CHAPTER XIX.AN UNEQUAL BATTLE.
“Daisy!” exclaimed Joe Hooker.
His brother gave vent to an exclamation of rage.
“Back!” cried the girl. “You shall not harm him!”
Joe took a step forward, but she glared at him and seemed ready to strike with all her strength.
“I’ll hit you, Joe Hooker, just as quick as anybody else!” she declared. “And I reckon I can lay you out with this bat!”
“Daisy, you don’t mean it!”
“Yes, I do!”
“But—but——”
“You shan’t touch him, I tell ye!” she screamed. “He was my friend. He talked to me better than anybody ever did before. I won’t see him hurt.”
A greenish light came into Joe Hooker’s eyes.
“Are you in love with him?” he sneered. “Are you struck on him, Daisy?”
“If I was,” she answered, defiantly, “I’d be struck on a man!”
“By blazes! I believe ye are!”
“I won’t see you do your mean work!” she panted. “You were to blame in the first place, and you know it! He met you like a man, and, because he was your master, now you have plotted to disgrace him this way. Shame!”
“You’re a fool, Daisy!” hissed Joe Hooker.
“I’ve been a fool to have anything to do with you!” she flung back. “I am done. From this night I’ll never speak to you again!”
“Oh, ye won’t!”
“No! I have seen the difference between a real man and a common fellow who swaggers and blusters. Frank Merriwell is a man.”
“Now I wouldn’t let him off to save my life!” snarled Joe, all the jealousy of his nature aroused. “You are struck on him! He shall have a double coat!”
“Never!”
“Oh, but he shall! What can you do?”
“I can fight to protect him.”
“Little good that will do! You are nothing but a girl, and we are five men.”
“No, you are not men! You are cowards—all of you!”
Frank admired the girl then. He strained at his bonds trying to free his hands, but in vain.
“Jump her, Joe!” snarled Sam Hooker. “She won’t hit you.”
“I will!” she cried—“I swear I will! Don’t try to put a hand on me, Joe Hooker! If you do, I’ll stretch you on the floor!”
Of a sudden Joe attempted another tack.
“Oh, come, Daisy,” he said, coaxingly, “don’t be foolish! You can’t save him! Put down that bat and we will talk it over.”
“Not on your life! I know what you want and you don’t get it that way! Frank Merriwell has been good to me, and I will fight for him as long as I can draw a breath!”
“Look out!” exclaimed Merry, suddenly.
“One of the other men—behind you!”
It was too late, for one of the masked men had edged along till he found a favorable opportunity to spring. Now he made a leap at the girl, grasping the bat.
She screamed and struggled, but it was useless then. They seized her, tore the bat from her hands, held her helpless, even though she bit and scratched.
“Take the cat out of here, Joe!” roared Sam Hooker. “Be lively about it! Get her away, and keep her away!”
Joe Hooker lifted the girl in his arms and carried her from the room, for all of her screams and struggles. He was not gone long before he returned, slamming the door and fastening it. He was panting, but seemed more vicious than ever.
“What did ye do with her?” asked Sam.
“She broke away from me,” answered Joe. “Hurry up with the job! I want to put the tar on myself! Oh, I’ll fix him! She called him a man! She is struck on him!”
He glared at Frank, who was now sitting with his back against the wall, having drawn himself into that position.
“We’d better be lively if that girl is free,” said Sam, nervously. “There is no telling what she may do.”
They advanced on Frank, but stopped in surprise, as he suddenly shot up to standing position, with his back against the wall. There was a look in the eyes of the captive that warned them he was not in a submissive mood.
“Grab him, fellers!” ordered Joe Hooker. “Strip his clothes off! We’ll have the tar and feathers onto him in less than five minutes! We’ll fix him!”
He sprang at Frank, but out shot one of Merry’s feet, striking Joe in the stomach and hurling him backward with terrific force. The fellow dropped to the floor, where he lay gasping, grunting and groaning, apparently badly hurt.
Sam Hooker gave a howl of rage when he saw what had happened to his brother. He had fancied Merriwell was beyond making further resistance, but now he saw his mistake. However, the fate that had befallen Joe did not render him cautious. Uttering fierce language, he rushed at Merry.
In France Frank Merriwell had learned to “box withhis feet,” having taken lessons from a Frenchman who was an expert in the art. Frank had realized the value of being able to use his feet scientifically in a rough-and-tumble fight, and now his acquirement stood him in good stead.
Joe Hooker had been kicked in the stomach, but his brother received a kick under the chin that fairly lifted him off the floor.
Sam went down with a crash.
The masked ruffians were astounded. They stared at Frank as if unable to believe a youth whose hands were tied behind his back had upset the terrible Hooker brothers so quickly and easily.
“Go—for—him!” groaned Joe, catching his breath in gasps. “Kill him! Smash him!”
Frank Merriwell laughed! It was the old-time ringing laugh of defiance.
