Humiliated and infuriated, Roy Swift left, swearing vengeance. As soon as he got back to the hotel, he took to drink. He seemed in a great hurry to fill himself with whisky, and as he grew intoxicated still wilder schemes began to revolve in his head.
“I’ll be even with Merriwell!” he vowed. “He shall not have her! I swear it!”
He was one of the kind that grow desperate as they become intoxicated. In a disgraceful condition, he hunted up Walter, who, as yet, knew nothing of the affair at Brander’s.
“Burrage,” said Swift, “I’m going to marry your sister!”
Walter looked at him a moment, and then said:
“Swift, you are disgustingly drunk. I advise you to get into a room and stay there till you sober off.”
“Don’t need your advice. I’m going to marry your sister. That is business. I swear by everything high and low that I will have her! Frank Merriwell shall not!”
Then he turned and made off.
That afternoon Inza left the house to go to the post-office. Within ten rods of the door she was startled to hear the hoof-beats of a horse behind her. Turning quickly, she saw Roy Swift, mounted on a bay horse, coming straight toward her, his face flushed and his eyes gleaming.
She tried to get out of the way, but she could not avoid him. She thought he meant to run her down and trample her beneath the feet of the horse, but he swerved aside, bent from the saddle, caught her up somehow, and flung her across the horse before him.