With a feeling of numbness and pain in every limb and every part of his body, Frank Merriwell stirred and tried to sit up. His strength seemed to be gone, and he wondered at his weakness.

“What—what does it mean?” he asked himself, puzzled.

There was a cloud on his brain, and, for the time, he did not remember what had happened. He realized he was lying on the ground, and he wondered if he had been there long.

After a time he turned his head a bit, and close beside him he saw Harry Rattleton, stretched on his back, his arms outspread, his face ghastly pale.

A chill of horror seized upon Merriwell’s heart.

Why didn’t Harry move? Why were his eyes closed? Why was his face so white?

There was something horrible and awe-inspiring about those rigid limbs and that ghastly face.

“He is dead!”

He succeeded in speaking the words aloud, although his voice was weak and faint. The sound startled him, and, with a mighty effort, he lifted himself to one elbow.

“Harry!” he panted, thickly—“Harry, wake up!”

Still no stir.

“Harry, Harry, are you asleep?”

Rattleton remained motionless.

Holding himself thus, Frank watched, but he could not see that the bosom of his friend rose and fell at all—he could not see that Harry breathed.

Surely that pallid face was not the face of a living person! It had the stamp of death upon it!

“Merciful goodness!” whispered Frank, as he dragged himself nearer. “I know—I am sure some frightful thing has happened to us! But I do not seem to remember.”

He paused and stared about. Sunset light was on the snow-capped peaks of the Sierras, and away up there they were dazzling to the eye; but there were deep shadows below—black shadows in the heart of Frank Merriwell.

“The mountains!” he faintly murmured—“they are all around us! This is not the desert—no, no! We were not overcome by hunger and thirst. Something—something else struck us down!”

He lifted one hand to his head, which was so numb and felt so lifeless. What was the trouble?

Concentrating all his faculties, he forced himself to think. Then he seemed to remember.

“The girl!” he faintly exclaimed—“we were searching for her! We were trying to find the cave, and—we found it!”

He remembered at last. He remembered the appearance of the old man of the white hair and beard; he remembered that the girl had come forth from the mouth of the cave; he remembered the warning of the strange man and the frightful shock that had followed.

“Jingoes!” he said. “I believe we were struck by lightning! I’m not completely knocked out, but Harry seems to be.”

Then he reached Rattleton and touched his face, felt for his pulse, sought to discover if his heart beat.

Close to the breast of his friend Frank placed his ear, and what he heard caused him to utter a cry of satisfaction.

“Not dead!” he exclaimed. “He still lives! There is a chance for him.”

The thought that Harry’s life might depend on his efforts aroused him still more. He loosened Harry’s sweater and the collar about his throat, he chafed his wrists and temples, he fanned him, called to him, sought in many ways to arouse him.

At last he saw signs of success. Rattleton’s breast rose and fell, and he gave a great sigh.

“That’s right, old man!” cried Frank, with satisfaction. “Just open your peepers and let us know you are recovering.”

Harry opened his eyes.

“Where—what—why——”

He seemed unable to ask the questions that sought for utterance.

“I was thinking the same things a few moments ago,” said Frank. “We were knocked out in the first round with the old hermit.”

“Hermit—what hermit?”

“That’s it,” nodded Merry. “You’re as bad off as I was. Why, Carter Morris, the uncle of the girl with the golden hair, who has hit you so hard.”

A light of understanding came to Harry’s face, and he revived with wonderful swiftness.

“I remember it all now!” he faintly exclaimed. “But I do not know what happened to us. It seemed to me that something struck me.”

“Something did.”

“What was it?”

“I don’t know, but something knocked us both out. You remember that the old man warned us not to advance another step—said it would mean instant death if we did.”

“Yes; but I thought the old duffer was bluffing.”

“So did I. I have since decided that he wasn’t.”

“You think he gave us the knock-out?”

“I do.”

“How could he?”

“Some way. He has some mysterious power, with the aid of which he guards the mouth of that cave.”

“And that power must be——”

“Electricity!”

“It’s a dead-sure thing!” cried Harry. “We were given an electric shock. When the man touched the wall with his hand, he turned on the current.”

“I believe it.”

“But how did the shock reach us?”

“Don’t know. I saw no wires.”

“Nor I.”

“There must have been wires.”

“I presume so.”

“Well, where are we now?”

They looked around, but there was nothing about their surroundings that they remembered having seen before.

“We are not in front of the cave,” said Frank.

“No, we are not where we fell, that is sure.”

“We must have been removed to this spot.”

“Sure.”

“The bicycles—where are they?”

With no small difficulty they got upon their feet, and then they saw their wheels leaning against the face of a black rock near by.

At first their legs seemed scarcely able to support their weight, but they grew stronger as the moments passed, and they approached the wheels.

Then it was they saw something drawn with white chalk on the smooth surface of the black rock.

It was the representation of a human hand, with the index finger pointing in a certain direction.

Beneath the hand were these words:

“THIS WAY—GO!”

“It is a warning!” cried Frank.

“You boot your bets—I mean bet your boots! It tells us to git.”

“Well?”

With that word Frank turned on Harry sharply.

“You may go if you want to,” said Rattleton; “but I never knew you to run away. You are not easily scared.”

“How about you?”

“I am here to find that girl, and I am going to stay till I find her or croak! That’s how about me!”

“Good stuff!” cried Merry, approvingly, as he grasped the hand of his comrade. “We’ll both stay till we find her.”

In a short time the boys began to feel like themselves once more. Taking their wheels along, they sought for a spring, and were able to find one.

There they stopped and made a meal from the hard bread and jerked beef, which was washed down with clear water from the spring.

“Now I am all right,” Harry declared. “A feed was what I needed.”

They discussed matters a few minutes, and then, carefully observing the surroundings, decided to conceal the bicycles in the vicinity of the spring and seek for the mouth of the cave once more.

They found a good hiding place for the wheels, and there the machines were stowed away.

“We can’t be so awfully far from that cave,” Frank decided. “One man and a girl would not be able to bring us a long distance.”

But the cave was not easy to find, and the more they searched the more bewildered they became.

Meanwhile night was coming on swiftly.

“Hist!” warned Harry, suddenly grasping Frank’s wrist and drawing him down behind some bowlders. “Look there!”

“What is it?”

“Moving figures! I saw them distinctly over there.”

“The man and the girl?”

“Couldn’t tell. There they are again. Look!”

“I see! It is not the man and the girl. It is two men.”

“That is right—or, at least, a man and something that resembles a man.”

“It is Bernard Belmont and his gorilla man!”

“You are right, Merry, my boy; and they, too, are searching for the mouth of the cave. It will be a good scheme to watch them.”