
gleam through the long, beautiful room, and gave him sufficient light to
work by. Now Jim was not only deft, but desperate. How he got into that
suit of medieval armor, he could not tell. It would be doubtful if he
could have done so in cold blood, but he was spurred on by the terror of
the situation. It was just like a man pursued and in danger of immediate
capture by his enemies, who comes to a chasm that in ordinary moments he
would not think of attempting to cross, but he leaps it because he has
to, or fall into the hands of those who pursue him.

As the renegades rushed through the wide hall, with roar of harsh
voices, the big hound in the lead, Jim was nearly all saddled and
bridled and ready for the fray. It was with a strange feeling of
exultation and also of safety that James Darlington found himself thus
accoutered and discovered that he could move with comparative ease in
the glittering armor on which shone the lights of the candles from above
the fireplace.

It was easy to imagine Jim, who was large enough in his own proper
person, and now a figure of gigantic size, to be a hero of old Romance;
who with three plumed helmets, unheralded and unknown enters the lists
to rescue the oppressed and beautiful heroine from the hands of the
ruthless destroyer.

Perhaps Jim was a hero, but I will give a considerable sum to the boy or
girl who first finds in the many thrilling narratives of "The Frontier
Boys," our friend James spoken of or referred to as "our hero." But to
leave this realm of fancy and to come back to the practical world of our
narrative.

Jim knew that the time allowed him was apt to be very short before he
would be compelled to make his debut in his new character, as the man
with the iron jaw, mailed fist and steel legs, so he gripped his heavy
sword, which none but he could wield (see Walter Scott, who preceded the
present writer by some years). I hope you will forgive this jesting, but
Jim was a great hand to make fun in the very presence of danger, a trait
peculiar to the American character, and so I may be pardoned for
following in his footsteps, for I, too, am an American.

Jim advanced toward the door, and he was thoroughly pleased and
encouraged to discover that he could move with comparative ease though
not noiselessly of course. But what did a little noise inside the room
amount to, when there came the roar of the pursuers outside, for they
had returned upon Jim's trail, guided by the hound.

The crisis had now come. The huge beast knew that his prey was inside,
and he rushed against the door with all of his maddened bulk, and his
great bark boomed through the castle, and filled with fury the Mexican
bandits who raged on the outside; then came the voice of their leader.

"Back, you fools," he cried; "away from that door."

They were quick to obey, and at that instant there came the sharp report
of a pistol; the bullet splintered through the thick casement but it
glanced from Jim's steel breastplate, but this attack aroused him to
action. With a thrill and tremor of the nerves which he could not
repress, he drew back the bolts and with a cry, the impulse of his
humorous excitement, "Desdichado to the Rescue!" he flung the door wide
open, and stepped with clanging stride through the smoke into the dimly
lit hall.

To have seen that great steel-clad figure moving with sudden life would
have struck terror to even the stoutest hearts, and shaken the steadiest
nerves. But these superstitious Mexicans were driven almost out of their
excitable minds by the sudden horror of this seeming apparition. Of one
accord they fled, gibbering, towards the stairs, one falling in a faint
from fright before he reached them. Even the dwarf who was not afraid of
the Powers of Darkness themselves, retreated slowly, sullenly and
suspiciously down the hall.

But there was one of all that gang who did not flee, and that was the
valiant hound. He sprang full for Jim as the latter stepped from the
room into the hall. Jim was not altogether unprepared for this, for he
had reckoned that the hound would be the one to make him trouble. If it
had not been for the protection of the armor which he wore it would have
gone hard with the youth.

But his own strength with the added weight of his suit of mail enabled
him to meet the fierce rush of the beast without losing his footing. It
also saved his arm and shoulder from being torn by the grip of the
animal's jaws. It only dented him as the expression goes. Then with a
short arm thrust of his sword he put the hound out of business.
Determined to follow up his advantage and make the rout thorough, he
advanced to the head of the staircase.

The dwarf had just reached the foot of the stairs, and looking up he saw
the giant figure in armor and with a snarl he took quick aim and fired,
the bullet glancing from the helm of Jim's armor and making a long
furrow in the plaster of the ceiling.

Jim had no idea of quietly standing there as a tin target for his enemy
to fire at. There was, he noted, a small marble bust on a pedestal near
the top of the staircase. This he seized in his iron grasp and hurled it
at the elfish figure in the hall below. Now James was "quite some"
thrower as they say in the state of Jersey. The dwarf was marvelously
quick, too, but the white flash of stone came near getting him and as he
dodged he slipped and fell and the bust busted in all directions, one
fragment cutting his cheek, with its sharp impact.

"Look out, Jim! Look out quick!" so a friend would have cried but it was
too late.

While the men had all fled in utter fear, a woman was coming quickly to
retrieve their reverse. "Red Annie," as she was known, strong, strident
and feared by everyone within the castle, was on the trail. She was not
to be fooled for an instant by this figure in armor. Noiseless as a
lioness she crept up behind Jim and as he half turned to find another
weapon to his hand he saw her, but not soon enough. With a mighty shove
she sent him toppling down the stairs. However, Jim was able to
partially save himself by gripping at the balustrade.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE CRISIS

There was but one way of escape now and that was by the front entrance.
Jim regained his feet but by the time he reached the lower hall, the
woman had rallied the brown and white renegades with taunts and fierce
ridicule, and they came again into the attack.

