Dick Merriwell Abroad Part 35

CHAPTER XIX.

THE BURSTING OF THE DOOR.

Plainly the door was being attacked by heavy instruments for the purpose of battering it down. Again Teresa clutched her brother and clung to him.

"Little sister, little sister," he said, "if you cling to me so, how shall I defend myself?"

"I cannot lose you, Reggio!" she sobbed. "It is wicked! They shall not kill you!"

He implored her to release him.

"Let me go down and meet them," he said. "If they come here to do the deed, then, in order to leave no living witnesses, they may destroy you and these good American friends who have promised to help you reach Antonio Melino."

"Do you think the a.s.sa.s.sins have come to do the work?" asked d.i.c.k, his black eyes gleaming.

"I think so."

"Then give us weapons! Let's stand together! We can thin out this dastardly gang somewhat before they can do the job!"

"That's the talk, pard!" shouted Buckhart. "Whoop! If we were supplied with shooting irons, we'd sure come pretty near wiping the old Ten off the map to-night. Give us something-anything! We'll make a hole in the bunch! You hear me warble?"

"It is madness!" exclaimed the gondolier, as the blows continued to resound. "It means the death of all! Flee with Teresa! For her sake--"

Brad had been looking around. The room was rather poorly furnished. At one side sat a rude wooden table. This the Texan seized, turning it bottom up in a twinkling. Planting his foot upon it, the Texan grasped a leg of the table and gave it a mighty wrench, literally twisting it off.

This leg he flourished over his head.

"Here's my war club, pard!" he shouted. "I opine I can crack a head with that."

d.i.c.k followed Brad's example, and in a moment or two he had torn off another leg of the table.

Reggio looked on in wonderment. He could not understand why these American boys should sacrifice their lives for him. Never before in all his life had he seen boys like these.

Teresa clasped her hands and gazed at them also, her eyes kindling with unspeakable admiration.

Crash! crash! crash! sounded the heavy blows.

The door was falling.

Suddenly Reggio awoke. His bloodstained knife appeared once more in his hand, and he flourished it above his head.

"Let them come, then!" he cried. "If we all die, we'll do what we can to destroy the Ten who have a hundred poor Venetians beneath their feet!"

"That's the talk!" said d.i.c.k, whose face was flushed and whose eyes gleamed, "To the stairs, Reggio! Let Teresa hold the light, that we may see. There will be some broken heads before they do the job they have blocked out."

"Talk about Texas!" burst from Brad. "Why, Texas is a Sunday-school picnic all the time compared with Venice! The wild and woolly West won't seem half so wild and woolly to me if I ever get back to it."

Teresa was brave. She caught up the candle, and said she was ready. As they hurried from the room to the stairs, the door fell with a sound of splintered wood.

"Just in time!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, hearing many voices and the sound of feet at the foot of the stairs.

They reached the head of the flight. Teresa was close at hand, and she held the candle as high as she could reach, in order that its light might shine down those stairs.

At the bottom of the flight were a number of men-not less than six or seven. They paused as the light revealed them.

Reggio Tortora gave a shout of astonishment.

"They are not the Ten!" he declared. "The Ten are always in cloaks and hoods."

"Then who are they?" questioned d.i.c.k.

"Bravos, desperadoes of the city-men who rob and murder! They have been sent by the Ten, for--"

He stopped, catching his breath. Among those men, and at the head of them, he saw a man whose clothing still hung dripping damp upon his limbs. This man's jacket was gone, and about his shoulder were many bandages. His arm was bound in a bent position to his side.

"Mullura!" gasped Reggie. "He still lives!"

"You're right!" savagely retorted the leader of the bravos. "I still live, and I'll yet have Teresa for my own! You shall die the death of a dog!"

"This is a whole lot interesting!" observed Brad Buckhart.

At this point Teresa produced a slender dagger, which she held aloft, crying down the stairs:

"Ere you put your hands on me, Nicola Mullura, I'll plunge this into my heart! It is my dead body you may obtain-no more!"

For a moment Mullura seemed taken aback. Then he forced a laugh, sneering:

"Very finely spoken, but your courage will not take you that far, beautiful Teresa. You'll not be so foolish. I'll take you with me to America, where I am a great man, and you shall be my wife. If your brother agrees to this, I will not lift my hand against him, even though he so nearly destroyed me to-night. Come, my Reggio, what say you?"

"Teresa, it is for you to answer," said the gondolier.

"Then I will answer!" she exclaimed, her dark eyes flashing fire. "Not if he were king of all America would I consent!"

"You have had your answer, Nicola Mullura!" cried Reggio, in satisfaction.

"And it seemed good and hot," chuckled Buckhart.

"Have it as you like!" snarled Mullura. "These men will soon overpower you. Your resistance will simply make them all the more furious."

"Let them come on," said Tortora; "but see that you come at their front.

My knife found your shoulder a while ago. Next time, if the saints are with me, it shall find your black heart!"

"They are going to rush in a moment, Brad!" breathed d.i.c.k. "They are getting ready."

"I'm ready, too," declared the undaunted Texan. "I'll guarantee that I'll crack one head, at least, with this table leg!"

d.i.c.k was right. Mullura spoke to his companions in low tones. They gathered themselves, and with a yell, they came charging up the stairs.