Even as the boy placed an inspecting hand on the breast of Tyrus the eyes of the man opened and he heaved a sigh. The girl gave a cry of gratitude and relief. He turned on her a glance that made her tremble, and in his native tongue he began to mutter threats which sent her to her feet like a startled fawn.
“Don’t waste your sympathy on him,” advised Merriwell. “A man who can growl like that isn’t badly hurt. He’ll be all right in a short time.”
“Then—then he make me marree Maro!” she gasped. “I better die!”
“What are we going to do about it, pard?” asked Brad. “Whatever can we do to help her?”
“That’s a puzzling question,” admitted Dick. “Evidently this man is her guardian, and we’ll get into no end of trouble if we try to take her from him. She ought to be able to appeal to the proper authorities for protection.”
“Tak’ me to Charlee,” entreated the girl.
“Charlie?” exclaimed Dick. “Who in the world is Charlie?”
“I love heem!” she declared. “He grandes’ man in the world! He grandes’ man ever live! I marree Charlee!”
“Ah, ha! So that’s the way the wind blows?” cried Dick. “There is another man in the case, and that’s why old Tyrus is trying to force you to marry Maro?”
She nodded violently.