"Well, your behavior looked remarkably bloodthirsty. You seemed on the point of drawing the knife across his throat. That was enough for me. You may go, Tracy, but you are to let Pablo alone in the future."
"If he insults me——"
"Report to me; I'll make him apologize. Go."
Tracy seemed to wish to linger to argue over the matter, but the look in Merriwell's eyes forbade it, and he picked up the knife and slouched sullenly away.
"I hope he did not hurt you much," said Frank, lifting Pablo's hat to see the bruise made by the ruffian's fist.
With a cry, the boy grasped his hat and pulled it down upon his head.
But Frank had made a most surprising discovery, and it was enough to give Merry something to meditate over.
He decided that the boy must be closely watched, and he longed for the presence of old Joe Crowfoot, than whom no one was more fitted to such a task.
But the outlaws had averred that old Joe was "food for buzzards," and the protracted absence of the redskin[Pg 149] led Merry to fear that he had looked into the Indian's beady eyes for the last time.
Frank spoke to no one of his discovery. As far as possible, he kept his eyes on Pablo, as if he believed the boy meditated treachery of some sort.