Frank Merriwell's Pursuit Part 12

"Drop um gun! Ben him ready to shoot!"

It was the redskin sentinel.

Frank glanced round without turning his head, but he could see nothing of Red Ben.

"Shoot, Ben--shoot him down!" panted Del Norte.

"Ben got him foul," was the a.s.surance. "Him shoot you, Ben shoot him."

"Shoot first, you fool!" snarled the Mexican.

"No shoot 'less have to," was the retort. "Ben he no want hang for murder."

Frank realized that he was in a trap. Were he to fire at Del Norte it was almost certain the hidden redskin would shoot from cover. In his eagerness he had stepped into a bad snare. His wits worked swiftly to discover a manner in which he might extricate himself.

"Del Norte," he quickly said, "listen to me. We have met here face to face, and we are deadly enemies. The end of our enmity must be destruction for one of us. There can be no other end."

"You are the one, Senor Merriwell," declared Del Norte. "Had you shot me from cover you might have escaped. But now----"

"I never strike a foe from cover. We are face to face, and I propose that we settle our trouble man to man in combat. I challenge you to fight me."

"Heap fair," said Red Ben, from the shadows, satisfaction in his voice.

"Why should I agree?" cried Del Norte. "I have the best of you now. A friend of mine has you covered, gringo dog, and he can shoot you down."

"Ben him no do it 'less forced," declared the hidden Indian. "Him make fair offer. Let best man win. You kill him, you have gal. He kill you, he git gal. Heap fair."

Plainly the redskin was delighted with the proposition, and Frank saw this was the only way out of the trap.

"Select the weapons, Del Norte," he said. "I accept Red Ben as the referee. It's plain he believes in fair play."

The Mexican realized there was no method of avoiding the encounter, so he cried:

"It shall be knives, and I'll drive mine through your heart, cur of a gringo! With pistols you would be my equal, but I know the art of fighting with the knife, and I'll cut you to pieces!"

"Knives it shall be," agreed Frank, still holding the man covered. "If you have a pistol, cast it aside. Should you try to shoot as you pretend to drop the pistol, I'll drop you where you are."

Uttering a sneering laugh, Del Norte removed and flung aside his coat, saying his pistol was in it. He produced a knife, the blade of which glittered in the moonlight.

"I have no weapon of that sort," said Merry. "Have you another?"

"Here," called Red Ben.

Something whizzed through the air and fell at Frank's feet.

It was the Indian's hunting knife.

Del Norte was advancing, the moonlight showing a deadly look of hatred on his face.

Merry dropped his rifle and flung off his coat in a twinkling. Stooping, he caught up Red Ben's knife just as his foe rushed upon him.

With a quick, sidestepping movement, Merry flung up his hand and deftly parried the blow of Del Norte's blade, steel clashing against steel.

"Ha!" panted Del Norte, as he was flung back by a surge of Merry's powerful arm. "Next time, gringo--next time!"

He was at Frank again in a twinkling, but once more the young American met and baffled him.

Out of the shadows stalked Red Ben, holding his rifle in both hands and standing near as if ready to use it in a twinkling. The moonlight fell full on his dusky face, showing there an expression of savage satisfaction in the battle he was witnessing.

"Best man shall have gal," he muttered. "Ben he see fair play. Merriwell him best man, Ben stand by him."

The ground was somewhat rough. Over its broken surface the men dashed, and leaped, and turned, and circled. Once Del Norte uttered an exclamation of satisfaction as he struck, but Merry leaped away and the keen blade of Del Norte's knife simply cut a long slit in his shirt front.

"Near it that time, gringo dog!" panted the Mexican.

"A miss is as good as a mile," retorted Frank.

As the blades clashed together again Frank's knuckles were slightly cut and the blood flowed freely.

"First blood!" exulted Del Norte.

"A scratch," was the retort.

But soon that scratch began to prove troublesome, for the flowing blood covered the haft of the knife and made it slippery. This came near proving fatal for the American youth. Again the blades clashed, and, with a twisting movement, the Mexican wrenched Merry's knife from his grasp.

The weapon rattled on the rocks ten feet away.

"Now you die, gringo!" snarled Frank's enemy, with a wolfish laugh.

He launched himself at the defenseless youth with frightful fury, but Frank managed to clutch the wrist of his foe and check the stroke that would have been fatal. With a surge he flung the Mexican aside, at the same time springing toward the spot where Red Ben's hunting knife lay.

The moonlight revealed it plainly, and Merry had it in a twinkling.

Del Norte had followed him up, and was at him with a madness that was almost irresistible. He sent Frank staggering from the shock, and Merry tripped over a stone, nearly falling.

Seeing this, the Mexican uttered another cry of exultation, which turned into a curse as he saw the youth regain his footing like a cat.

"Much good fight!" muttered Red Ben.

"I'll get you yet, gringo!" panted the Mexican. "I have sworn to leave you dead, with my knife in your heart. Then the beautiful Senorita Inza will be mine--all mine! With you dead and gone, I'll have your mine and your sweetheart."

In this manner he sought to infuriate Frank and lead him to some act of rashness.

Although Frank's blood was burning like lava in his veins, outwardly he was wonderfully cool. As always happened in a time of great danger, he laughed outright.

"You boaster!" he exclaimed.

Del Norte was beginning to breathe heavily from his exertions. Again and again he struck at Frank, but each time the strokes were parried, blocked, or avoided. At last he began to realize that the American was a wonderful fighter with a knife, and, to his dismay, he saw Merriwell appeared almost as fresh and vigorous as when the fight began.

"Must end it quick," thought Del Norte.