Frank Merriwell's Races

by Burt L. Standish

"Mob the wretch!"

"Thump him!"

"Choke him!"

"Don't let him get away!"

These cries broke from the crowd of lads, who strove in mad haste to get at the stranger.

"Great Christopher!" gasped Tom Thornton, in ter

ror. "I'm going to get out of this! It's altogether too hot for me!"

Then he tried to slip away.

Flemming did not know what to do. The manner of the angry lads was alarming, and he saw no reason why he should defend a man who was quite unknown to him.

But the stranger did not wait to be defended. With a wild shout, that was like the war whoop of an Indian, he leaped up and lunged straight into the crowd, striking out right and left.