“There they are!” said Inza, pointing at a trio of men who looked like sports and fighters. An instant later the stranger had walked straight up to the men, and then——
Smack! smack! smack!
Swift as thought, he slapped the faces of each one of them.
“Perhaps that will teach you to mind your own business and let a lady alone, even though she may not be accompanied by an escort!” he cried.
The men were astounded by this treatment, but they recovered quickly, and the leader—a big fellow with a heavy black mustache—made a jump and delivered a swinging blow at Inza’s companion, growling:
“Take that, you big stiff!”
But the stranger skilfully parried the blow, and gave the fellow one on the chin that sent him staggering.
The others, however, set on him both together, and both hit him, one succeeding in tripping him at the same time, which sent him to the sidewalk. Instantly one of the young ruffians lifted a foot to give the fallen man a kick.
About that time Frank Merriwell got into action, followed closely by Dick Starbright. Merriwell’s fist crashed on the jaw of the fellow who was on the point of kicking Inza’s protector. Down the man went, dropping like a log.
Starbright grasped the other fellow by the neck and shook him as a terrier shakes a rat.