Frank was inclined to resent the stranger’s words and manner.

“I don’t understand how that concerns you, sir,” he said, rather stiffly.

“Hey,” cried the man, glaring at Merry. “Don’t git insolent, youngster! I don’t like it.”

“Your question was impertinent.”

“Whatever is that? Be careful. I don’t want any foolin’.”

Frank smiled at this, which seemed to make the horseman angry.

“Hang ye!” he exclaimed. “You want to be respectful, for you’re liable to get into trouble with me, and you won’t like that.”

“Shoo fly!” chuckled Toots, showing his big white teeth in a grin. “G’way dar, man! Yo’ gibs me de fever an’ chillins.”

“Wa-al, dern me!” roared the man, growing very red in the face. “It’s the first time an ordinary nigger ever dared to speak to Bill Higgins that way.”

“Hole on, sar! I ain’t no ordumnary nigger, sar. I’s a cullud gemman ob ’stinction, sar, an’ po’ white trash cayarn’t talk to me lek dat—no, sar!”

“Choke off that critter!” growled the man, addressing Frank. “If yer don’t, I’ll shoot him full of holes!”

“I wouldn’t advise you to do that,” came calmly from Merriwell. “You might get into serious trouble if you did.”

“Trouble?—trouble over shootin’ a nigger?” snorted the stranger. “Wa-al, I think not! I’ve got the record of killin’ a dozen white men, and——”

“Thirteen is an unlucky number you know. Without doubt you will be hanged, as you deserve, when you kill the thirteenth one.”

“Mebbe so, but a nigger won’t count. I’ll bore him if he opens his trap again!”

“Land ob mercy!” gurgled Toots, dodging behind a tree. “Dat man am crazzy fo’ suah! Look out fo’ him, chilluns; dar am no tellin’ when he’ll tek a noshun inter his fool haid teh shoot you all.”

“You must be a very bad man,” said Merriwell, sarcastically.

“I am; and now yer realize it, mebbe you’ll have a little more respect. Who be yer? an’ what’re yer doing here?”

“If you will show that you have any right to ask those questions, I will answer them.”

“Right! Why, hang it! I’m ther sheriff of this county!”

“Well, what have we done that the sheriff of this county or any other county in California should come around and demand our names, as if we were criminals?”

“Ye’re suspicious characters.”

“Is that it? And we look like dangerous criminals?”

“I’ve seen fellows what didn’t look more dangerous than you as was rather tough.”

“Well, we are not tough, and we have no reason for concealing our names.”

Then Frank gave the name of each of the boys, pointing them out as he did so, and told how they happened to be in California.

Bill Higgins, as the man had called himself, listened and looked them over. His manner seemed to change, and he said:

“You tell that pretty straight, and I reckon you’re not giving me a crooked deal, but whar’s to’ other one?”

“What other one?”

“The one what owns the other bisuckle. Thar’s only five of you, and here are six bisuckles.”

The keen eyes of the sheriff made this discovery, and Frank realized that Hodge’s wheel should have been concealed.

“Oh, the other fellow has just stepped aside to look at the big trees,” he explained. “This is the first time we have ever seen trees like these. They are wonders, sir. Do you have them all over the State? How tall are they? Can you give us the dimensions of the largest tree discovered in this State? We desire some information concerning them.”

“I see ye do,” said Higgins, with sarcasm, “an’ I desire a little information myself. You’ll answer my questions.”

Frank feared his ruse would fail, but he suavely said:

“Oh, certainly—of course, sir. We shall be pleased to answer your questions. Do these trees make good timber for building purposes? Are they difficult to work up? How thick is the bark? And how——”

“That’ll do!” roared the sheriff, fiercely. “I’m no bureau of information. Whar is the other feller?”

Frank assumed a dignified and injured air.

“As you do not seem inclined to answer my questions, I must decline to answer yours,” he said, coldly. “If you will drive along, it will be agreeable to us.”

Higgins showed his yellow teeth through his grizzled beard.

“Oh-ho!” he grated. “So that’s the trick. Wa-al, I know t’other chap is near, an’ I’m goin’ ter see him. That is settled.”

Off his horse he sprang, leaving the animal to stand, and then, to the surprise of all, he ran to the tree behind which Bart was concealed, dashed around it, and gave a shout of triumph.

A moment later the sheriff reappeared, dragging Hodge by the collar.

“Don’t try ter git away!” he commanded. “If ye do, you’ll be sorry. I don’t fool with a critter of your caliber.”

“Let go!” cried Bart, indignantly. “What are you trying to do with me? Take your hands off, sir!”

