Frank Merriwell's Pursuit Part 46

Still Lazaro was in appearance Del Norte grown old, his face time-furrowed, his black hair turned snowy white. More than that, for all of Lazaro's aged appearance, he had seemed to possess the vigor and vim of a very young man. His eyes burned with the fire of youth, and they were exactly like the eyes of Del Norte. His voice also was the voice of Del Norte.

Dusk was gathering in the streets of the great American metropolis, the street lights were beginning to gleam, laborers were homeward bound from their toil.

Quite unconscious of the fact, Merry had wandered into a disreputable quarter, and suddenly, without warning, he was set upon by a number of men. One of them struck at him, while another attempted to sandbag him from behind.

The attack in front caused Frank to dodge with a pantherish spring that was most astonis.h.i.+ng in its quickness, considering the fact that a moment before he had seemed totally unsuspicious and unprepared. This leap saved him from being stretched unconscious by the sandbag.

An instant later he was engaged in a hand-to-hand encounter with five thugs who had marked him as their prey. A well-dressed young man like Merry was sure to attract attention in such a quarter, and these ruffians had singled him out as a chap worth plucking.

His sudden and astounding change from total unwariness to a fighting youth with every sense on the alert was something for which they were unprepared.

He struck one fellow a terrible blow, which sounded clear as the crack of a pistol and sent the man turning end over end into the street, where he sprawled. He seized another by the left wrist with his own left hand, gave him a forward jerk to one side, at the same time striking him a swift, sharp blow with the outer edge of his open right hand, which landed on the fellow's neck just under the ear and turn of the jaw.

This man dropped like a stricken ox, and lay quivering on the broken curbing of the sidewalk.

Ducking low, one of the men attempted to seize Merry about the waist.

The young American athlete leaped backward, his foot came up, the toe of his boot struck the man under the chin, and over the ruffian went, flat on his back, his lips cut and bleeding, and choking over several teeth he had suddenly lost.

The street light at the corner sent a ray that gleamed on an uplifted knife.

With a squirming movement, Merry escaped the stroke, which cut a slit in his coat sleeve near the shoulder.

Then the man with the knife was seized, whirled round till his back was toward the youth attacked, and flung clean over Merry's head, striking on his head and shoulders on the flagging of the sidewalk.

The fifth thug paused in astounded hesitation. What sort of a chap was this who could dispose of four men with the rapidity of lightning, using only his bare hands? More than that, they had attacked him when he seemed quite unaware and unprepared, yet they had brought upon him not the slightest harm.

Frank's hand went toward his hip pocket.

With a yell, the fifth thug turned and ran for his very life, dodging into a dark alleyway.

From the opposite side of the street a strapping big man came hurrying toward Merry, crying:

"Give it to 'em! That's the stuff!"

Wondering if the fellow was another of the thugs, who might try to get at him, Merry held himself on the alert, ready for anything.

The dim light showed that the big fellow had a beardless, youthful face.

He was dressed plainly, but his appearance was not that of a ruffian.

He paused, thrust his hands into his pockets, and surveyed the fallen thugs, who were beginning to bestir themselves.

"Well," he said, with a laugh, "you certainly got away with that bunch in a hurry. I saw them jump on you and made tracks to give you a hand, expecting they would down you before I could get here. Instead of downing you, they went down so fast that they looked as if they were falling before a machine gun. Your style of fighting is much like that of a chap I knew at college. It's the goods."

"Thank you," said Merry. "But I wasn't expecting trouble, and I came near getting mine, all right."

"Eh?" cried the big fellow. "Your voice sounds familiar. It can't be that----"

He stepped nearer, peering into Merry's face.

Suddenly Frank recognized him.

"h.e.l.lo, Starbright!" he exclaimed, in delight.

"Frank Merriwell!" shouted the big fellow, leaping forward and grasping Merry's hand. "Oh, eternal miracles! Am I dreaming?"

Such a handshaking as it was! Here was d.i.c.k Starbright, the big Yale man, who had good cause to remember Frank with emotions of the deepest grat.i.tude and friendliness.

"What in the world are you doing here, Merry?" asked d.i.c.k.

"What in the world are you doing here?" was Frank's counter question.

"Why, I'm a newspaper reporter. Been digging up the facts in regard to the Poydras murder. That brought me into this quarter. Now you own up."

Frank explained as briefly as possible.

"Want these fellows?" questioned Starbright. "They're getting in condition to sneak."

Indeed, two of the thugs had "sneaked" already, having improved the opportunity while the attention of Merry and Starbright was wholly absorbed by the surprise of their unexpected meeting. Another fellow was on his feet, and he ran the moment he heard d.i.c.k's words. The fourth was on his hands and knees, apparently seeking strength to rise.

"I see no officer near," said Merry. "We might tackle a difficult job if we tried to drag even one of them along until we could find a cop."

"That's right. His pals would be down on us, a dozen of them, at least.

I fancy they'll let us alone now if we don't linger here. Let's sift along."

The last of the ruffians to rise to his feet staggered to the nearest wall, against which he leaned, gazing after the two young men who were walking away.

"Talk about choin-loightning!" he muttered. "It ain't in it wid dat cove! He coitinly done der whole gang, an' done dem good. He was sloidin' along in a trance when we went at him, but der way he come outer dat trance was a shock to der bunch. He's got more foight in him dan any ten blokes I ever seen before."

"I'm mighty glad I ran across you, Merry," said Starbright as they walked away. "You are just the fellow to straighten Morgan up and set him on the right track."

"Morgan?" questioned Frank.

"Yes, Dade Morgan. I can't seem to do anything with him, and he's fast getting in a bad way."

"Is he in New York?"

"Oh, yes; and it would be better for him if he was anywhere else."

"What's he doing here?"

"He isn't doing much of anything now, and that's one thing that is the trouble. You know what a proud, high-strung chap he always was. Well, he's up against it, and it has completely upset him."

"How is he up against it?"

"Why, he hit the pike pretty hard when he came here. He had some ready money, and he lived uptown at the Imperial. You know lots of sports and bloods hang out round that hotel. Dade fell in with some of the bunch.

He got some tips on the races and made a few thousand dollars. It was the worst thing that could have happened to him. Next he took a flyer in stocks, trading on margins. He made some more money. I tell you, he was flying high just about then. He thought he had the world by the scruff of the neck. You should have heard him when he ladled out the talk to me. Told me what a howling chump I was to plug away on a newspaper on s.p.a.ce. Offered to steer me right to coin money the way he was doing. I tell you, Merry, it was tempting. There he was rolling in boodle and living on the fat of the land, while I had a three-fifty hall bedroom and was eating round at cheap restaurants. Some weeks I made as much as twenty-five, and then I was rich; but perhaps the very next week it would be seven or eight, and before long I was poor again. Reporting on s.p.a.ce is a mighty hard mill to go through; but a man learns something at it."