“Come on!” he invited. “My hands are helpless, but I fancy I am a match for all of you, so long as I can see. Come on!”
The masked ruffians hesitated.
“Make a dive for him all at once!” cried one of them. “Ready!”
“Ready!” said the others.
“Now!”
At him they leaped.
They had expected that he would stand still, but he did nothing of the kind. He ducked and darted between them. Then he whirled and raised one of them into the air with a terrible kick.
Clinging to his jaw and snarling like a furious animal, Sam Hooker struggled to his feet, meaning to take part in the struggle.
Frank saw the fellow getting up.
“I’d rather have a good lift at you than anybody else!” cried Merry.
He got what he wanted. The kick he gave Sam Hooker threw the fellow full upon the stove, and his head struck in the pan of hot tar. Over the stove to the floor went Sam, tar and all.
Then the most frightful howls of pain issued from the throat of the ruffian. He rolled about on the floor, clawing at his face and eyes, and roaring with pain.
“I’m killed!” he shouted. “Murder! Oh, wow! Throw some water on me!”
“He wouldn’t mind having the hose turned on him now!” laughed Frank.
Joe tried to get up, but he was kicked full against his brother. In his agony, Sam struck out and smote Joe full on the nose, causing the blood to flow.
“Why, this is a regular merry old spree of a time!” exclaimed Frank Merriwell, as he danced backward, still laughing. “You chaps seem to be having lots of fun with me! Aren’t you glad you brought me here? Isn’t it a real jolly time?”
Then he actually charged on the masked rascals, and they dodged to get out of his way. Then might have been seen the remarkable and ludicrous spectacle of three men making frantic endeavors to avoid one whose hands were tied behind his back—one whom a few moments before they had regarded as a helpless captive!
“Whar’s my guns?” roared Sam Hooker. “I’ll shoot ther critter full o’ lead! I’ll kill him! I’ll——”
“You seem to have a little tar on you, Sammy,” laughed Frank. “Why, you make a real laughable spectacle! If you could see yourself in a mirror you would be greatly amused. It will take you several days to comb the tar out of your hair.”
“I’ll kill you!”
“I heard you say so before. You were going to tar and feather me, but your scheme seems to have miscarried. You’ve got the first dose of tar yourself.”
“Where’s that baseball bat?” howled Joe Hooker. “I’ll beat his brains out! Give me that bat!”
He saw it and made a scramble for it, but Frank headed him off and bowled him over, although Joe made a desperate attempt to get hold of Merry.
Sam Hooker had not found his “guns,” but he was on his feet now, and in his hand glittered a long knife.
“Oh, I’ll fix him now!” he snarled.
“Hold on!” cried one of the masked men. “That is going too far! We don’t want a hand in a murder!”
“You go to blazes!” snarled Sam. “I’ll cut his throat!”
He made a rush for Frank, brandishing the knife.
Merry knew his life was in danger, but that did not rob him of his nerve. He actually laughed again.
“Brave fellow!” he cried. “It is what I expected of you!”
Then came a startling cry from one of the masked men:
“Fire! fire! The house is on fire!”
In the excitement of the struggle none of them had noticed it, but now they saw the room was filling with smoke. And they paused, they could hear the crackle of the flames.
“Where is the fire?”
One of the men leaped to the door and tore it open. Then they saw the gleam of the flames, and, for a moment, they were appalled.
“The old house is all afire!” shouted the man at the door. “We must get out in a hurry if we want to get out at all!”
Then there was a rush for the door.
Sam Hooker was the last of the gang to reach the door. He turned a moment, and his tar-bedaubed face made him look like a fiend.
“Stay here and roast to death, Frank Merriwell!” he snarled.
Frank bounded toward the door, but it closed with a slam, and he recoiled helplessly from the shock of striking against it. Again and again he flung himself against that door, but it refused to yield, and he realized that he was a helpless prisoner in the burning building, abandoned to his doom by those dastardly ruffians.
There was another door, and Frank tried that, but it was as solid as the first.
He looked for windows, but the only one he could see was in the roof, far above his head.
“Cooped up!” he muttered. “Done for! Left to roast!”
It was a terrible position. He could hear the crackling of the flames as they gained headway, and the smoke came pouring into the room so thickly that it threatened to strangle him. He coughed and choked and hurled himself again and again against the doors, till he was weak and battered and hopeless.
“Somebody must see this fire,” he muttered; “but they will get here too late to save me! The jig is up!”
He was in despair.
Then came a sound at one of the doors! Then it was flung open, and a coughing, strangling girl staggered into the room.
“Daisy Blaney!” he shouted, joyously.
“Come!” she gasped. “Hurry! If you don’t, we’ll not get out of here! The old building will be all afire in five minutes!”
He followed her. The light of the flames showed her seeming to plunge into the thickest of the yellow, rollingsmoke. He reached some stairs and fell clean to the bottom. There she got hold of him and dragged him out into the open air.
