“I have nothing to tell,” replied the boy, “except this: I have friends close at hand, and they ought to be here now.”
“Then I will have this business over before they arrive.”
“Come on, and I will show you what a Mortimer is made of.”
Before the words of defiance had fairly left the boy’s lips, Smirker bounded forward, and the two closed in a death struggle.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE SPECTERS OF THE CAVE.
THE FIGHT was of longer duration and was much more desperate than one would suppose it could have been, considering the immense advantage which Smirker possessed over his wiry antagonist in weight and muscle; but of course it could end in but one way. White-horse Fred, bruised and exhausted, was borne to the ground at last, with the man’s knee on his breast and his brawny hand at his throat.