The sun had swung into the western sky. Under full steam the big white yacht Sachem was headed toward the northeast. The yacht was owned by Henry Crossgrove, the steel magnate, and on board was gathered a large party of his friends, several of whom were enjoying the sunshine and the sea breeze on the main deck. Of those on deck, five persons are especially interesting to us. The handsome chap in the yachting costume who frequently bent over a beautiful girl seated at his side and spoke with her in low tones was Frank Merriwell, Dick’s brother. The girl was Inza Burrage.
Not far away, in a little triangular group, were Bruce Browning and Harry Rattleton, Frank’s old Yale comrades, and Elsie Bellwood.
It was no mere chance that had brought them together. Frank had planned it, but in the first place his purpose had been to proceed by rail to Rockford and cross on one of the regular boats to Fairhaven Island. In Boston, after having gathered his party ready for the start, Merry encountered Henry Crossgrove, and happened to mention he contemplated making the trip.
Immediately Crossgrove informed Frank that his yacht lay in the harbor, and, as he was bound toward waters in the vicinity of Fairhaven, he would hoist anchor without delay. Frank was ready to accept the steel man’s hospitality on the Sachem.
“You and I have had some dealings in the past, Mr. Merriwell,” said Crossgrove, “and I deem it a privilege to have you and your friends as guests.”
“But I must arrive in Fairhaven to-morrow in time to witness a game of baseball in the afternoon,” said Frank. “My brother is down there running a ball team, and the game to-morrow finishes the season. I wouldn’t miss it for anything, Mr. Crossgrove. Do you think you can land us there all right?”
“Without question I will have you in Fairhaven in time for that ball game,” nodded the millionaire. “It will be a much more comfortable and satisfactory way of making the trip. By rail, at this season, it’s hot, and dusty, and disagreeable. Come, come, Merriwell, my boy, I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Then it’ll be yes,” laughed Frank.
In this manner it was arranged, and Frank and his friends were on the Sachem when the yacht steamed out of Boston harbor at evening.
The trip had proved most enjoyable, but now Frank seemed somewhat worried and restless. As he stood near the rail he frequently glanced at his watch.
Inza noticed this, and in a low tone she said:
“It will be too bad, Frank, if you don’t get there in time. I know how much you want to see the game.”
“Hush!” said Merry, forcing a slight smile. “If we don’t arrive in time for the game, we’ll not let Crossgrove know how disappointed we are. He’s a fine gentleman and a thoroughbred, and I wouldn’t wish him to think for a moment that he had disappointed us through his generous hospitality.”
“I say,” cried Harry Rattleton, “isn’t it great to be on the sounding bee—I mean the bounding sea? Why, even the air out here is full of wind!”
“So are you,” grunted Browning, who was lazily sprawled on a comfortable chair and puffing away at a brierwood pipe. “The hot air you’ve been giving us for the past hour is getting a little tiresome, Rattles. Can’t you close your face and let me rest?”
“Why don’t you do your neeping slights—I mean your sleeping nights?” inquired Harry. “I don’t believe you ever wake up any more. You’ve been in a trance for the last few hours.”
“On the occasion when I last met him before our meeting in Boston yesterday morning,” said Merriwell, “he was pretty wide-awake. It was at a little railroad town down in the Southwest. Hodge, Wiley, and I were passing through that town when we saw a chap beset by a dozen burly ruffians. Evidently they were trying to lynch him. He was a big fellow, and he knocked them right and left with tremendous blows. It was Hodge who recognized him, I believe. Bruce Browning was the fellow, and he was very wide-awake on that occasion.”
“That’s right,” grunted Browning, “but you haven’t told the story quite straight, Merry. It was Barney Mulloy the ruffians were after. I sailed in to give him a hand, and then you folks chipped in just in time to help us both out. By George, Merry, I thought you’d dropped right down from the skies! Say, that’s a great country down there. Mulloy is down there now, running our mine. He’s a dandy, that Irishman! He’s the whitest, squarest, most reliable fellow I ever saw—present company excepted. We’ve not had your luck, Merriwell; but I believe we have a valuable claim down there, and we’ll make a dollar out of it some day. You and Hodge were mighty fortunate.”
“There’s no question about that,” agreed Frank instantly. “Still, we’ve had to fight for our rights. It was a hard old fight to hold the Phantom Mine, but we held it. Hodge seemed anxious to sell in case we could get the price. That’s what brought us to Chicago. The syndicate that had made us the offer balked, and the deal ............