Frank Merriwell's Alarm: or, Doing His Best

However, it soon became evident that the spirits of the lads had been lightened somewhat, and they pedaled onward straight for the grim mountains which had seemed so near for the last two hours.

The sun poured its stifling heat down on the great desert, where nothing save an occasional clump of sage brush could be seen.

Heat shimmered in the air, and it was not strange that the young cyclists were disheartened and ready to give up in despair.

Suddenly a cry came from Diamond.

“Look!” he shouted. “Look to the south! Why haven’t we seen it before? We’re blind. Water, water!”

They looked, and, at a distance of less than a mile it seemed they could see a beautiful lake of water, with trees on the distant shore. The reflection of the trees showed in the mirror-like surface of the blue lake.

“Come on!” hoarsely cried Jack, as he turned his wheel southward. “I’ll be into that water up to my neck in less than ten minutes!”

“Stop!” shouted Merriwell.

Jack did not seem to hear. If he heard, he did not heed the command. He was bending far over the handlebars and using all his energy to send his wheel spinning toward the beautiful lake.

“I must stop him!” cried Frank. “It is a race for life!”

Frank forgot that a short time before Jack Diamond had accused him of leading them all to their doom by inducing them to attempt to cross the barren waste – he forgot everything save that his comrade was in danger.

No, he did not forget everything. He knew what that race meant. It might exhaust them both and render them unable to ride their wheels over the few remaining miles of barren desert between them and the mountain range. When Diamond learned the dreadful, heart-sickening truth about that beautiful lake of water it might rob his heart of courage and hope so that he would drop in despair and give himself up to death in the desert.

Frank would save him – he must save him! He felt a personal responsibility for the lives of every one of the party, and he had resolved that all should return to New Haven in safety.

“Stop, Jack!” he shouted again.

But the sight of that beautiful lake had made Diamond mad with a longing to plunge into the water, to splash in it, to drink his fill till not another swallow could he force down his throat.

Madly he sent his wheel flying over the sandy plain, panting, gasping, furious to reach the lake.

How beautiful the water looked! How cool and inviting was the shade of the trees on the other shore! Oh, he would go around there and rest beneath those trees.

Frank bent forward over the handlebars, muttering:

“Ride now as you never rode before!”

The wheel seemed to leap away like a thing of life – it flew as if it possessed wings.

But Frank did not gain as swiftly as he desired, for Diamond, also, was using all his energy to send his bicycle along.

“Faster! faster!” panted Frank.

Faster and faster he flew along. The hot breath of the desert beat on his face as if it came rushing from the mouth of a furnace. It seemed to scorch him. Fine particles of sand whipped up and stung his flesh.

He heard a strange laugh – a wild laugh.

“Heaven pity him!” thought Frank, knowing that laugh came from Jack’s lips. “The sight of that ghostly lake has nearly turned his brain with joy. I fear he will go mad, indeed, when he knows the truth.”

On sped pursued and pursuer, and the latter was still gaining. Frank Merriwell had engaged in many contests of skill and endurance, but never in one where more was at stake. His success in overtaking his friend meant the saving of a human life – perhaps two lives.

Now he was gaining swiftly, and something like a prayer of thankfulness came from his lips.

Once more he cried out to the lad in advance, but it seemed that Diamond’s ears were dumb, for he made no sound that told he heard.

One last spurt – Frank felt that it must bring him to Diamond’s side. He gathered himself, his feet clinging to the flying pedals as if fastened there.

A slip, a fall, a miscalculation might mean utter failure, and failure might mean death for Diamond.

Now Frank was close behind his friend. He could hear the whirring sound of the spokes of Diamond’s wheel cutting the air, and he could hear the hoarse, panting breathing of his friend.

A steady hand guided Merriwell’s wheel alongside that of his friend; a steady and a strong hand fell on the shoulder of the lad who had been crazed by the alluring vision of the lake in the desert.

“Stop, Jack!”

Diamond turned toward his friend a face from which a pair of glaring eyes looked out. His lips curled back from his white teeth, and he snarled:

“Hands off! Don’t try to hold me back! Can’t you see it, you fool! The lake – the lake!”

“There is no lake!”

“Yes, there is! You are blind! See it!”

“Stop, Jack! I tell you there is no lake!”

Frank tried to check his friend, but Diamond made a swinging blow at him, which Merriwell managed to stop.

“Wait – listen a moment!” entreated Frank.

But the belief that a lake of water lay a short distance away had completely driven anything like reason from Diamond’s head.

“Hands off!” he shouted. “If you try to stop me you’ll be sorry!”

Frank saw he must resort to desperate measures. He secured a firm grip on the shoulder of the young Virginian, and, a moment later, gave a surge that caused them both to fall from their wheels.

Over and over they rolled, and then lay in a limp heap on the desert, where the earth was hot and baked and the sun beat down with a fierce parching heat.

Diamond was the first to stir, and he tried to scramble up, his one thought being to mount his wheel again and ride onward toward the shimmering lure.

Frank seemed to realize this, for he caught at his friend, grasped him and held him fast.

Then there was a furious struggle there on the desert, Diamond making a mad effort to break away, but being held by Frank, who would not let him go.

The eyes of both lads glared and their teeth were set. Frank tried to force Diamond down and hold him, but Jack had the strength of an insane person, and, time after time, he flung his would-be benefactor off.

The eyes of the young Virginian were red and bloodshot, while his lips were cracked and bleeding. His cap was gone, and his straight dark hair fell in a tousled mass over his forehead.

Occasionally muttered words came from Diamond’s lips, but the other was silent, seeming to realize that he must conquer the mad fellow by sheer strength alone.