Frank Merriwell Down South | Page 6

Burt L. Standish
hide
themselves."
He went out, and found Professor Scotch and Hans awaiting his
appearance with no small amount of anxiety.
"Ah!" said the professor, with a deep breath of relief, "you are all
right."
"All right," said Frank, with amusement; "of course I am. What did you
think? Fancy I was going to be spirited away by spooks?"
The little man drew himself up with an assumption of great dignity.
"Young man," he rumbled, in his deepest tone, "don't be frivolous on
such an occasion as this. You are quite aware that I do not believe in
spooks or anything of the sort; but we are in a strange country now, and
strange things happen here."
"Yah," nodded Hans. "Dot peen oxactly righdt."
"For instance, the disappearance of that corpse is most remarkable."
"Dot peen der first dime I nefer known a deat man to ged ub un valk
avay all alone mit himseluf by," declared Hans.

"What do you think has happened here, professor?" asked Frank.
"It is plain Jack Burk's body is gone."
"Sure enough."
"And does it not seem reasonable that he walked away himself?"
"Vell, you don'd know apout dot," broke in Hans. "Maype he don'd
pelief we vos goin' pack here to bury him, und he got tiret uf vaiting for
der funerals."
"There must have been other people here after we left," said Frank.
"Right," nodded the professor.
"Bandits?"
"Bushnell?"
"One or the other."
"Perhaps both."
Frank fell to examining the ground for "signs," but, although his eyes
were unusually keen, he was not an expert in such matters, and he
discovered nothing that could serve as a revelation.
"The man was dead beyond a doubt, professor--you are sure?"
"Sure?" roared the little man, bristling in a moment. "Of course I'm sure!
Do you take me for a howling idiot?"
"Don't get excited, professor. The best of us are liable to err at times. It
would not be strange if you----"
"But I didn't--I tell you I didn't! The body may have been removed by
the bandits which hang about this section."

"Or by Al Bushnell, Burk's partner."
"Yes; Bushnell may have recognized him, although he did not seem to
do so. In that case, he has been here----"
"And that explains everything."
"Everything."
"He took the body away to give it decent burial."
"And we have had our trouble for nothing."
By this time the native undertaker got the drift of the talk, and set up a
wail of lamentation and accusation. He had come all that distance at
great expense to himself and great waste of time during which he might
have been sleeping or smoking. It was robbery, robbery, robbery. It was
like the Americanoes. He had a wife and many--very many children
depending on him. He had been tricked by the Americanoes, and he
would complain that he had been cheated. They should be arrested;
they should be compelled to pay.
"Oh, come your perch off, und gone took a fall to yournseluf!" cried
Hans, in disgust. "You gif me der lifer gomblaint!"
The native continued to wail and lament and accuse them until Frank
succeeded in quieting him by paying him three times as much as he
would have asked had the body been found in the hut. The old fellow
saw how he could make it appear as a clean case of deception on the
part of the strangers, and he worked his little game for all there was in
it. Having received his money, he lost no time in turning his cart about
and heading back toward Mendoza, evidently fearing the body might be
found at last and forced upon him.
"We'd better be going, too," said Professor Scotch.
"That's right," agreed Frank. "There is no telling what danger we may
encounter on the plain after nightfall."

"Vell, don'd let us peen all nighd apout gedding a mofe on," fluttered
Hans, hastening toward the horses.
So they mounted and rode away toward Mendoza, although Frank was
far from satisfied to do so without solving the mystery of the
remarkable disappearance.
Darkness was falling heavily on the plain, across which a cool and
refreshing breath came from the distant mountains.
Frank kept his eyes open for danger, more than half expecting to run
upon a gang of bandits at any moment. As they approached the town
they began to breathe easier, and, before long, they were riding along
the dusty road that led into the little town.
Entering Mendoza they found on each hand low buildings connected by
long, white adobe walls, against which grew prickly pears in abundance,
running in straggling lines away out upon the open country.
About the edges of the town were little fires, winking redly here and
there, with earthen pots which were balanced on smoldering
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