Around the hall men and girls were standing against the wall, with their feet on the bench, watching the fight. Not a few of them had witnessed a fight at a country dance before that, but this one was a revelation, for they saw two beardless lads whipping two men who seemed able to eat the boys, and who had the reputation of having cleaned out a dozen men.
The fight between Merriwell and the big man was fully as fierce as the one between Diamond and the Canadian. Frank took care not to let the ruffian get hold of him. He dodged under the man’s outstretched arms, hitting him in the wind till the big fellow was doubled up. Then Frank forced the man back. When they were about ten feet from the door that opened out upon the stairs, Frank struck the ruffian a fearful blow, sending him staggering back and back till he passed out through the door and went crashing to the bottom of the stairs, landing on the Canadian, who lay there groaning.
Some men went down and found both men at the foot of the stairs, completely knocked out. Then they were carried away.
The news was brought back into the hall, and Merriwell and Diamond were surrounded by an admiring crowd. All the men wished to shake hands with the wonderful fighters, while some of the girls actually expressed a desire to hug them.
“Do you know who you whipped, young man?” asked one of the male witnesses.
“I know I did my best to whip a big brute,” answered Frank, quietly.
“Well, that big brute, as you call him, has the reputation of being the worst man on the Penobscot. Why, he’s Mike Sullivan, and he’s known from the Allaguash to Bangor.”
“Mike Sullivan!” exclaimed Frank. “Isn’t he a river driver?”
“He is; and he’s boss of a crew that’s comin’ down the river with a drive. He came on ahead to be at this dance.”