"Take him alive," cried the dwarf; "we will have some sport with him
before he dies."

"I won't die till my time comes," mumbled Jim; "as for the sport, I'll
have that myself."

There were at least twelve of the cutthroats who swarmed into the hall,
some of them reenforcements, men who had been sleeping in other parts of
the castle, and who had been aroused by the racket. Among them was a
huge fellow with a bristling red mustache, close cropped black hair, and
sinister dark eyes, all surface and no depth.

"Jack, darlint," cried the woman, "hit that jinted piece of hardware a
blow with a shillayleh, and show these Manuels and proud Castilians that
it's a holler sham."

"I'll do it for the honor of the ould sod, Annie, me gurl," he cried to
his wife, for such she was.

Jim was pretty thoroughly aroused by these taunts, and he did not wait
for the onslaught of the gallant son of Hibernia, but plowed his way
through the snarling Mexicans, who would have pulled him down, and with
a quickness that took the big Irishman by surprise, smote him with a
heavy swing upon the side of his fortunately thick head; that is,
fortunate for him, and down he went full length, crushing two small,
protesting "Manuels" in his fall. He was the victim of the iron hand,
minus the velvet glove.

But now a trick was brought into play which Jim himself had used once or
twice in the course of his adventurous career. While he was busily
engaged with the matter in hand, he suddenly found his arms pinioned by
a rawhide lasso, cast by the expert hand of Master Dwarf. In a minute he
was utterly helpless, unable to move arms or legs, and then how the
Mexicans came into the attack!

With Southern fury they struck at the iron Jim with feet and fist, and
then they wrung their injured hands and nursed their bruised toes, until
Jim could not help laughing, in spite of the seriousness of the
situation; but he did not laugh long.

The ordeal began quickly for him, and he realized that there was no
escape for him from the hands of his ruthless and revengeful enemies. It
was impossible for John Berwick to help him; indeed, the engineer would
be fortunate to escape himself. Besides him, there was absolutely no one
within several thousand miles who could bring him help.

If only Jo and Tom and Juarez were near, the old frontier combination,
he would not despair of being rescued; but Jim repressed quickly any
thought of his brothers and friend, for the recollection would be sure
to weaken him, and he needed all his fortitude at this point, when cruel
Death and he stood face to face once more, and seemingly for the last
time.

It was a dramatic scene, as well as one of terror, in the splendid
banquet hall, where Jim awaited execution. The blaze was leaping upward
in the great fireplace, and the ruddy spread of light showed the tall
figure of James Darlington, bound hand and foot, with his back to the
northern end of the banquet room. The armor had been torn off from him
with bruising force. The side of his face was torn and bleeding, the
work of Red Annie's husband when his opponent was helpless.

Jim had steeled himself for what must come, and he had to admit that he
would just as soon be back in Colorado in the hands of the Indians as in
the power of the present gang. At least as far as the dwarf was
concerned, there was more of personal hatred than in the case of the red
men. And where natural cruelty is urged on by a desire for revenge, then
look out.

"We will try this game first," cried the dwarf, "and see how brave this
white-headed gringo is."

The others laughed and made wagers on their skill, all except the
Irishman, who glowered at the Mexicans and then at Jim. It was not a
pastime he was expert in. The hunchback took a step forward with his
dagger poised over his shoulder, and holding it by its sharp tip. Then
it flashed red straight for Jim's eye, apparently, but it would have
missed his head by a hair's breadth if he had stayed quiet.

But he was free to move his head and instinctively he dodged; this
roused the Mexican to perfect fury, and he grabbed a poniard from the
man next to him, and aimed for the body. There was murder in his every
move, there was no mistaking that. It looked as if Jim's time had
certainly come.

But what of John Berwick, the former chief engineer of the _Sea Eagle_?
Why did he not make some effort to aid his friend, and superior
officer, Captain Jim? Let us go back a ways, and we will find an answer
to this query. As you remember, when Jim started to find his way into
the castle, he left Berwick in a clump of bushes not far from the house.

In one way he was alone, and in another he was not, for there was the
body of the unfortunate secret service man, who had lost his life in the
gulch below, not far from the beach. But most people would have chosen
to be alone rather than in such company.

The engineer watched Jim as he climbed up to the broad window and
disappeared with a wave of his hand. For a time he listened, on edge for
some outbreak, and expecting every minute to see Jim take a flying leap
from some window, accompanied by a salute of fireworks and pistol
flashes. Once or twice he was positive that he heard a cry or a sound of
a struggle in the great silent house, but nothing came of it.

It was cold standing there, motionless. He did not want to attract
possible attention by moving about, and a thought came to him upon which
he acted. His silent companion had no use for apparel. He secured the
heavy gray coat and put it on over his own. His hat he had lost, and
substituted that of the officer.

