Frank Merriwell's Races Part 5

Frank was aroused. He fancied that he saw a ray of light.

The fellow who had called himself Professor Colbath turned away. He had heard the hostler whisper, and he caught Frank's question. Immediately he showed a desire to get out.

Leaving the horse to Grody, Frank quickly placed himself before the stranger, saying:

"Hold on a minute. I don't know but I'll talk with you a little."

"No, yer won't!" growled the man. "I'm done tryin' to talk with a fresh youngster like you--I'm done with you."

"Well, I am not done with you!"

Frank's voice rang out sharp and stern.

"What do you want?" asked the man, uneasily.

"I want to see your face."

"Well, look at it, and when ye've seen it I'll proceed to smash yours! I don't take no insolence from a kid!"

"Take off your hat!"

"I will--nit!"

"And that beard--take it off!"

"Ye're crazy!" cried the man, as he started back.

"Am I?"

Frank gave a spring and a grab with both hands. One hand s.n.a.t.c.hed away the cap, and the other tore off the black beard, which, indeed, proved to be false.

The man uttered an exclamation of rage, and struck at Frank, who dodged the blow.

"Is this the fellow, Grody?" cried Frank.

"The same mug!" declared the hostler, excitedly.

"Well, that's all I want to know!" burst from Frank, as he flung the hat and beard to the floor. "So you were monkeying around my horse to-day, you fakir! Well, what you need is a pair of good black eyes, and I propose to give them to you!"

Snap!--off came the boy's jacket in a twinkling, and he still stood between the unmasked man and the door.

The man, who was a coa.r.s.e-looking young ruffian, ground his teeth and uttered some violent language.

"Git out the way!" he snarled. "I'm a fighter, and I'll kill yer! I can put yer ter sleep with one punch!"

Merriwell's blood was thoroughly stirred, and he felt just like teaching the fellow a lesson. Although a youth in years, Frank was, as my old readers know, a trained athlete, and he could handle his fists in the most scientific manner.

"I am going to give you a chance to put me to sleep," he shot back. "I see your dirty game from start to finish! You are a fakir of the worst sort, and you tried to work me. You did something to my horse to make him lame, and you thought you would get a fat pull out of me for doctoring him. Instead of that, you have run your head into a bad sc.r.a.pe, and it will be damaged when you get it out."

"You talk big for a kid. Why, I can blow yer over with my breath."

"It is strong enough. But I don't go over so easy. Up with your hands if you are such a fighter! I'm coming for you!"

"All right! If ye're bound to have it, come on!"

The man put up his guard, and then Merriwell went at him, while Grody gasped for breath, thinking the college lad could be no match for the young ruffian.

There were a few swift pa.s.ses, and then Frank went under the fellow's guard and gave him a terrific uppercut on the chin. That was a staggerer, and the boy followed it up while the man was dazed.

Punk!--biff!--two blows, one on the body and the other fairly in the eye.

The second blow nearly knocked the man down, and it made him as fierce as a famished tiger. Snarling like an enraged beast, he tried to close in on the lively lad.

"Oh, let me get hold of you!" he grated. "I'll crush the life out of ye!"

Frank avoided the rush by stepping aside, and gave the fellow another body blow as he pa.s.sed.

Body blows, however, were not as effective as they should have been, on account of the fellow's clothing, and Merriwell quickly decided to waste no more energy in that manner.

The man turned, and went for Frank again. This time the boy did not try to get out of the way, but he met his antagonist squarely, and gave him a heavy one in the other eye.

"That ought to make them mates," said Frank, with a laugh. "You won't know yourself when you look in the gla.s.s to-morrow morning. Perhaps it'll teach you better than to try any of your rackets on a boy. You can't always tell what you are getting up against."

The man's teeth could be heard grinding together. He was so furious that he quite lost his head. Then Frank sailed in to finish the affair as soon as possible.

Grody held his breath, nearly bursting with astonishment and admiration.

"Oh, say!" he chuckled. "I never saw a youngster what were that fellow's match! He's hot stuff!"

The hostler could scarcely believe it possible that Merriwell was giving the scoundrel a first-cla.s.s whipping, but this became more and more evident with each pa.s.sing moment.

In fact, Frank was struck just once during the entire encounter, and that was a glancing blow on the forehead, which he scarcely noticed. He thumped the rascal to his heart's satisfaction, and then knocked him flat with a round-arm swing that landed on the jaw.

The ruffian lay on the floor and groaned. When he started to get up Merriwell exclaimed:

"There, I think that will do you for to-night! When you want some more of the same just come fooling around my horse!"

He caught the man by the shoulders, yanked him to his feet, ran him to the door, and booted him out of the stable.

Having done this, Frank turned back and coolly put on his coat.

"There, Grody," he said, "I feel better. I think it is possible I have given that rascal a lesson he will not forget in a hurry."

The hostler stared, and then he cried:

"Mr. Merriwell, sir, you are a wonder! If as how you were to go inter ther ring you'd make some of the duffers hustle. That were the neatest job what I ever see!"

"It was not so much of a trick," declared Frank. "The fellow is strong, I'll warrant, but he is too heavy on his feet and too slow in his movements. There are scores of fellows in college who can polish him off."