“No, ye don’t!” came in the roaring voice of Bill Higgins, the cowboy. “Fair play’s a jewel, and I’m the jeweler that sees ’t gits a proper settin’, b’jing!”
Santenel knew that voice only too well. He had met Higgins while posing as the Hindu juggler, and knew that Higgins was the friend of Merriwell. Visions of a capture and unpleasant interview with Frank, and other disagreeable consequences, flashed through his mind. The club had been torn from his hand, and he was weaponless. So, without stopping to further take the part of Dade Morgan, who was struggling to his feet, Santenel hurried off and disappeared behind the trees, Higgins looking after him, as if he did not know whether to follow and rope him or let him get away.
Dade rose to his feet, his face distorted with anger, pain, and baffled hate. He dared not again face the fist of Dick Starbright.
“I don’t care to fight you further, when you’ve got help!” he sneered, his words trembling and his whole form shaking. “But I’ll settle with you yet, Starbright!”
“Any time!” said Dick, pulling down his sleeves. “I’ve more where that came from!”
Though his head was throbbing and he felt a trickle of blood on his face, caused by the blow of the club, he stood erect again, firmly facing Dade Morgan.
“I’ll settle with you for this!” Morgan slowly repeated, as if his brain were in a whirl and his mind still incoherent. Then he flung the cowboy a look of hate and disdain, and walked away in the direction taken by Santenel.
“Who was that there feller? The one that hit ye with the club?” asked Higgins, staring in the direction Dade was taking. “I ’low I was a fool to let him go.”
It was a question that Dick could not answer.