"Thankee," said the foreman, somewhat awkwardly. "I've tried to do my best, sir."
"That is all I ask of any man. That is all any man can do. You should understand why I wish no disturbance. But, at the same time, let me warn you to watch Hop Anson closely--for your own benefit. If you have to do any shooting, well and good."
"I think I understand," said Tracy, as he walked out. At the door he paused and half-turned, as if to say something more. Already Frank was facing the little mirror on the wall, ready to resume his shaving. He stood exactly as he had stood when he shot at Anson, and his revolver lay on the shelf beneath the mirror.
Frank grew restless. On the day following the shooting of Anson he called Tracy and said:
"Tracy, I want you to keep your eyes open and be on your guard while I am away."
"Are you going away, sir?" asked the foreman.
"That is uncertain. I may return by night, and I may not be back for several days."
The foreman looked as if he wished to ask where Frank thought of going, but held himself in check.
"I wish to satisfy myself if any of my enemies are in this vicinity," said Merriwell. "I leave things in your hands here, and I believe I can trust you."
Merry attended to the saddling of his horse. When he rode forth from the mine he was well armed and prepared for almost anything. Behind him the roar of the ore-crushers died out, and he passed into the silence of the mountains.
Not an hour had passed when he was somewhat surprised to see before him from an elevated point a big, ball-like cloud of dark smoke rising into the sky.
"That's odd," was his immediate decision.
He stopped his horse and watched the smoke as it ascended and grew thinner. It was followed by another ball of smoke as he watched, and after this came still another.
Then Frank turned in the saddle, looking in various directions. Some miles behind him three distinct and separate clouds of smoke seemed to be mounting into the sky from another high elevation.
"If those are not smoke signals," said Frank, "I'm a chump! In that case, it's likely I'll have Indians to deal with if I keep on. Perhaps I'd better turn back."
For something told him that he was the object of those signals, and this was an Indian method of communication. He sat still for some time, watching the smoke fade in the upper air, which it did slowly. At last, however, it was gone, and the clear atmosphere held no black signal of danger.