“I will tell you the truth, Frank,” she finally said. “It’s best that you should know. I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t wish you to have trouble with Del Norte while we were guests of Mr. Crossgrove on the _Sachem_. It was my intention to let you know everything the moment we left the yacht. Del Norte has twice tried to make love to me. Last night on board the yacht he kissed my hand. Perhaps I was foolish to give him the opportunity, but he interested me with his story, and he seized the occasion to kiss my hand before I fancied he would attempt such a thing. To-night, on the hotel veranda, he made an effort to resume his love-making, but I gave him a warning which silenced him. Had he offered to annoy me again, even though it must have caused trouble between you, I should have told you everything. He swore to me that he would some day get the best of you, Frank, and make me love him.” “And this is what it has come to,” muttered Merry. “Well, the treacherous dog brought it on himself.” When they reached the veranda and told what had happened there was consternation in the party. Merry did not tell the entire truth. He concealed the fact that a struggle had taken place on the brink of the precipice. Without delay Henry Crossgrove ordered the team hitched up, and in a short time the party left the hotel, the men descending on foot. Frank led them all, with Hodge close beside him. As they hastened down the road, Merry told Bart in low tones exactly what had taken place. “I knew it!” said Hodge. “I knew the kind of thing he was! Are you going to lead the searching party, Frank?” “Yes. I think it best to notify the authorities and secure lanterns. Without the aid of lanterns we will be handicapped in our search down there amid the dark woods near the foot of the mountain.” They had reached the outskirts of the village when a carriage approached at a rapid pace. To their surprise they were hailed by the voice of Dick Merriwell. “Hello, Dick!” exclaimed Frank. “Is that you?” An instant later Dick and Brad sprang out. “We were just making for the top of the mountain,” explained young Merriwell. “We have something on board the _Sachem_ that will interest you.” “What is it?” questioned Frank. “A slick rascal who broke into our stateroom, opened your strong box, and attempted to get away with one of the papers.” “Who was it?” cried Merry. “Porfias del Norte.” “Dick, you’re dreaming!” almost shouted Frank, as he caught his brother by the shoulder. “Porfias del Norte lies dead up there on the mountainside. He fell over a precipice.”