“Let’s sift in and take part in that,” breathed Hodge eagerly.
“Wait,” advised Frank. “I want to see what that black-whiskered fellow will try to do, and I also wish to see how Dick handles himself.”
The big sporting man was angered by the words of the ready-tongued youngster, and he growled:
“You’re an insolent brat, and you need to be taught a lesson!”
“I scarcely think it would be to my advantage to have you for an instructor,” returned the lad. “Anything I’d learn of you would be an injury to me.”
Now, “Black” Elrich had killed his man, and was generally respected and feared by the dangerous element of the town, and it was a novel experience for him to have anybody fearlessly face him and talk to him in such a manner.
“I’d begin by wringing your neck!” he asserted. “It’s just what you deserve!”
“And I’d shoot you so full of holes that you’d make a first-class sieve, which would be just what you deserve,” retorted Dick Merriwell, his cheeks burning.
“If you were a man——”
“Don’t let that bother you, mister. I can take care of myself. Keep your hands out of sight, or I may think you’re reaching for a shooting-iron, in which case I shall not hesitate to break your elbow with a bullet.”