“Stop him!” exclaimed Merry. “Don’t let him fire on a man with a white flag!”
The old savage seemed greatly surprised and disappointed when he was prevented from shooting.
“When um Morgan man he is killed that stop all trouble,” said Joe. “Good chance to do it.”
“Watch him close, Dick,” directed Frank. “I am going out there to meet Morgan.”
“Let me go with you.”
“No; he’s alone. I will go alone. He is taking his chances. If anything happens to me, if one of those ruffians should fire on me, Morgan knows my friends here will shoot him down. Still, there may be some trick about it, and I want every one of you to watch close and be on the alert.”
“Depend on us, Frank,” said Dick. “Only I’m sorry you won’t let me go with you.”
A few moments later Merriwell strode out boldly from the rocks, with the white handkerchief still fluttering in his hand, advancing to meet Morgan, who was slowly coming forward.
They met in the centre of the open space near the little heap of bowlders. In grim silence, regarding his enemy with accusing eyes, Merry waited for Morgan to open the conversation.
“This is a very unfortunate affair, young man,” said the hypocritical money king. “I am sorry it has happened.”