Frank Merriwells Bravery | Page 9

to regard it as extremely funny, for he laughed
outright.
"Thot bates th' worruld!" he cried. "But it's dead aisy ye kin prove ye're
not Black Harry at all, at all!"
"I don't know about that. I have been identified."
"Pwhat's thot?"
"I have been recognized by a person who has seen Black Harry's face."
"Who is that fool person?" demanded Scotch, furiously. "Show me to

him, and let me give him a piece of my mind!"
"There is the person."
Frank pointed straight at Lona Dawson, who was regarding him with
horrified eyes from a distant corner of the waiting-room.
"Thot girrul?"
"The young lady?"
"Yes."
"Who is she?"
"Miss Dawson, daughter of Robert Dawson, the banker, whom Black
Harry shot during the train hold-up last night. Dawson tore the mask
from the young robber's face, and she saw it. A few moments ago she
declared that I was the wretch who shot her father."
The girl heard his words, and she started forward, panting fiercely:
"You are! You are! I will swear to it with my dying breath! I saw your
face plainly last night, and I can never forget it. You are the murderous
ruffian from whose face my father tore the mask!"
Professor Scotch was fairly staggered, but he quickly recovered, and
swiftly said:
"My dear young lady, I assure you that you have made the greatest
mistake of your life. I know this boy--I am his guardian. It is not
possible that he is Black Harry, for----"
"Were you with him last night?"
"No. We were----"
"Don't talk to me, then! Black Harry or not, he shot my father!"

"But--but--why, he would not do such a thing!"
"He did!"
It seemed that nothing could shake her belief.
"Av yez plaze, miss," said Barney, lifting his hat, and bowing politely,
"it's thot same b'y Oi have known a long toime. Oi went ter school with
thot lad, an' a whoiter b'y nivver drew a breath. He'd foight fer ye till he
died, av he didn't git killed, an' it's nivver would he shoot anybody at all,
at all, onless it wur in silf-definse. Oi give ye me wurrud thot is th' truth,
th' whole truth, an' nothing but th' truth."
The girl was unmoved.
"I have sworn to avenge my poor father!" she declared. "He shall not
escape!"
"It is useless to talk here," said Frank. "She believes she is right, and
her mind will not be changed till she sees the real Black Harry at my
side. It must be that the fellow is my double, and so my life will be in
peril till he is captured, and meets his just deserts. From this time on for
me it is a fight for life and honor."
CHAPTER V.
HURRIED TO JAIL.
At this moment another wild roar rose outside the station, telling that
something had again aroused the mob:
Hank Kildare was in the doorway, blocking it with his gigantic form,
his long-barreled revolvers holding the crowd at bay, while he hoarsely
cried:
"You galoots know me! Ef yer crowd me, some o' yer will take his
everlastin' dose o' lead!"

They dared not crowd him. He could hold them back at that point, but
there were other ways of reaching the interior of the waiting-room,
where the prisoner was.
"Ther back door!" howled a voice. "We kin git at him thet way!"
"Hear that?" fluttered Professor Scotch. "They're coming, Frank! We
must get out before they get in that way! Quick!"
He caught hold of the boy, and started to urge him toward the rear door;
but Lona Dawson placed herself squarely in their path, flinging up one
hand.
"Stop!" she cried, her eyes flashing. "You cannot pass! You shall not
escape!"
A look of admiration came into Frank's eyes, for she was very beautiful
at that moment.
"As you will," he bowed, gallantly. "I may get my neck stretched by
remaining, but your wish is law."
"Well, I like that!" roared the professor, in a manner that plainly
indicated he did not like it.
"Av ye choose ter make a fool av yersilf, Frank, it's not yer friends thot
will see ye do it in this case!" cried Barney.
The Irish lad grasped Frank by one arm, while the professor clutched
the other, and they were about to rush him toward the door, for all of
any opposition, when the door flew open with a bang, and a man
pitched headlong into the room. This person carried a bundle, which
burst open as he struck the floor, scattering its contents in all directions.
"Moses in der pulrushes!" exclaimed the nasal voice of Solomon
Rosenbum, and the Jew sat up in the midst of the wreck. "Dat vas vat I
call comin' in lifely, vid der