Dick Merriwell's Pranks Part 49

There was silence in the tent when Bunol finished. That silence was broken by Merriwell, who spoke in a low, intense tone.

"You human fiend!"

Bunol's thin lips curled back and exposed his pointed, white teeth. He was smiling.

For a long time d.i.c.k Merriwell had controlled himself in a masterful manner, but now the aroused pa.s.sions of his fiery nature burst beyond suppression. Suddenly, and without the least warning, he flung himself on his enemy, whom he clutched by the throat before an outcry could be made.

Bunol was hurled flat on his back. d.i.c.k's thumbs bored into the Spaniard's throat. The knee of the American boy was planted on the breast of his foe, pinning the fellow to the mat.

"You devil!" hissed d.i.c.k in Bunol's ear. "You have said I have not the blood to kill any one, but when my hands leave your neck you will be dead!"

Bunol had goaded the boy to a point of fury that was close allied to madness.

The Spaniard was able to make no more than feeble resistance. Although he knew his peril and understood that Merriwell meant to kill him on the spot, he found himself nailed to the ground as if a stake had been driven through his body. His jaws opened, his tongue protruded, his eyes bulged from his head and his face turned purple.

"Die!" hissed d.i.c.k.

A black cloud fell on Bunol, and in his ears there was a thundering like the roar of Niagara.

Then the flap of the tent behind d.i.c.k was lifted. A man peered in. He uttered a shout. A moment later the tent was filled with men who seized Merriwell and tried to tear him from his enemy.

d.i.c.k's hands clung fast to Bunol's throat. The expression on his face was awful in its deadly determination. The men cried out that he would kill the Spaniard before their eyes.

Some one struck the American boy in the face several times, but still his grip did not loosen in the least.

At the tent door there was further commotion. Brad Buckhart was fighting to get in.

"Pard!" he cried-"pard, what's doing?"

d.i.c.k made no answer.

At last Bunol was wrenched from d.i.c.k's grip, one of the men having loosened the boy's fingers a bit. In tearing the Spaniard free, however, they did not prevent Merriwell's fingers from lacerating the fellow's neck.

d.i.c.k was carried out of the tent. He offered no resistance after his hold on his enemy was broken. They bound him, and flung him on the ground not far from where Buckhart lay, tied in a similar manner.

The Texan squirmed over toward d.i.c.k and tried to find out what had happened. Although he plied Merriwell with questions, not a word in reply could he get. d.i.c.k lay staring straight up at the sky, and the expression on his face awed and frightened Buckhart.

The old professor was likewise bound.

After a long time the flap of the tent was lifted and two Bedouins appeared, supporting between them the limp form of Miguel Bunol. The Spaniard was deathly pale, and one of his hands kept wandering to his lacerated and swollen throat. When his eyes fell on d.i.c.k Merriwell they shone like the eyes of a venomous serpent.

Bunol was led over to d.i.c.k, at whom he glared.

"You came-near-finis.h.i.+ng me," he said, in a husky whisper, as if every word gave him great distress; "but-but you-failed. Now it is-my turn."

He made a weak motion. Immediately several of the Bedouins seized Merriwell, unbound his hands, stripped off his clothing to the waist, and then tied him fast with his face to a heavy post set in the ground.

Two men with rawhide whips, each having many lashes, and the lashes being knotted full of bits of iron and lead, approached at a call from Ali Beha, who sat beneath an awning not far away.

Still supported, Bunol stepped before d.i.c.k.

"The revenge I promised you begins now!" he said. "But it shall be even worse than I intended. I care not if they whip you to death! I shall laugh at your shrieks and groans. Let them begin."

One of the men was speaking to Ali Beha. The chief rose and followed this man a little apart, where he stood gazing toward a distant ridge, over which hors.e.m.e.n were riding. These hors.e.m.e.n were coming straight toward the Bedouin camp.

Quickly the Bedouins gathered with their arms, ready to repel an attack, if necessary. They set up a shout, which was answered by the approaching hors.e.m.e.n. This answer seemed to relieve the Bedouins, for, instead of preparing for battle, they uttered cries of welcome.

For the time attention was turned from the captive at the post. d.i.c.k was hopeless, and he paid little heed to the strange hors.e.m.e.n. He was watching Bunol.

The Spaniard was impatient over the delay.

"More of the dirty Arabs," he muttered.

The leader of the strangers seemed to be a man of some distinction, for Ali Beha hastened to bow low before him, his manner most humble. This leader was an old man, yet he dismounted from his horse with some sprightliness and looked around. His eyes fell on the white youth, who was tied to the post, his bare body s.h.i.+ning in the sun.

"What is this, Ali Beha?" he demanded.

"Only a dog of a foreigner whom we are about to flog."

The stranger stepped quickly forward and obtained a look at d.i.c.k's face.

Instantly his manner underwent a change. He straightened to his full height, lifted his hand, and cried:

"Release him at once! He is my friend!"

"Ras al Had!" shouted d.i.c.k, in a burst of joy. "Oh, sheik, you came just in time!"

"I reached the camel train shortly after these men took you away," said the old Arab. "They told me you had been carried off by Ali Beha, and I made haste to look for him here, knowing this to be one of his favorite camping places. But why were they about to flog you?"

"None of your business, you meddling old fool!" snarled Bunol, giving Ras al Had a thrust.

Instantly several of the sheik's followers sprang on the Spaniard and bore him to the ground.

"Bind him," commanded Ras al Had.

They obeyed, in spite of Bunol's struggles and curses.

d.i.c.k was set free at the sheik's command, as also were Brad and the old professor.

Ras al Had listened to Merriwell's story, and a strange expression came to his wrinkled face as the boy told of his enemy's plan to have him flogged and then carried into slavery in Arabia.

Turning toward the Spaniard, the sheik grimly said:

"Strip him as this boy was stripped, bind him to the post and flog him, even as he ordered you to flog this boy, who is the bosom friend of Ras al Had."

Crying and begging like a frightened child, Miguel Bunol was stripped and tied to the post. Then the men with the rawhide whips began their work. The whips whistled through the air and fell on the Spaniard's bare back, bringing the blood with the first blow.

A shriek of pain came from Bunol's lips.

d.i.c.k could not endure much of this. After a little he implored the sheik to stop it.