Now, it was not Frank’s nature to stand idly by and see two men jump on a third who was helpless and do him up. Without a moment’s hesitation, Merry leaped from the steps and rushed upon those men. A heavy blow sent one of them to the ground.
The other had stooped above the fallen man when Frank’s toe precipitated him headlong and caused him to roll over and over in the dust.
At the same time Merriwell drew a pistol.
“Get up and sneak, both of you!” he ordered. “If you linger, I will blow a window in each of you!”
Muttering oaths, the ruffians rose, but the look they saw in Frank’s face caused them to decide that the best thing they could do would be to obey.
“It’s none of your funeral!” cried one, as he grasped the bridle rein of his horse.
“But it will be yours if you linger here ten seconds!” retorted Merry. “Git! If you value your skins, don’t even turn to look back until you are out of shooting distance.”
As the baffled ruffians were retreating, the fugitive sat up, slowly recovering from his shock.
“Thank you, pard,” he said. “It was mighty lucky for me you pitched in just as you did. But for you, they had me dead to rights, and I opine they would have finished me.”
“What is it all about?” questioned Merry.