Frank Merriwell's Own Company; Or, Barnstorming in the Middle West

by Burt L. Standish

"Get out!" snarled Havener, and the hammer of the self-acting revolver quivered under the pressure of his finger on the trigger. "Stand aside!"

"No!"

"Stand aside!"

"You shall not shoot!"

"Stand aside, or by the living gods! I'll shoot through you to reach him!"

"You will do nothing of the kind!"

Straight up to the muzzle of the revolver Frank walked. Then he grasped the man's hand, thrust it aside, and tried to take the weapon from him.

For a moment Ross Havener seemed dazed by Merriwell's nerve, and then, uttering a furious cry, he struggled to retain the revolver and get a shot at Sargent.

Crack!—the weapon was discharged, but the bullet tore harmlessly through the partition and buried itself in the wall of another room.