Like a panther, Dick crossed the floor in one great bound and fell on Bunol, his fingers closing on the fellow’s windpipe.
Breathing hoarsely, Buckhart was on hand to render assistance.
“Great work, pard!” complimented the excited Texan. “He had me under his gun, and I couldn’t do a thing.”
He picked up Bunol’s pistol, which had dropped from the fellow’s fingers.
“This may add to our armament,” he observed. “We’re likely to need all the guns we can handle pretty soon.”
Dick had discovered by this time that there was no need to choke the Spaniard, for the paper weight had fixed the fellow so he would offer no resistance.
“Bring me the rope we found in the wardrobe yonder, Brad,” directed Merriwell, “and bring it quickly. We must tie this fellow up good and solid before he recovers.”
The other boy hastened to bring the rope.
“Looks like somebody used this for a trunk strap,” he observed. “Lucky they left it in the wardrobe.”
Dick directed Brad to cut the rope into pieces of certain length, and with these pieces he proceeded to tie Bunol in such a manner that it would be difficult for the fellow to do much more than wiggle a toe on recovering consciousness.