THE FIGHT IN THE DARK.
The attack came suddenly, and the boys were but poorly prepared for it.
However, they promptly grappled with their assailants, who seemed trying
to force them over the edge of the rocks into the water.
One of the unknown foes uttered a savage curse, but the other spoke not
a word, grappling with Hodge and trying to fasten his hands on Bart’s
throat.
“Fight for your life, Frank!” grated Bart. “We are trapped!”
He forced the man off and struck him with his fist. Still not a sound
came from the unknown, while fingers seemed to sink into Bart’s shoulder
with a grip of iron, drawing him close.
Again Hodge tried to break the hold of the fellow, but he could not
succeed. With his left he smote the man in the face, but still those
iron fingers held fast.
Bart felt himself forced backward. He realized that his assailant was a
person of enormous strength, and it seemed that he had met more than his
match.
But Bart was a fighter, and he never gave up while he could breathe.
Some lads might have weakened and begged, but the very fact that he
seemed pitted against his master made him fight all the more savagely.
Blow followed blow, till Bart could no longer strike with effect. He
knew he had left his mark on the face of the man. He was beginning to
gasp.
Three times did the unknown try to fasten his fingers on Bart’s throat,
and three times was he foiled by the boy, who now felt that he was,
indeed, fighting for his life.
There was something terrible and deadly about the manner in which the
silent man endeavored to get a crushing hold on Hodge. At last, Bart
panted:
“Who are you?”
No reply. The struggle continued with unabated fury.
Bart was forced to his knees, but he got upon his feet again. He
wondered how Frank was making out, but could not get breath to call to
his friend.
Once his feet slipped and he felt that he was going over the brink into
the water below, but he held fast to the man, and the unknown dragged
him back.
Then came a time when Bart’s assailant lifted his fist and struck the
boy on the temple. Hodge was stunned. He reeled and flung up both hands.
Quick as thought the man caught up the boy and flung him over the brink.
Bart whirled through the air, struck the surface of the water with a
great splash, and sunk.
In the meantime, Frank had been fighting fiercely, although taken at a
disadvantage. Once he flung the stranger fairly over his head, but the
man was up instantly, and, as Frank had slipped in doing the trick, it
proved a misfortune to Merry, who was caught from behind.
Again Frank’s assailant uttered a sound, but this time it was a laugh of
triumph.
“I have you now,” grated a hoarse voice in Merriwell’s ear.
“Oh, I don’t know!” returned Frank. “That’s not so sure.”
He gripped his body with a quick motion, and both rolled on the ground.
Over and over they went. When they rose, the unknown was still clinging
to Frank, having him at a disadvantage.
But Merriwell did not cease struggling for an instant. He did not seem
to need to rest, for he continued to fight as fiercely as at the start,
and he succeeded, at last, in breaking the hold of his enemy.
Frank whirled and grappled with the unknown.
“Now it is different!” he half laughed. “It’s not all going your way, my
friend.”
“I’m no friend of yours!”
“Excuse the slip.”
Frank forced the man off with his left hand, and then struck him with
his right. It was too close, however, for the blow to be effective, and
it simply seemed to sting the fellow to greater fury.
Now the unknown began to exhaust himself with his furious efforts to
beat Frank down and conquer him. He panted and snarled, but Merry was
his match.
Frank was waiting till the time when he could go at the man and do him
up. He could see his enemy was exhausting his wind in frantic struggles
to win at once.
Thus the battle continued till Merry heard a great splash in the water
of the cove, and, a moment later, a man came rushing to the assistance
of Frank’s foe.
“I’ve fixed t’other feller!” palpitated the man.
“Then get in and give me a lift!” growled the one who was trying to
conquer Merry. “This chap is the Old Nick!”
Frank knew now that he was fighting against desperate odds. They were
two against him, and they were determined to destroy him.
The thought that Bart had met with his end infuriated Merriwell. He had
heard the splash in the water, and his imagination pictured Hodge flung
down from the rocks, stabbed through the heart. Perhaps the water was
stained at that moment with the lifeblood of poor Hodge.
Smack!—Frank got in a swinging blow that sent one of the men staggering
backward to fall to the ground.
The other leaped upon him, trying to crush him down.
Frank squirmed about, obtained a hold upon the man, and gave him a
wrenching twist, jerking him off his feet.
Down upon his back went the fellow, and Merriwell knelt on his breast,
dropping heavily to knock the wind out of the man.
The other was up, and he sprang upon Frank’s back. Frank ducked quick as
a flash, and the fellow went flying over his head.
Merry felt for a stone. His blood was boiling, and he longed for a
weapon with which he could avenge his friend. His hand found one, but it
was not large enough. However, he arose with it, and flung it at one of
the men who was coming at him.
The stone struck the man in the breast and stopped him for an instant.
Then Frank found an opportunity to reach for his revolver. He snapped it
out of his pocket, laughing loudly. That laugh had a deadly ring.
The man who had been struck by the stone rushed at him again.
“Keep off!” cried Frank. “I shall shoot!”
“Shoot, hang you!”
Snap!—the hammer fell, but there was no report. The revolver had missed
fire.
Then the man closed in with Merry, grappling the weapon. Frank pulled
the trigger again in the struggle. There was a report, a spout of fire,
and a bullet went whistling skyward.
The man was trying to wrench the revolver from Frank’s grasp, and, for
some seconds, they fought over it. Frank had a firm hold, and it could
not be taken from him.
Discovering this, the unknown tried to force him down on his knees.
Frank knew not a few wrestling tricks, and he used one of them on the
man, who clung to the revolver as he dropped.
Merry was dragged down, and, on the ground, the struggle for possession
of the revolver continued. Frank felt that to lose it meant sure death,
for he was certain his enemies would not stop or hesitate at murder.
Still hanging to the revolver with one hand, the man secured a stone
with the other, and then he struck Frank on the head. The blow caused
Merry to see stars, but did not rob him of strength so that the ruffian
could wrest the revolver from his fingers.
Again the stone descended. This time it was a glancing blow. Frank
flopped the fellow over in a moment and sat up astride his body, tearing
his fingers from the revolver.
“Now I can shoot you!” cried Merry. “I would be justified in doing it,
for you have tried to murder me.”
The man struggled to fling him off, but Frank held him there, pushing
the revolver against his head.
“Keep still!”
For the moment Merry had forgotten the other man. Now there was a
grating sound behind him, and then he received another blow on the head.
That one was enough. Without a moan or a gasp, he fell over on the
ground, stricken senseless!
------------------------------------------------------------------------