“You bet your boots!” and the other’s eyes lighted up. “She didn’t want me to quit Fardale, of course. But it was the only chance there was, and she had to give in at last.”
“Well, the place isn’t lost yet, so brace up,” advised Merriwell.
By the time they had finished this heart-to-heart talk, they were at the outskirts of the town, and nearing the McQuade home. Billy pointed out a large white house set in from the road as the Carson residence.
They had just passed this point, when, from a bend in the road, came a shrill cry in a boyish voice. An instant later they sighted two figures. One was that of a rather small young fellow, crouching; over him stood a tall, heavy-set figure, striking at the smaller chap, and paying no attention to his cries for mercy.
“My eye!” cried Billy Mac hotly. “Trail along, Chip. I’ll give that brute something else to think of!”
And Billy broke into a run, with a yell of anger.
CHAPTER III.
LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON.
“Hel-l-lup!”
At sight of Chip Merriwell and Billy Mac, the smaller of the two figures uttered a shrill appeal. As the bully straightened up, the little fellow writhed away and danced over to the side of the road.