“Porfias del Norte lies tied hand and foot in the saloon of the _Sachem_,” said Dick. “You can thank my friend Buckhart for it, too. I caught Del Norte as he was trying to get away with the paper, and we had a little racket in the saloon. I downed him once, but he squirmed away from me. The second time, as he was falling, he caught hold of the table, which threw me to one side, and my head struck against a chair. I was stunned, and Del Norte proceeded to choke me, with the intention of finishing me. Just then Brad sailed in and landed on Del Norte’s shoulders with one spring. We handled him all right, and left him tied hand and foot, with one of the sailors keeping watch at the head of the companionway.” “This is wonderful! This is astounding!” gasped Henry Crossgrove. “I didn’t think it of the man.” “It is astounding,” nodded Merry. “It’s astounding that he should escape death after falling over that precipice.” “He was some tattered and battered,” put in Buckhart. “His clothes were ripped and his face and hands scratched and cut.” “He must have landed fairly in a treetop and escaped in that manner,” said Frank. “Boys, you have done well. Let’s hurry to the _Sachem_ and take a look at our captive.” No time was lost in getting off to the yacht. They found the sailor apparently still on guard at the head of the companionway. He was sitting in a bowed position, and when they approached him he was seen to be fast asleep. Henry Crossgrove was exasperated. “This chap shall receive his walking papers as soon as I can speak to the captain,” he declared. Dick led the way into the saloon, with the others close behind him. When he opened the door and looked in a cry of astonishment and dismay escaped his lips. On the floor lay the cords with which Del Norte had been bound. In some manner the slippery Mexican had released himself, and he had lost not a moment in sneaking up the companionway and past the sleeping guard. He was gone, having in some manner escaped unobserved from the yacht. It was supposed he had dropped overboard and swum to another yacht near by, where he secured a rowboat and put ashore. The boat was found drifting the following morning. “Too bad he got away,” muttered Bart Hodge. “Perhaps he has learned his lesson and will not bother the Merriwells in future.” “On the contrary,” said Frank, “I think I shall see more of Porfias del Norte before much time has elapsed. I fancy the struggle between that man and myself has just begun.” THE END. “Frank Merriwell’s Peril” is the title of the next volume of THE MERRIWELL SERIES, No. 115. A story by Burt L. Standish showing the further adventures of the intrepid Frank Merriwell and his marvelous ability in outwitting his treacherous foes. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ BOOKS THAT NEVER GROW OLD ALGER SERIES