Frank Merriwell's Triumph Part 27

"There may be," said Frank; "but, if there is, you will be highly interested, and yet you will know nothing about it."

Spotted Dan glared at Merry in his fiercest manner. It seemed to astonish him that the smooth-faced young man was not in the least awed by this fierceness.

"Look a here, Mr. Merriwell," he said, "do yer know who yer dealing with in this yere piece of business?"

"From all appearances, I should say that I am dealing with a thoroughbred ruffian," was the serene answer.

"Yer dealing with a bad man with a record, and don't yer forget it,"

snarled Dan. "My record is as long as my arm. And whar I goes I leaves graves in my footsteps. I adds to the population of the cemeteries."

"You're plainly a big bluffer and a blowhard," said Frank.

Then, as Spotted Dan made a suspicious movement, quick as a flash of light a pistol appeared in Merriwell's hand.

"Don't try to pull a gun on me, you big duffer!" exclaimed the youth.

"If you do, I will run a couple of tunnels in you."

"Correct in the most minute particular," chipped in Cap'n Wiley. "He will do it scientifically and skillfully. When it comes to shooting, he is a shooter from Shooterville. Say, you oughter see him shoot out a pigeon's eye at four thousand yards! Why, he can shoot with his feet better than any man in this bunch! At the same time I happen to be provided with a couple of large-bore fowling pieces, and I shall feel it my duty to shed real gore in case any of you other gents take a notion to chip in to this little circus."

While speaking the sailor had produced a pair of Colt's revolvers, which he now flourished with reckless abandon.

"Oh, that is the way yer does it, is it?" sneered Spotted Dan. "Mebbe yer thinks this settles it. Well, wait and see. You has the drop now; but our turn comes. It's a good thing fer you, young feller," he declared, still glaring at Frank, "that I don't git my paws on yer. Ef I'd ever hit yer a crack with my maul you would sprout wings instanter.

Sometimes I gits at yer, tenderfoot, and I hammers yer all up."

"You think you will," retorted Merry. "You might find yourself up against a snag."

"Waal, ef I can't knock you stiff in less than one minute, I'll take to my hole and stay thar for a year."

"I presume you would consider this engagement ended in case you fail to put me down and out in short order?" said Merry. "If you were the one whipped, you would call all dealings off?"

"Sartin sure. I'd be so ashamed of myself I'd never look a dog in the face again."

"Give your weapons to one of your pards there," directed Merry. "I will pa.s.s mine to Wiley, and I'll agree to take off my coat and give you a chance to do me up right here."

"I think I smell smoke," murmured the sailor, sniffing the air. "I think I smell fire and brimstone. I think there will be doings around here directly."

"Whoop!" cried Spotted Dan. "It's a go! Say, I makes you look like a piece of fresh beefsteak in just about two shakes."

Then he turned to one of his companions and handed over a pistol and knife. He wore no coat, and when he had cast his old hat on the floor and thrust back his sleeves, exposing his brawny, hairy arms, he declared he was ready.

The barkeeper had remonstrated. Merry was known in Prescott, and to the man behind the bar he said:

"Whatever damage is done I will pay for. I will set 'em up for every one who comes in for the next hour besides."

Then he placed his revolver on the bar and coolly drew off his coat, which he lay beside the pistol.

"Keep your ellipticals parabolically peeled," warned Cap'n Wiley. "The gent with the dented countenance looks like a Peruvian dog. I don't know as there is a Peruvian dog, but I judge so, because I have heard of Peruvian bark."

Merry said nothing. His face was calm and grim as he thrust back the sleeves of his woolen s.h.i.+rt. He had a handsome forearm, finely developed and finely moulded, with the flesh firm and hard and the supple muscles showing beneath the silken skin.

"Come on!" cried Spotted Dan eagerly. "Step right out yere and git yer medicine."

The ruffian's friends were chuckling and muttering among themselves.

"Dan paralyzes him the first time he hits him," declared one.

"You bet your boots he does!" put in another.

"I seen him break Bill G.o.ddard's neck with a blow down in Buckeye," said a third.

Frank removed his wide-brimmed hat and laid it on the bar, tossing back his head with a slight shaking motion to fling a lock of hair out of his eyes. Then he suddenly advanced to meet his antagonist, his arms hanging straight at his sides and his hands open. It seemed as if he invited annihilation, and Spotted Dan improved the occasion by making a strong swinging blow with his huge fist, aiming straight at the face of the fearless youth.

Quick as a flash of light, Merry ducked just the slightest and tipped his head to one side.

Dan's fist shot over Frank's shoulder. With a quick movement of his foot, Merriwell struck the ruffian's feet from beneath him, and the giant crashed to the floor so heavily that the gla.s.ses and bottles rattled on the shelves behind the bar.

With a roar of surprise, Spotted Dan made a spring and landed on his feet. Before him stood Merriwell, still with his hands hanging at his sides, regarding him with just the faintest suggestion of an amused smile. That smile was enough to infuriate the bruiser beyond description.

"Dodges, does yer!" snarled the man. "Well, dodge this if yer ken!"

Again he struck, and again Merry escaped by simply tipping his head like a flash over upon his shoulder and crouching the least bit. He did not lift a hand to ward off the blow. Like a panther he leaped to one side, and his outstretched toe caught his enemy's ankle as the force of that blow, wasted on the empty air, sent Dan staggering forward. A second time the fellow went cras.h.i.+ng to the floor. A second time he sprang up with amazing agility for one so huge and ponderous.

"Whatever kind of fighting does yer call this?" he shouted, in a rage.

"Why don't yer stand up like a man and fight? Is that all yer can do?

Does yer know nothing else but jest ter dodge?"

"You're too easy," declared Frank. "I hate to hurt you--really I do. It seems a shame."

"Yah!" shouted the infuriated man. "You would hurt n.o.body if yer hit um."

"I beg you to pause a moment, Daniel," put in Wiley. "Have you made your will? If not, I entreat you to do so. If he ever hits you--oh, luddy, luddy! you'll think you've been kicked by a can of dynamite."

The ruffian's companions had been astonished by the ease with which Merriwell escaped Dan's blows; but they, too, believed the fight would quickly end if Merry stood up and met his enemy.

Spotted Dan slyly edged around Frank, seeking to force him into a corner. Apparently without suspecting the fellow's object, Merry permitted himself to be driven back just as Dan seemed to desire.

Getting the young mine owner cornered, as he thought, the bruiser quickly advanced, seeking now to seize him with one hand, while the other hand was drawn back and clinched, ready for another terrible blow.

With a snapping movement, Frank clutched the wrist of Dan's outstretched arm. There was a sudden twist and a whirl, and although the ruffian struck with all his force, he felt his shoulder wrenched in the socket and knew he had missed even as he delivered the blow. That twisting movement turned the fellow about and brought his arm up behind him on his back. Then Merry sent him forward with a well-directed and vigorous kick.

"It is too easy!" sighed Cap'n Wiley, sadly shaking his head. "It isn't even interesting. I fancied possibly there might be some excitement in the affair, but I am growing sleepy, and I fear I shall miss the finish while I take a nap."

Spotted Dan was astonished now. Never had he encountered any one who fought in such a singular manner, and he could not understand it. Just when he felt certain that he had the youth where he wanted him, Merry would thwart his design and trip him, or, with the utmost ease, send him staggering.

"Dern yer! What makes yer fight with yer feet?" rasped the ruffian.

"That ain't no way whatever ter fight. Fight with yer fists on the squar, and I will annihilate yer."

"I don't believe that anything was said about the style of fighting,"

retorted Merry pleasantly. "However, if you don't like my methods I will agree not to use my feet any more."