“Ye-he! ye-he! ye-he!” giggled Toots.
Higgins’ face was black with fury. He pointed a revolver straight at Frank, and thundered:
“You think you’re funny, but I’m going ter bore yer if you don’t talk up instanter! You know where that galoot Hodge is hid, and you’ll tell, too.”
“My dear sir,” returned Frank, as he folded his arms and looked the furious man fairly in the eyes, “I do not know where Bart Hodge is hidden, and I would not tell if I did.”
Higgins ground has teeth.
“Say yer prayers!” he grated. “I’m goin’ to make you the thirteenth!”
He was in deadly earnest, yet it did not seem that Frank quailed in the least before him. Indeed, in the face of such peril, Merriwell apparently grew bolder, and a scornful smile curled his lips.
“Shoot!” he cried, his voice ringing out clear and unshaken—“shoot and prove yourself a detestable coward!”
The other lads held their breath. They felt like interfering, but something in Frank’s manner seemed to warn them to keep still and not try to aid him.
“You think I won’t do it,” muttered Higgins. “Well, I’ll show ye! I always do exactly as I say. Now, you eat lead!”