“Excuse the slip.”
Frank forced the man off with his left hand, and then struck him with his right. It was too close, however, for the blow to be effective, and it simply seemed to sting the fellow to greater fury.
Now the unknown began to exhaust himself with his furious efforts to beat Frank down and conquer him. He panted and snarled, but Merry was his match.
Frank was waiting till the time when he could go at the man and do him up. He could see his enemy was exhausting his wind in frantic struggles to win at once.
Thus the battle continued till Merry heard a great splash in the water of the cove, and, a moment later, a man came rushing to the assistance of Frank’s foe.
“I’ve fixed t’other feller!” palpitated the man.
“Then get in and give me a lift!” growled the one who was trying to conquer Merry. “This chap is the Old Nick!”
Frank knew now that he was fighting against desperate odds. They were two against him, and they were determined to destroy him.
The thought that Bart had met with his end infuriated Merriwell. He had heard the splash in the water, and his imagination pictured Hodge flung down from the rocks, stabbed through the heart. Perhaps the water was stained at that moment with the lifeblood of poor Hodge.
Smack!—Frank got in a swinging blow that sent one of the men staggering backward to fall to the ground.