Both were coughing, but, as she worked to set his hands free, she said:
“I had to do it! It was the only way I could save you.”
“Had to do what?” he asked.
“Set the fire.”
“Did you do that?”
“Yes.”
“Daisy, you are all right! It was the best job you ever did!”
“We must hurry!” she panted. “The fire will be seen! We do not want to be found here! Men will come and ask questions.”
His hands were free, and he rose quickly. She sprang up.
“This way,” she whispered, and he ran after her, as she darted round the building, from the upper windows of which there now came a reddish glare.
“I know how to get away from here,” she said. “This old building is on the outskirts of the town.”
He trusted everything to her, and they ran on through the darkness, cutting across lots till they reached a distant street.
Then they heard the cry of fire from another direction, and they knew the first alarm had been given.
A few moments later the fire alarm sounded.
They were fortunate in escaping observation till the home of Daisy was reached.
“I’ll not forget what you have done for me to-night, Miss Blaney,” declared Frank. “You saved my life!”
“You did quite as much for me,” she asserted. “Ibelieve you saved me from a life of wretchedness. You made me understand just where I was drifting.”
“You are a brave little girl! I shall remember how bravely you stood up before those ruffians.”
“But they were too many for me. I could not fight them all.”
“How did you know they had me in that old building?”
“I knew something was happening. Joe would not tell me what, but I knew they were going to do something. I followed him after he left me to-night. I did not go into the house, though he thought I did. I saw them take you there. Then was when I made my mistake. I should have hurried to your friends and told them what happened, instead of trying to save you myself.”
“Well, it has turned out all right. They will think I perished in the burning building.”
She shuddered.
“Oh, the wretches!” she exclaimed. “To leave you there to be burned to death! I’ll never have anything to do with Joe Hooker again—never as long as I live!”
“He is not in your class, Miss Blaney. In the morning both Joe and Sam will be arrested on a warrant I shall swear out. They will not be expecting it. It will be a great surprise for them.”
“I don’t care,” said the girl. “I hope you will make them suffer for their dreadful acts. I shall not pity them one bit.”
“I shall give them the full benefit of the law.”
“But you must go on with your show. I shall not see you again.”
“You will be a witness against the Hookers?”
“If you want me.”
“I do.”
“Then you may depend on me. I’d do anything for you, Frank Merriwell!”
He pressed her hand in parting, bade her good-night and hurried toward the hotel.
At the hotel door, they met Gallup and Hodge, who were coming out.
“Hello!” exclaimed Bart. “Where have you been?”
“We was jest goin’ to the fire,” said Ephraim.
“I have been to it,” said Merry, quietly.
“Is it worth going to see?” asked Bart.
“I hardly think so. It is an old building on the outskirts of the town. It is not tenanted.”
“Not tenanted. Then how did it catch afire?”
“I am inclined to think somebody must have set it.”
Later, in his room, he told them of the thrilling adventure through which he had passed.
“What are you going to do, Frank?” panted Bart, fiercely. “What are you going to do to the Hookers?”
“Give them the full benefit of the law,” was the answer.
“They ought to be lynched!”
“That’s so, by gosh!” spluttered Ephraim. “They’re wuss’n I thought they was! If ever any critters oughter be lynched, them is the ones!”
“The sheriff will wait on them in the morning,” said Merry. “He will serve them with a great surprise, for they think I am burning in that old building.”
In the morning, however, neither of the Hooker brothers could be found in Carrolton. Whether they had learned of Merriwell’s escape or not, they had taken the alarm and fled from the town.
Frank made known the story of their atrocity, and the anger of the honest citizens of the place was great. They assured Merry that neither of the brothers would be tolerated in Carrolton again if they reappeared there.
Had not Frank felt that any neglect of his present duties would seriously endanger the success he now seemed on the highroad to achieve he would have abandoned everything in order to follow the wretches and bring them to justice. His future weighed heavier in the balance than his just vengeance, however, for Merry was too shrewd and clear sighted to pass over the substance to pursue the shadow. “True Blue” meant wealth, the satisfaction of his desires, happiness; the punishment of the Hookers, aside from its aspect as an act for the benefit of society, was but the satisfaction of anger, and nothing more.
Accordingly, early the following morning, Frank and his company left Carrolton en route for Chicago, where the real test of “True Blue” was to come. Frank felt little anxiety as to the result of this test. He knew he had written a winning play and he believed that at last he had seized that tide in his affairs that was to bear him on its broad bosom to fame and prosperity.
Frank had experienced adversity in its most chilling form. Firm and sturdy in his purpose to overcome his misfortunes, he had toiled with body and brain like the strong-hearted American youth he was, and now, as he reviewed the past and calculated his future from its present promise, he might well say:
“I have won, as pluck and purpose and cheerfulness always win!”
THE END.
THE END.
THE END.