“Don’t I?” interrupted the desperate lad with the revolver. “You’ll find I do! I’ve been jumped on by you fellows till I can’t stand any more of it! This is a case of self-defense, and I can prove it so. You attacked us! I have a right to defend my life!”
It was plain that Harlow was trying to convince himself that he was in the right, and, could he do so, hating Frank Merriwell as he did, it was certain that he might shoot on the slightest provocation.
Jack stood still; for the moment he knew not what to do.
“Come here, Diamond,” called Frank, sharply. “Come quick! Don’t mind that fellow! If he does any shooting, I won’t leave much of a job for the lynchers! I believe they string people up down in this State in a hurry!”
“Stand where you are, Diamond!” shouted Harlow.
But Jack obeyed Frank, and Harlow did not shoot.
“Now, hold this spy, and I will deal with that crook,” said Frank, turning the lad he had captured over to Jack.
As soon as he had done this, Merriwell started to walk straight toward Harlow, who still had him covered with the revolver.
“Stop!” shouted Rolf, fiercely; “stop! or by the Lord Harry, I will shoot!”
“Oh, no, you won’t,” answered Merriwell, with the utmost confidence, as he calmly continued to advance, apparently as unconcerned as if it were a toy pistol in the hand of his enemy.