But, before they could interfere, Frank broke the hold of his enemy, forced him back and struck him a terrible blow between the eyes felling him instantly.
Merriwell stood over Harris, his hands clenched his eyes gleaming.
"Get up!" he cried. "Get up you dog! I can't strike you when you are down, and I'd give a hundred dollars to hit you just once more!"
But Harris did not get up. He realized that his second attempt had failed, and he stood in awe of Frank's terrible fists. He looked up at those gleaming eyes, and turned away quickly, feeling a sudden great fear.
Did Frank Merriwell bear a charmed life?
Surely it seemed that way to Harris just then. For the first time, perhaps, the young rascal began to believe that it was not possible to harm the lad he hated with all the intensity of his nature.
The engineer and his assistants grabbed Harris and held him, the former swearing savagely. They dragged the fellow to his feet, but warned him to stand still.
Harris did so. For the moment, at least, he was completely cowed.
A man was sent for the captain, with instructions to tell him just what occurred. Of course the captain of the steamer was the only person who could order one of the men placed in irons.
The captain came in in a little while, and he listened in great amazement to the story of what had taken place. His face was hard and grim. He asked Frank a few questions, and then he ordered that Harris be ironed and confined in the hold.