“Not till I lodge ye behind bars, young feller. You’re under arrest, so cool down and keep still.”

“Why am I arrested?”

“Oh, you don’t know; oh, no!”

“Answer my question, sir! Why am I arrested?”

“Now, don’t go to gettin’ funny and givin’ orders. It ain’t necessary to answer.”

Frank stepped forward.

“It is no more than right that you should tell me why you have arrested my friend, sir,” he said.

“Ho! ho!” cried the sheriff. “So he is your friend! I thought as much! Well, don’t you get too frisky, or I may take a notion to arrest you, too.”

“Such a thing would be an outrage, and I believe you have perpetrated an outrage in arresting Mr. Hodge.”

“I don’t care what you think!”

“At the same time, I see no reason why you should refuse to tell me why you have arrested him.”

“Jive him gesse—I mean give him Jesse!” fluttered Rattleton, as he sought Frank’s side. “You know we will stand by you, old man. If you say the word, we’ll take Hodge away from him.”

Bill Higgins’ ears were sharp, and he caught the words. Like a flash he whipped out a huge revolver, which he held in a menacing manner, while he growled:

“Thirteen may be an unlucky number, but skin me if I don’t make it thirteen or more if you chaps tries the trick!”

He looked as if he meant what he said.

“Steady, fellows,” warned Merriwell, as the boys gathered at his back, ready for anything. “Don’t be hasty.”

“It won’t be good fer yer if you are!” muttered Higgins.

“We can take Hodge away from him—I know we can!” whispered Diamond, eagerly. “Say the word, and we’ll jump him!”

“That’s right,” nodded Browning, with deliberation.

Higgins backed off a bit, still holding fast to Hodge, and handling his revolver threateningly.

“Blamed if I don’t take the whole gang in!” he shouted. “I reckon you’re all standin’ in together with this feller.”

“You will have a warm time taking in this crowd,” said Frank, quickly. “We are friends of Mr. Hodge, and therefore we think it no more than right that we should know why he is arrested.”

“If that’s goin’ to satisfy ye, you shall know. He’s arrested for shovin’ the queer.”

“Shoving—the—queer?”

“That’s whatever!”

“But—but there must be a mistake.”

“Bill Higgins never makes mistakes.”

Frank was shocked, stunned. He looked at Bart, and Hodge’s face, which had been pale, turned crimson with apparent shame. It was like a blow to Merriwell, for the conviction that Hodge was guilty came over him.

“It was that wretched girl—she did it!” he thought. “She has led him into this. She has influenced him to put out some of that bogus money, and he, like the infatuated fool that he was, did it willingly. Oh, it is a shame!”

Bart stole a glance at Frank, and saw by the expression of Merry’s face that he was convinced of his folly. Immediately Hodge seemed to wilt, as if hope had gone out of him. The color left his face, and it became wan and drawn, with an expression of anguish that aroused Frank’s deepest pity.

“I don’t care!” Merriwell mentally exclaimed. “He did it because he was hypnotized—because her influence compelled him to do so. If he is brought to trial now it will mean his utter ruin. What can I do for him? Can I do anything?”

Bart saw the change that came over Frank’s face, but did not understand what it meant. Instead, noticing a hard, determined look, he fancied his former friend was hardening his heart against him.

Of a sudden Hodge gave the sheriff a shove and trip, sending him sprawling on the ground, his revolver being discharged as he fell. Fortunately the bullet harmed no one.

Like a flash, the desperate boy darted away. He caught his wheel, which stood against a tree, and was on it in a moment. His feet caught the pedals, and away he went down the road.

Bill Higgins scrambled up, uttering language that was shocking to hear.

“The cursed whelp!” he roared. “He can’t ride faster than bullets can travel! I’ll fill him full of lead!”

Then he flung up the revolver.

Merriwell was quite as swift in his movements.

“No, you don’t!”

With that cry on his lips, Frank knocked the weapon aside just as it was discharged, and the bullet sped skyward through the tree tops.

Then Bill Higgins whirled and tried to shoot the boy who had saved Bart Hodge, but the heavy fist of Bruce Browning fell on his temple, and he dropped like a log to the ground.

Frank picked up the sheriff’s revolver, which had fallen from his hand, and, when Higgins sat up, he found himself looking into the muzzle of his own weapon.

“Get out!”

Merriwell uttered the words, and Higgins took the hint.

“All right,” he snarled; “but this doesn’t end it! I’ll make all of yer suffer fer this!”

He arose, mounted his waiting horse, and galloped away after Hodge.