Frank Merriwell Down South | Page 3

the straw. "You shall see--you shall know!
But our balloon--we had no means of obtaining a further supply of gas.
It was barely sufficient to take us across the gulf, with a few pieces of
treasure. We struck against the side of the bluff--we were falling back
into the abyss! Barely were we able to scramble out of the car and cling
to the rocks. Then we saw the balloon rise a little, like a bird freed of
burden; but it suddenly collapsed, fluttered downward, and the mists
leaped up and clutched it like a thousand exulting demons, dragging it
down from our sight. We crawled up from the rocks, but it was a close
call--a close call."

He lay exhausted, his eyes closed, his hand ceasing to fumble beneath
the straw. Once more Professor Scotch gave him a little of the brandy.
Frank Merriwell was more than interested; he could feel his heart
trembling with excitement. Something seemed to tell him that this man
was speaking the truth, and he was eager to hear more.
For a long time the unfortunate lay gasping painfully for breath, but, at
last, he was easier. He opened his eyes, and saw Frank watching him
steadily, with an anxious expression.
"Ah!" he murmured, exultantly, "you believe me--you do not doubt! I
must tell you everything. You shall be Jack Burk's heir. Think of
it--heir to wealth enough to make you richer than Monte Cristo!
Witness--witness that I make this boy my heir!"
He turned to the professor and Hans, and both bowed, the former
saying:
"We are witnesses."
"Good! We escaped with our lives, but we brought little of the treasure
with us. I was determined to find the way back there, and I made a map.
See, here it is."
He thrust a soiled and crumpled piece of paper into Frank's hand, and
the boy saw there were lines and writing on it.
"How we found our way out of the mountains, how we endured the
heat of the desert I cannot tell," went on the weak voice of the man on
the bed of straw. "We reached Zacatecas, and then Bushnell went for
another balloon. He knows friends who have money and power, and he
will get the balloon--if he lives."
"But the proof--the proof that you were going to show us?"
"It is here! Look!"
From beneath the straw Jack Burk drew forth a queer little figure of

solid gold--a figure like the pictures of Aztec gods, which Frank had
seen.
"This is proof!" declared the man. "It is some of the treasure we
brought from the palace. Bushnell took the rest."
The professor excitedly grasped the little image, and gazed searchingly
at it.
"It is all right--it is genuine!" he finally exclaimed.
"Of course it is genuine!" said the man on the bed of grass. "And there
are more in the Silver Palace. There the treasures of the Aztecs were
hidden, and they have remained. The country all around is full of fierce
natives, who hold the palace in awe and prevent others from reaching it.
They have kept the secret well, but----"
"Vot vos dot?" interrupted Hans.
At some distance on the plain outside the hut were wildly galloping
horses, for they could hear hoof-beats and loud cries. Then came a
fusillade of pistol shots!
[Illustration: "Frank began shooting, and his first bullet brought down
one of the ponies of the pursuers." (See page 14)]
CHAPTER II.
GONE.
"Bandits!" cried Jack Burk. "It may be Pacheco!"
"Pacheco?" questioned Frank.
"Pacheco, the human hawk! He haunts the mountains and the desert.
He pursued us across the desert, but we escaped him. I have been in
hiding here to avoid him. He believes we brought much treasure from
the mountains."

The professor had leaped to the door, and was looking away on the
plain. Now he cried, excitedly:
"Look here! A band of horsemen pursuing a white man--plainly an
American. Look, he is shooting again!"
Once more the shots were heard.
Frank ran to the door, catching up a rifle that had been leaning against
the wall of the hut, for he knew he was in a "bad man's land."
"Stand aside!" he shouted, forcing his way past the professor. "No
countryman of mine can be in danger that I do not try to give him a
helping hand."
"What do you mean to do?"
"Get a crack at those Greasers."
"You are crazy! You will bring the entire band down on us!"
"Let 'em come! One Yankee is good for six Greasers."
Past the hut at a distance a single horseman was riding, hotly spurring
the animal which bore him. At least a dozen dark-faced, fierce-looking
ruffians, mounted on hardy little ponies, were in pursuit.
As Professor Scotch had said, the fugitive