Frank Merriwells Pursuit | Page 3

oath of Porfias del Norte!"
CHAPTER II.
THE TERROR OF O'TOOLE.
Watson Scott, familiarly known as Old Gripper, was a man of great hardihood and endurance, and, therefore, for all of his recent experience with Frank Merriwell's enemies, for all that he had been imprisoned by his captors in a natural well and had stood for hours in water up to his hips, he rapidly recovered after arriving once more at the cottage of his friend and business associate, Warren Hatch, on Lake Placid.
But Old Gripper had been aroused, and he was determined to make it hot for his recent captors, who, led by Porfias del Norte, had gone to desperate lengths to obtain valuable papers which were the basis of a business combination that threatened the interests of Del Norte and his associates.
"Unless they move on the jump I'll have the bunch of them nipped before long," Old Gripper declared.
To his vexation he found it was impossible to properly swear out a warrant for the arrest of Del Norte's companions without making the journey to Saranac Lake.
"I'll do that the first thing in the morning," he said.
In the morning, however, he found himself stiff and lame, and he was induced to delay until noon.
During the forenoon he decided to return without further delay to New York. Having settled on this, he sent a message to Saranac Lake, stating his charges against Porfias del Norte's band of desperadoes, and asking that the warrant be drawn up and brought to him at the station as he was passing through. He also gave instructions that officers should be on hand to immediately take up the work of running the gang down.
Before noon Belmont Bland, Old Gripper's private secretary, was apparently taken ill, and when the time came for Scott to depart Bland seemed unable to travel. He asserted that it was one of his usual nervous attacks, and declared he would be all right by the next day. Therefore it was arranged that he should remain at Lake Placid.
Frank Merriwell had given in to the urging of Warren Hatch, who almost begged him to stay over another day and fish again in the morning.
"It's not often I strike a fisherman after my own heart," said Hatch. "When I do I don't like to let him slip through my fingers. Stay over until to-morrow at least, Merriwell. There is no reason why you should tear away in such a hurry."
"You can stay, Merriwell," declared Scott. "We have settled the railroad deal right here. Bragg and I will get things to moving in the city. Leave that to us."
"I'm very willing to leave it to you," laughed Frank. "I'll stay one more day, Mr. Hatch."
"If we can have another good morning to fish--ah, we won't do a thing!" chuckled Hatch, ending with a cough.
"You ought to stay up here for the next month," declared Old Gripper. "That cough of yours----"
"Oh, it's nothing! I've had it for a year, and it's not serious in any way--only annoying."
At Saranac Lake Scott saw that the warrant for Del Norte was placed in the proper hands and the machinery of the law set in motion.
When Frank and Warren Hatch returned to the cottage of the latter they were surprised to find the place locked, the shutters closed, and an air of desertion hanging over everything.
But it was not deserted.
While Hatch was fumbling on the door they heard a stir within and a voice shouted:
"Be afther getting away from there, ye divvils, ur Oi'll blow yez full av lead! It's arrmed Oi am to th' tathe!"
It was the voice of Pat O'Toole, an Irishman who had been one of Del Norte's gang, but out of gratitude, had saved Frank's life and had been actively concerned in the rescue of Old Gripper.
"O'Toole!" cried Frank; "why the dickens have you locked yourself up this way?"
"Is it you, Misther Merriwell?" cried O'Toole, joyously. "It's a great relafe to hear your foine, musical voice wance more! Wait a minute unthil Oi open th' dure."
The door was unlocked and thrown open. O'Toole stood with a rifle in his hands, looking pale and agitated. Around his waist was a belt holding a pair, of pistols and a knife.
"What's the matter, man?" asked Hatch. "You look like a walking arsenal?"
"It's me loife Oi'm ready to defind to th' larrust gasp," declared the Irishman.
"Your life? Why, what----"
"Oi'm in danger of bein' murthered."
"In danger?"
"Ivery minute av me ixistence."
"What makes you think that?"
"Oi don't think it; Oi know it. Afther ye wint away to th' shtation Oi sat on th' verandy shmokin' me poipe an' thinkin'. The longer Oi thought th' more froightened Oi became. It wur Porrfeeus dil Noort thot paid me well to assist him in a litthle schame to trap a certain young gintleman named Frank Merriwell. Oi took