“Say you so?” sneered Dan. “Well, now, we thinks a heap different.”
“What you think is a matter of indifference to me,” said Merry, looking the ruffian straight in the eyes.
“Whatever does you take us fer?” snarled the pox-marked fellow. “We’re no kids to be fooled with this yere way. You shakes us none whatever. If you tries it——”
“What then?” asked Merry, in a low tone.
“What then? Well, by the everlasting, I chaws you up! I flattens you out! There will be a funeral in Prescott to-morrow!”
“There may be,” said Frank; “but, if there is, you will be highly interested, and yet you will know nothing about it.”
Spotted Dan glared at Merry in his fiercest manner. It seemed to astonish him that the smooth-faced young man was not in the least awed by this fierceness.
“Look a here, Mr. Merriwell,” he said, “do yer know who yer dealing with in this yere piece of business?”
“From all appearances, I should say that I am dealing with a thoroughbred ruffian,” was the serene answer.
“Yer dealing with a bad man with a record, and don’t yer forget it,” snarled Dan. “My record is as long as my arm. And whar I goes I leaves graves in my footsteps. I adds to the population of the cemeteries.”