An hour or more went by. He found himself growing very sleepy, and no
wonder, if we recall what a strenuous twelve hours he had just gone
through. Nor did he have the stimulus of interest that Jim had to keep
him keyed up. He fought against this sense of overpowering drowsiness,
that was like a heavy adversary that was slowly pressing him into
unconsciousness.

It had him by the wrists tiring him, weighing on the pit of his stomach,
numbing the back of his brain, making his limbs as heavy as ponderous
lead. It seemed to the wearied engineer that there was nothing in this
world to be desired but a good sound sleep; he fought against it
desperately, but after a long struggle he suddenly succumbed; his head
dropped, and he lay prone in the grass, apparently as lifeless, as the
unfortunate a few feet distant.

When he awoke it was with utter bewilderment. Where was he, with grass
and trees and shrubs all about him? That certainly was a pistol shot
which had aroused him. Then he came to his senses, sprang quickly to his
feet, and pushed his way through the copse until he got a clear view of
the castle. There he saw faint gleams of light through the broad
windows of the room, which Jim had entered.

In a moment he had heard enough to convince him that there was serious
business going on in the castle, and that "the captain," as he sometimes
called Jim, was in certain danger. Now, John Berwick did not have the
natural headlong courage of Jim, but he was a man of great coolness and
nerve, when the occasion demanded it. He resisted the impulse to rush
boldly into the house, for he saw that it would be foolhardy, as he was
unarmed, and it would only be making a bad matter worse.

He stood with his head slightly bent, gently whistling to himself; his
hands in his pockets, as if nothing of importance was going on in the
gloomy, looming castle a few feet away, but John Berwick was thinking,
and his thinking, it chanced, was apt to be to some purpose. Then a
curious smile came over his face, that was not exactly pleasant, and
with fair reason.

The engineer had come to a decision, and hit upon a plan. He and the
dead man were about of the same build, practically of the same height,
and superficially they had a similarity of appearance, and he was
dressed in his coat and hat. The latter he grasped firmly and pulled
well down over his face. The coat and hat were the only conspicuous
things about him.

Just now there was a sudden terrible clangor in the castle.

"Sounds like somebody was discharging the cook," he remarked with
whimsical humor, "and that she was throwing the hardware around."

This tumult, as the reader well knows, was our esteemed friend, James,
falling downstairs in his full suit of armor, which was sufficient to
account for the racket. It did not take Berwick long after that to get
ready, and you would have been certain that it was none other than the
dead detective come to life, as he stooped hurriedly across the lawn. He
did not try any roundabout way of making entrance into the castle, but
ran directly to the massive front doors, hoping to find them unlocked,
but in this he was doomed to disappointment.

CHAPTER XXIV

A REINCARNATION

It was no time to waste any precious moments on ceremony; he must act,
and act immediately. There were on either side of the main door long
panels of glass. John Berwick made use of the stout stick, his only
weapon, which he had picked up from the midst of the copse, and broke
the long panel glass into smithereens.

Under ordinary conditions the noise would have been sufficient to
attract the attention of anyone in the banquet hall, in spite of the
heavy doors and their equally heavy hangings of cloth of purple, but at
this precise moment the parties therein were so intent on the tragedy
that was about to be consummated there, that they would not have been
diverted by even a much louder noise than that caused by the breaking of
that slender panel of glass.

John Berwick was of slight and wiry figure, and was able to shove his
way through, a feat that would have been impossible for Jim, even with
the most determined intentions in the world. Within a half minute
Berwick stood crouching in the hall, and then he crossed the space
swiftly, through the open door, the purple curtains parted, and there
advanced into the center of the banquet hall, the gray-clad figure
seemingly of the dead detective.

The deadly dagger which the Mexican Dwarf poised to transfix his victim
was never flung, but dropped with a metallic clatter from his palsied
hand. Even Jim was dazed for a few seconds by this strange apparition,
and then he could have given a yell of joy and of boundless relief. It
was one of the few dramatic moments of his life, which had been filled
with exciting incidents, which is an entirely different thing from being
dramatic.

The first look at John Berwick, wearing the detective's coat and hat,
the latter pulled well over his face, had appalled and paralyzed the
gang of dastards, who were about to execute cold-blooded murder, and as
he advanced upon them this fear was changed into frenzied panic.
Trampling over one another at once they fled by way of a door at the end
of the room, near where they were gathered. The supposed detective gave
up the pursuit after they were utterly routed, and returned to where Jim
stood bound.

"How did you ever think of it, old chap?" cried Jim, as soon as the rope
that bound him had been cut by his friend.

"It chanced that I was prepared," replied Berwick. "I heard that
horrible clatter in the house, and got in as quickly as I could."

"That clatter was Brian de Bois Guilbert tumbling downstairs," said Jim
gleefully.

"Eh?" questioned Berwick, his eyes opening wide as he gazed at Jim in
the dawning belief that the experience he had gone through had unsettled
his mind.

"Oh, I'm not crazy, Chief," exclaimed Jim. "I'll explain later; now for
getting the senorita out of the hands of these villains."

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