Chester languidly lighted a fresh cigarette.
“Sorry, Savage,” he drawled, “but I didn’t bring them with me.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
“You agreed to—you promised! Confound you, Arlington! are you tricking me? You won my money from me, and I gave you those papers when you continued to stick me. You knew I had sworn off gambling when you coaxed me into it. You knew my father had said he’d disown me if I played cards any more. And so, when you found your opportunity, you made me play into your hands. At the meeting you sent word that you would forward those I O U’s to my father if I did not withdraw and do my best to give you my vote. If I did so, you would give them over to me. You have not kept your word to give them up. You promised to do so to-night if I would meet you here. Now, do you mean to keep your promise?”
“No,” answered Chester coldly.
The next moment Savage had Arlington by the throat and was choking him. Kennedy sprang up, caught the bottle and struck Savage over the head, dropping him to the floor. Then Dick Merriwell smashed the window, burst the shutters open, and went into that room. But the rascals did not wait for him. With the first crash of breaking glass, they leaped toward the door, through which they disappeared.
Dick lifted Savage, whose head was cut and bleeding. Buckhart followed Dick into the room by the window, and was on hand when the proprietor of the saloon came hurrying in.
“What’s happened here?” asked the man who ran the place.
“Where are those fellows who were here?” demanded Dick, who was tying a handkerchief about Savage’s bleeding head.