“No,” she answered, her voice showing the least trace of agitation; “thanks to the brave action of this young stranger, I am not.”
At this the horseman scowled fiercely on Frank.
“Thanks to nothing!” he muttered. “I should have overtaken and stopped the skittish brute. If it hadn’t been for these smart youngsters on their confounded bicycles, the horses would not have been frightened.”
“I think you are mistaken about that, sir,” said Frank, promptly. “When we came in sight of you both horses were frightened, and you were abusing your own mount. I think you are entirely responsible for this runaway, and, if I were this young lady, I should be cautious about riding out with you again.”
“Insolent puppy,” grated the man. “How dare you talk to me like this! Why, I—I’ve a mind to——”
“I wouldn’t try it, sir!” came sharply from Merriwell, as the fellow lifted his whip. “You touched me with that back in the woods, and I do not care to have you repeat it.”
There was something in Frank’s manner that caused the man to lower the whip, boy in years though it was who faced him so boldly.
The girl stepped forward quickly.
“Stop, Cousin Stephen!” she cried. “This brave young man stopped Rex, and it may be that he saved my life. You should thank him instead of quarreling with him.”
“Thank him for nothing!” growled the man. “It’s a wonder he didn’t pitch you out of the saddle and kill you when he caught the horse by the bit and yanked its head around.”