The Fairchilds’ place was situated at the extreme limits of the city, and, as Merriwell passed through the residential section, he drove slowly in order to observe some of the houses and well-kept grounds along the street.
Suddenly he heard a stifled cry from the sidewalk, causing him to swerve in toward the curb and slow down to a crawl. The next moment he saw a young girl trying to free herself from the grasp of a man, and instantly he jammed on the brake and sprang out of the car.
“Let me go!” cried the girl. “Take your hands off me!”
Her face was flushed and her eyes wide with fright as she strove to shake the fellow’s hand from her arm. Then she caught sight of Dick.
“Oh!” she exclaimed quickly. “I’m so frightened. Won’t you please make him go away.”
Almost before the words were out of her mouth, the Yale man sprang forward and, catching the man’s wrist in a grip of iron, tore it from the girl’s arm and sent him reeling against the fence.
Then, to his amazement, he recognized the scowling face of Edgar Morrison, the Field Club pitcher.
“Curse you!” snarled the fellow, advancing with a threatening gesture. “Butting in again, are you? I’ll teach you to mind your own business!”
Dick laughed lightly.
“Come right along.” he said quietly. “I’m always ready to learn, even from a cur like you.”