On the ground near his feet he saw a jackknife, and he stooped to pick it up. As he bent over something came whizzing through the air and struck him on the side of the head. It was a heavy stone, and Dick fell senseless to the ground.
As the stricken boy lay there the bushes were parted and a pair of eyes peered out at him. They were set in a pale, wrathful face, and the voice of Arlington muttered:
“Soaked you that time!”
Then, as Dick continued to remain motionless, Chester came creeping from the bushes and hesitatingly approached him.
“Hit him plumb on the head,” he said. “That was a big stone, too. By George! perhaps I cracked his skull!”
Drawing a little nearer and feeling a quiver of apprehension run over him, Chester bent and turned the prostrate lad upon his back. As he did so he saw a streak of blood across Merriwell’s temple.
A gasp came from the lips of the young scoundrel and he straightened up.
“Heavens!” he muttered, “I believe I have fixed him! Must have hit him fairly on the temple. If I did he’s dead, that’s all!”
Fear grew upon him as he stared at the pallid face of the unconscious lad. Bending over, he placed his hand on Dick’s breast. With a cry he started back.
“He’s dead!” he whispered. “I have killed him! Good Lord! what a scrape!”