“He is all right,” said Mat.
The boy looked up at the two ruffians near him and then struggled to his elbow, his black eyes full of defiance.
“Give me a fair show and I’ll try it again!” he weakly exclaimed. “If I’d a fair show then I wouldn’t be here now. I was weaponless. You were three to one against me, and still you had to use a weapon to put me down and out.”
“Haw! haw! haw!” again roared Spotted Dan. “These yere Merriwells sure is fighters.”
Mat turned on him hotly.
“I reckon you found that out in Prescott the first time you met Frank Merriwell,” he said.
Dan suddenly stopped laughing and scowled blackly.
“Don’t git so personal!” he cried. “Mebbe I don’t like it any!”
Dick lifted his hand to his head and saw blood on his fingers when he looked at them. Then from his pocket he took a handkerchief, which he knotted about his head.
“Better put your bird back into the cage,” advised Dan. “Ef yer don’t, mebbe he flutters some more. When he flutters he is dangerous.”