"It's my turn now!"
"And you mean to murder us?" demanded Frank, passionately.
"Not murder," answered the man. "We-uns is goin' ter put two revenues out o' ther way, that's all!"
"It's murder," cried Frank, in a ringing tone. "You know we are not revenue spies! Men, we appeal to you. We can prove that we are what we claim to be—two boys who are tramping through the mountains for pleasure. Will you kill us without giving us a chance to prove our innocence?"
The leader laughed harshly.
"It's ther same ol' whine," he said. "Ther revenues alwus cry baby when they're caught. You-uns can't fool us, an' we ain't got time ter waste with ye. Git reddy, boys!"
About the boys' necks the fatal ropes were quickly adjusted.
"Stop!" Frank commanded. "If you murder us, you will find you have not killed two friendless boys. We have friends—powerful friends—who will follow this matter up—who will investigate it. You will be hunted down and punished for the crime. You will not be allowed to escape!"
Again the leader laughed.
"Pore fool!" he sneered. "Do you-uns think ye're stronger an' more po'erful than ther United States Gover'ment? Huah! Ther United States loses her spies, an' she can't tell who disposed o' 'em. We won't be worried by all yore friends."
He made another movement, and the rope ends were flung over a limb that was strong enough to bear both lads.
Hope was dying within Frank Merriwell's breast. At last he had reached the end of his adventurous life, which had been short and turbulent. He must die here amid these wild mountains, which flung themselves up against the moonlit sky, and the only friend to be with him at the end was the faithful friend who must die at his side.
Frank's blood ran cold and sluggish in his veins. The spring night had seemed warm and sweet, filled with the droning of insects; but now there was a bitter chill in the air, and the white moonlight seemed to take on a crimson tinge, as of blood.
The boy's nature rebelled against the thought of meeting death in such a manner. It was spring-time amid the mountains; with him it was the spring-time of life. He had enjoyed the beautiful world, and felt strong and brave to face anything that might come; but this he had not reckoned on, and it was something to cause the stoutest heart to shake.
Over the eastern mountains, craggy, wild, barren or pine-clad, the gibbous moon swung higher and higher. The heavens were full of stars, and every star seemed to be an eye that was watching to witness the consummation of the tragedy down there in that little valley, through which Lost Creek flowed on to its unknown destination.
How still it was!
The silence was broken by a sound that made every black-hooded man start and listen.
Sweet and mellow and musical, from afar through the peaceful night, came the clear notes of a bugle.
Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-tar! Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-tar!
A fierce exclamation broke from the lips of the leader of the Black Caps, and he grated:
"Muriel, by ther livin' gods! He's comin' hyar! Quick, boys—finish this job, an' git!"
"Stop, Wade Miller!" cried Frank, commandingly. "If that is Muriel, wait for him—let him pronounce our fate. He is the chief of you all, and he shall say if we are revenue spies."
"Bah! You-uns know too much, fer ye've called my name! That settles ye! Ye must hang anyway, now!"
Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-tar!
From much nearer, came the sound of the bugle, awakening hundreds of mellow echoes, which were flung from crag to crag till it seemed that the mountains were alive with buglers.
The clatter of a horse's iron-shod feet could be heard, telling that the rider was coming like the wind down the valley.
"Cut free ther feet o' ther pris'ners!" panted the leader of the Black Caps. "Work quick! Muriel will be here in a few shakes, an' we-uns must be done. All ready thar! Up with 'em!"
The fatal moment had arrived!
CHAPTER XLII.
MURIEL
Ta-ra-tar! Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-tar!
Through the misty moonlight a coal-black horse, bearing a rider who once more awakens the clamoring echoes with his bugle, comes tearing at a mad gallop.
"Up with 'em!" repeats Wade Miller, fiercely, as the black-hooded men seem to hesitate.
The ropes tighten.
"Stop!"
One of the men utters the command, and his companions hesitate.
"Muriel is death on revernues," says the one who had spoken, "an' thar ain't any reason why we-uns shouldn't wait fer him."
"That's so."
More than half the men agree with the one who has interrupted the execution, filling Wade Miller with unutterable rage.
"Fools!" snarled the chief ruffian of the party. "I am leadin' you-uns now, an' ye've gotter do ez I say. I order ye ter string them critters up!"
Nearer and nearer came the clattering hoof-beats.
"Av we can have wan minute more!" breathed Barney Mulloy.
"Half a minute will do," returned Frank.
"We refuse ter obey ye now," boldly spoke the man who had commanded his companions to stop. "Muriel has signaled ter us, an' he means fer us ter wait till he-uns arrives."
"Wait!" howled Miller. "They sha'n't escape!"
He snatched out a revolver, pointed it straight at Frank's breast, and fired!
Just as the desperate ruffian was pulling the trigger, the man nearest him struck up his hand, and the bullet passed through Frank's hat, knocking it to the ground.
Miller was furious as a maniac, but, at this moment, the black horse and the dashing rider burst in upon the scene, plunged straight through the circle, halting at the side of the imperiled lads, the horse being flung upon its haunches.
"Wal, what be you-uns doin'?" demands a clear, ringing voice. "What work is this, that I don't know erbout?"
The men were silent. Wade Miller cowered before the chief of the moonshiners, trying to hide the revolver.
Muriel's eyes, gleaming through the twin holes of the mask he wore, found Miller, and the clear voice cried:
"You-uns has been lettin' this critter lead ye inter somethin'! An' it's fair warnin' I gave him ter keep clear o' meddlin' with my business."
The boys gazed at the moonshiner chief in amazement, for Muriel looked no more than a boy as he sat there on his black horse, and his voice seemed the voice of a boy instead of that of a man. Yet it was plain that he governed these desperate ruffians of the mountains with a hand of iron, and they feared him.
"We-uns war 'bout ter hang two revernues," explained Miller.
Muriel looked at the boys.
"Revernues?" he said, doubtfully. "How long sence ther gover'ment has been sendin' boys hyar ter spy on us?"
"They know what happens ter ther men they send," muttered Miller.
"Wal, 'tain't like they'd be sendin' boys arter men failed."
"That's ther way they hope ter fool us."
"An' how do you know them-uns is revernues?"
"We jest s'picions it."
"An' you-uns war hangin' 'em on s'picion, 'thout lettin' me know?"
"We