Frank nodded.
"That is evident; but we are doing our best, and so we can do no better."
Frank was somewhat disheartened, but he did not wish Barney to know it, and so he pretended to be cheerful.
Darkness settled over the canyon, and the light of a tiny fire shone on the faces of the young adventurers.
Frank seemed to be dreaming, for, with a far-away stare, he was gazing straight into the flames, apparently quite unaware of his surroundings.
In the flaring fire he saw strange pictures of events in his own career—a career such as had never before fallen to the lot of a boy of his years.
He seemed to behold the scores of perils through which he had passed, and before him seemed to flit the faces of the many friends and foes he had made.
He saw the foes of his school days—Snell, Bascomb, Gage, and all the others—skulk past in procession. Snell had a sneaking, treacherous look on his face, Bascomb swaggered along in the old bullying manner, and Gage seemed to be driven along by the Evil One, who was constantly goading him to rash and desperate things. Then he saw the face of his most deadly enemy, his own cousin, Carlos Merriwell; but it no longer bore a look of malignant hatred, for it was white and cold in the last long sleep.
There were other enemies who had sprung up along his path, but they seemed like shadows in comparison to the ones of his school days.
Following these came others, and the dark look faded from his countenance. He saw Bart Hodge, who had once been his bitter enemy, but who had become his stanchest friend. Hodge held out a hand to him, as if longing to render aid in this hour of need.
Then came scores of others, the cadets at Fardale, the professors, and, last of all, the girls who had admired him and believed him noble and true.
Elsie Bellwood smiled at him sadly, and pointed to a mighty barrier that lay between them; Kate Kenyon tried to reach him, and then drew back, with a hopeless shake of her head; others came and flitted past, and last of all Inza Burrage was there, holding out her hands to him, her dark eyes full of trust.
"Inza!"
The name fell from his lips, and it aroused him. Barney had fallen asleep, and was snoring beside the fire.
But what was that? Did he still dream?
Just beyond the fire, within the outer circle of light, stood a girl!
Frank rubbed his eyes and looked again.
She was still there, and she was pressing a finger to her lips, as if asking for silence.
"Great Scott!" muttered Frank, in a dazed way.
"Sh!" came back across the fire. "Do not wake him." She motioned toward the sleeping Irish lad.
Frank pinched himself.
"Yes, I am awake myself," he said, guardedly. "And it is a girl—a pretty girl at that! How in the name of all that is wonderful does it happen there is a girl here?"
"You have no time to ask questions," came back swiftly, in a low, musical voice. "You are in a bad snare, Frank Merriwell."
The boy started violently.
"How is it that you know my name?" he demanded, astonished beyond measure.
"I tell you you have no time to ask questions. Why did you come here?"
"You seem inclined to ask questions. I came because I could not help it."
"That is not true. You came to search for the hiding place of the last of the Danites. You may as well confess it."
"But I tell you I had no idea of coming here when I started."
"I know more than your name, Frank Merriwell; I know that you were eager to come in search of the place where Uric Dugan and a few of his former friends have hidden themselves from the world, hoping to remain there in peace to the end of their days."
Frank was filled with wonder unutterable.
"Are you a supernatural creature—a phantom?" he demanded. "If not, how do you know that I ever heard of Uric Dugan?"
"I am not the only one who knows. Uric Dugan and his companions know it. They are ready for you, and you have walked into their snare. You are meshed."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that there is not one chance in ten thousand that you will ever be able to escape alive."
"By Jove! the prospect is pleasant!"
"I am in earnest. The pass by which you entered this basin is already guarded, and you cannot get out that way."
"Then we will have to get out some other way."
"There is but one other way, and that is also guarded. Do you see you are snared?"
"If you are not mistaken, it looks that way. What can I do?"
The girl made a despairing gesture.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I have begged them to spare you—to shed no more blood; but they say it is absolutely necessary in order that we may continue to live here in peace. The world at large must not know where to find the last of the Danites."
"If I give my pledge——"
"It will not be accepted. You are not the first to stray in here. Not one of them has ever gone away to tell the tale."
Frank shuddered a bit, beginning to realize that the situation was indeed a desperate one.
"If there is no chance for us to escape, why are you here to tell us?"
"I could not help warning you. I saw your fire twinkling, and I knew that you would sleep beside it. In the night death would come down upon you, and you would never awaken."
"Jupiter! That is interesting! I won't sleep for a week."
"Ah, but you cannot escape, even though you never again close your eyes in sleep. You can only avoid your doom for a little time. My heart is full of pity for you, but I am unable to do anything."
Her voice told him that she was sincere, and Frank thrilled with gratitude toward her.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Miskel," she answered.
"Miskel! What an odd name! But you seem to be a most remarkable girl. How does it happen that you are here?"
"My father is one of the last of the Danites, and I live here with him."
"Your father—who is he?"
"Uric Dugan!"
"You must not linger here. * * * Even now the Destroying Ones may be moving to fall upon you."
CHAPTER XIX.
OLD SOLITARY.
Frank uttered a low cry, causing Barney to start up.
"Pwhat's th' matter?" asked the Irish boy, reaching for his rifle. "Is it Injuns, Oi dunno?"
"Easy, Barney!" cried Frank. "You will frighten her away from—Cæsar's ghost! She's gone!"
"Pwhat's thot? Who is she, me b'y? Is it dramin' ye wur, or have ye wheels in yer head?"
"Neither. She was here a moment ago, and I was talking with her."
"Who is she?"
"Miskel."
"An' a broth av a name thot is! It's wheels ye have in yer head, me