“Oh, no, you don’t want a quarrel! I know that! But I think I’ll cut you across the face a few times with my whip, just so you will remember me.”
“Stop! Don’t force me to give you a drubbing now, for I have just come from my mother’s grave, and—I——”
“If your mother was like you——” The fellow got no further.
Releasing the horse, Frank sprang like a tiger upon him, caught him by the collar till Dyke choked and grew purple, then swiftly said:
“Take it back! You may insult me, but your lips shall not breathe a word about my mother! Take it back—quick!”
There was a look in Merry’s eyes that frightened Dyke as he had never been frightened before. Before he realized it, he was cowering and whimpering:
“I didn’t mean to say anything against your mother—honest, I didn’t. I spoke before I thought. Of course I wouldn’t say anything against anybody that is dead! Don’t! You choke!”
“You are not worth thrashing!” said Frank, in contempt. “But have a care! It is well you found me in my present mood, or I would not have let you off so easy. Go!”
He released the fellow and walked away, not once turning his head to see what Conrad was doing.
When Frank reached the house he found the place in confusion. The nurse had been driven from the professor’s room by the raving man, and she said he had a revolver, with which he said he was hunting for Horace Scotch, whom he would shoot on sight.