"The White Wings sails at nine o'clock," said Frank, turning away.
Flynn's face, that had been so pale, flushed and turned purple with anger. All at once, he lifted his walking stick to bring it down on Merry's head.
A cry from the boys on the yacht warned Merriwell, who ducked and dodged—just in time.
Whizz!—the cane cut through the air, but Merry was not touched.
Quick as thought, Frank turned and grappled with Parker Flynn. He wrenched away the cane, and, with a quick motion, broke it across his knee. Then, as he coolly tossed it into the water, he said:
"If you try any more funny business, sir, you'll follow your cane."
"Oh, I'll fix you!" Flynn almost screamed. "I'll get a warrant for you! I'll be back in a hurry! Don't dare leave before I return!"
He dashed away on the run.
"I told you you would have bad luck," said the truckman. "It's begun."