Frank made no retort to these insolent words, but his jaws squared a bit and there came to his eyes a look which the fellow would have known was dangerous had he been better acquainted with Merry.
The local stage hand fancied he had settled the matter by giving the presumptuous “property man” a call down, and he now went at the scenery again, smashing at the cleats with the hammer.
He did not strike more than a single blow, for, with a spring, Frank had him by the collar.
In a moment, Merry took the hammer from the surprised chap’s hand, and flung it far away.
“Here! what the——”
The fellow whirled about and struck at Frank, but he was sent spinning to one side, to fall sprawling over some properties.
“Don’t try it again,” calmly advised Merry.
The astounded stage hand scrambled up, snarling with anger.
“I’m Joe Hooker!” he cried. “And I can do up anything in this town. I’ll have to smash ye for that!”
“If you know what is real healthy for you, Joe Hooker,” said Frank, with a grim smile, “you’ll keep your distance and let this scenery alone. You’re too fresh.”