“Now,” said the cowboy, “we’ll ondress ther gent.”
“Wait a minute,” said Frank. “I have a few words to say to you before you begin your dirty work.”
“Speak lively, fer we ain’t got no time ter waste. All the same, ye may as well spare yer breath, fer nothin’ you kin say will make any difference.”
“I do not expect it will, but I wish to make you a little promise, Mr. Hooker. It is this: If you adorn me with a coat of tar and feathers, I promise you that I will make you regret the day you ever saw me. I promise you I will make you weary of life! I will not rest in carrying out my promise. I will hound you down, and I’ll make you such an object of scorn and contempt that you will long for death! I swear it!”
This vow had no effect on the men.
“Go ahead!” cried Sam Hooker. “You’ve made me ther laughin’ stock o’ Carrolton now, an’ I’m bound ter git even with yer! Now, we’ll strip him, Joe.”
“Stop!”
Through the door bounded a girl. With all her strength she pushed Sam Hooker aside. Over Frank Merriwell she stood, with a hardwood baseball bat raised aloft.
“I’ll brain the first man who touches him!” she almost screamed.
It was Daisy Blaney!