Frank Merriwell's Alarm Part 18

To the left was a dark and narrow street, which looked rather forbidding and dangerous.

"I believe the cry came from this street," said Frank, to himself. "If there were a few lights----"

"Help!"

There could be no mistake this time; the cry did come from that street. A short distance away in the darkness a struggle seemed to be going on. Frank could hear the sound of blows, hoa.r.s.e breathing, muttered exclamations and cries of pain.

"Some fellow is being done up there!" thought the boy from Yale.

Without further hesitation he ran toward the point from which the sounds seemed to come.

In a moment Frank was close upon two dark forms that were battling fiercely on the ground. He could see them indistinctly in the darkness.

"Ah-h-h, you little whelp!" snarled a harsh voice "So ye will run away, hey? Well, ye'll never run away no more after this!"

"Oh, please, please don't beat me so!" pleaded a weak voice. "You--you are killing me! Oh! oh! oh!"

"I'll make ye 'oh, oh, oh!'" grated the other.

Then the blows fell thick and fast.

"Here, you miserable brute!" rang out the clear voice of Frank. "You ought to be shot!"

Then he grasped the figure that was uppermost and attempted to drag him off the other.

To Frank's surprise, although the attack had been sudden, he did not succeed in s.n.a.t.c.hing the a.s.sailant from the unfortunate person he was beating.

"Get out!" roared a bull-like voice. "Lemme alone, or I'll cut yer hide open! This is none of your business!"

"Help, sir--help!" cried the weak voice. "He has beaten me nearly to death! He will kill me!"

"Ye oughter be killed, ye ungrateful little whelp!"

"Break away!" commanded Frank, as he lifted them both by a wonderful outlay of strength and literally tore them apart.

The one who had been a.s.sailed could not keep on his feet, but swayed weakly and sank to the ground.

With a sound that was like the snarl of a ferocious beast, the other grappled with Frank. He was so short that he stood not much higher than Frank's waist, but his shoulders were wonderfully broad, and he had arms that were almost long enough to reach the ground when he was on his feet.

"Great heavens!" thought Merriwell. "What is this I have run against?

Is it a human gorilla?"

And then he found that the creature possessed marvelous strength, for Frank was literally lifted off his feet and flung prostrate, the other coming down upon him.

The fall came about so suddenly that Frank was dazed, and his breath was nearly knocked out of his body. For a moment he did nothing, and the creature scrambled up and grasped the fallen lad by the throat with hands that were like iron.

"Bother with me, will ye!" snarled that beastlike voice. "I'll fix ye so ye won't do it no more!"

Frank felt that he was in deadly peril, and that caused him to clutch the man's wrists and hold fast.

He saw something uplifted, and he knew well enough that the furious creature had drawn a weapon of some sort.

"Look out!" panted the weak voice from close at hand. "He will kill you! He has a knife!"

Then, as Merriwell used all his strength to hold back that uplifted hand, he began to realize that, athlete though he was, he was no match for the person he had tackled.

The strength of those long arms was something wonderful, for little by little the man forced Frank's hand back, and his knife approached the boy's breast.

Merriwell felt that his power of resistance might give out suddenly at any instant, and then the blade would be driven to its hilt.

He was desperate and frantic, for there was something awfully horrifying in the steady manner in which that knife was forced nearer and nearer.

Cold sweat started out all over him, and he panted for breath, while it seemed that his madly leaping heart would burst from his bosom.

He could see two glaring eyes that seemed to shine with a baleful light of their own in the darkness. He could see the writhing features of a ghastly face, and he could hear the creature grate his teeth.

Nearer and nearer came the blade.

Crying and panting, the one whom Frank had attempted to save got upon his feet, swayed a bit, and then steadied himself with a great effort.

"You shall not do it--you shall not!" he gasped.

Then he flung himself on the man, seeking to drag him from the prostrate lad.

Frank saw that the time had come to make a last effort for the mastery, and so, aided by the other, he succeeded in forcing his opponent back enough so he could squirm out from beneath.

In a moment Frank gained his feet, and then, as the man with the knife came up, out shot the fist of the young athlete.

Smack!

The blow landed fairly, sounding clear and distinct.

Over went the dwarf, and the knife flew out of his hands, falling with a clattering ring upon some stones.

Merriwell knew he must follow up his advantage, but he was barely quick enough, for the fallen ruffian scrambled to his feet with the nimbleness of a cat.

But again Frank struck the fellow, using all his skill and muscle. He barely escaped being clutched by those long arms, but the dwarf was knocked down once more.

The sounds which came from the throat of the man were decidedly unpleasant to hear. They did not seem to be words, but were a succession of snarls.

By the time Frank had struck the creature again, he did not scramble up so quickly.

At that moment, having heard the sounds of the struggle, some person brought a light to the broken window of an old house that stood almost within the limits of the street.

That light shone out and fell full on the dwarf man as he was rising to his feet after the third blow. His long arms were extended so that his hands lay on the ground, and he was standing in a crouching position on all fours. His face was pale as marble, and disfigured by a red scar that ran down his left cheek from his temple to the corner of his mouth. His eyes were set near together, and were blazing with ferocity.

Taken altogether, Frank thought that the most horrible face he had ever seen.

The light seemed to startle the horrid-appearing creature, and, with a low, grating cry of baffled fury, he turned and ran swiftly away, still in a somewhat crouching position, his hands almost touching the ground, while he made queer leaps and bounds.