Frank Merriwell's Champions Part 31

"No," she answered, her voice showing the least trace of agitation; "thanks to the brave action of this young stranger, I am not."

At this the horseman scowled fiercely on Frank.

"Thanks to nothing!" he muttered. "I should have overtaken and stopped the skittish brute. If it hadn't been for these smart youngsters on their confounded bicycles, the horses would not have been frightened."

"I think you are mistaken about that, sir," said Frank, promptly. "When we came in sight of you both horses were frightened, and you were abusing your own mount. I think you are entirely responsible for this runaway, and, if I were this young lady, I should be cautious about riding out with you again."

"Insolent puppy," grated the man. "How dare you talk to me like this!

Why, I-I've a mind to--"

"I wouldn't try it, sir!" came sharply from Merriwell, as the fellow lifted his whip. "You touched me with that back in the woods, and I do not care to have you repeat it."

There was something in Frank's manner that caused the man to lower the whip, boy in years though it was who faced him so boldly.

The girl stepped forward quickly.

"Stop, Cousin Stephen!" she cried. "This brave young man stopped Rex, and it may be that he saved my life. You should thank him instead of quarreling with him."

"Thank him for nothing!" growled the man. "It's a wonder he didn't pitch you out of the saddle and kill you when he caught the horse by the bit and yanked its head around."

Barney came riding up, and both horses p.r.i.c.ked up their ears and regarded the bicycle with signs of mingled doubt and alarm.

"Get off-get off from that, you fool!" cried the man. "What do you want to do-scare the blooming beasts into running away again? Don't you know anything?"

That was enough to start Barney's temper.

"Av ye'll shtep down a minute, Oi'll be afther showin' yez a few things Oi know," he flung back.

Other hors.e.m.e.n were seen approaching swiftly. There were three in the party, and they headed straight toward the little group in the road.

"Why, it is father and Kenneth!" exclaimed the girl, as she observed them. "And the other is-is Mr. Harden!"

Something like a curse came from beneath the black mustache of the man she had called "cousin." He glared at the approaching hors.e.m.e.n, and Frank heard him mutter:

"What in Satan's name is Harden doing here? I believe he saw the runaway! Hang the fellow! he's always around!"

Up came the hors.e.m.e.n, with a clatter of hoofs. The youngest of the party was not older than Frank, and he was a fine-looking youth, with dark eyes and curling hair. Next to him was a young man of twenty-two or three, with a blond mustache, and the third was a man of fifty, with an iron-gray beard.

The youngest of the strangers leaped from the saddle, and was at the girl's side in a moment, exclaiming:

"Are you all right, sister mine? You are not harmed?"

"Not a bit!" she half laughed; "but there is no telling what might have happened but for the brave young man there who stopped Rex. The horse had the bit in his teeth, and I could do nothing with him."

"We saw it-saw it all," declared the youth. "We reached the top of the hill yonder in time to witness his act, and I must say it was as nervy and skillful as anything I ever beheld. Sir"-speaking to Frank-"I wish to thank you for your gallant rescue of my sister."

He held out his hand, and Frank accepted it. Each felt a thrill as they crossed palms, and their eyes met, and it seemed that a bond of friendship was cemented between them.

"My name is Kenneth St. Ives," explained the strange lad.

"And mine is Frank Merriwell," said our hero.

"Mr. Merriwell, I am happy to know you," declared Kenneth. "Permit me to properly present my sister."

Smiling, Frank lifted his cap and bowed gracefully, but the girl held out her hand, her full lips parting to show her fine white teeth, as she smilingly said:

"Let me shake hands, also, Mr. Merriwell. Pardon the glove."

On his horse, "Cousin Stephen" glared and ground his teeth.

CHAPTER XX-AT SPRINGBROOK FARM

Then Kenneth St. Ives introduced his father and Mr. Harry Harden. To avoid an introduction, Stephen Fenton had turned his horse about, and was staring sullenly in the opposite direction.

"Mr. Merriwell," said Preston St. Ives, dismounting to take Frank's hand, "I owe you much for your daring service to my daughter. I shall always feel that I am indebted to you."

Harden dismounted, and talked with Iva, while Fenton glared at them in a side-long manner, chewing the ends of his black mustache and scowling fiercely.

Within a very few moments Preston St. Ives found out that Frank and Barney were on their way to New York, and that they were closely followed by a party of friends.

"New York is a long distance away," smiled the father of the girl Frank had rescued. "At most, you would not think of proceeding farther than Philadelphia to-night."

"We intended to stop there," said Frank.

"But there is no reason why you should be in a great hurry," said St.

Ives, "and so you must stop at Springbrook Farm to-night."

"Springbrook Farm?"

"That is our country place," Kenneth hastily explained. "It is a roomy, old-fashioned place, and there will be plenty of room for you all. You can't refuse, Mr. Merriwell!"

At first Frank attempted to decline the invitation, but Iva added her invitation to that of her father and brother, and Kenneth promised a jolly time, so that Merry was really inclined to go. A look at Barney's face showed he was eager to have Frank accept the invitation.

"Well, Barney," said Frank, "if we stop at Springbrook Farm to-night, you'll have to watch out for the fellows and let them know about it."

"Thot Oi'll do, Frankie," immediately agreed the Irish lad. "But pwhere is Springbrook Farrum!"

"The farm may be seen from the top of the hill yonder," said Kenneth.

"Come along with us, and we will point it out to you."

At this juncture, Stephen Fenton suddenly yanked the head of his horse about, gave the creature a cut with the whip, and went tearing along the road in a cloud of dust, having left the others without a word.

"What is the matter with him?" cried Preston St. Ives, watching the fellow with a look of displeasure. "It's a wonder that horse doesn't run away with him and kill him!"

"Oh, he has been in a cross mood all the afternoon, papa," said Iva. "He is out of sorts with everything and everybody, and it was because he accidently struck Rex with his whip that the dear old fellow ran away with me."