THE FIGHT.
The figure of the dance was new to Jack, but the girl was perfectly
acquainted with it, and she piloted him at first, till he caught
on, for it proved simple enough.
She was a graceful dancer. Jack found opportunities to converse
with her. At first she was rather reticent, but he drew her out,
and he was surprised to find her an agreeable and intelligent
talker. He introduced himself, and she told him her name was Jennie
Wren. She said her father had been to Virginia to get out ship
timber, but she had never been farther away than Boston.
“Boston is a splendid city,” said Jack. “I haven’t been able to
spend much time there.”
“I spent several months there,” she declared.
“Indeed! You were fortunate.”
“I think so, but you see I earned all the money to pay my tuition.”
“Your tuition?”
“Yes. I took a course at the Boston Conservatory of Music.”
Diamond nearly dropped. For some moments he was dazed and could
not say a word. This girl had attended the Boston Conservatory of
Music, she was pretty and seemed refined, and she was to be married
to a big, bewhiskered, hulking, red-shirted ruffian who proclaimed
his ignorance by his general appearance, as well as his talk.
Diamond pitied her, for he had heard enough to know she was being
forced into the marriage against her wishes. It was plain she
really cared for the respectable-appearing young man named Bill.
When there was another opportunity to talk, the girl said:
“I taught school a long time to earn the money, but I’ve never
regretted spending it as I did.”
“That’s nice,” murmured Diamond, stupidly, for he was at a loss for
words now.
“Sometimes,” pursued the girl, “I’ve regretted that I came back
here, but my father has been very good, and I could not leave him.”
“Of course not.”
Jack could not talk. He understood the situation now, and his brain
was in a whirl. Through his head flashed wild schemes for rescuing
this girl from the red-shirted ruffian and giving her to the one
she loved. The thought that she might be forced into marriage with
the big brute in the red shirt caused the Virginian to grind his
teeth.
Diamond longed to talk to her of this, but he knew there was no way
of doing so on such short acquaintance. After a time he recovered
enough to talk of music, upon which he was posted and in which he
was interested, and this subject proved a sympathetic bond between
them.
The girl was pleased with Jack, for she saw in him the perfect
gentleman, who treated her with as much courtesy as if she had been
the finest lady in the land.
The dance was almost over when she shyly asked him if he waltzed.
He did. She said it was not easy to find partners for the waltz,
and then she blushed furiously and laughed to cover her confusion.
Jack asked her to waltz with him.
“The next waltz?” she murmured.
“Of course.”
“I will. They will have a waltz after this dance, I think.”
When the quadrille was over, Jack escorted her to the ladies’
dressing room, and waited outside for her to reappear.
Barely had she entered when the big red-shirted man rudely pushed
past Diamond, threw open the door of the room and entered,
regardless of the fact that he had no business in there.
Jack hesitated, more than half tempted to follow. While he was
hesitating, there came a shriek from the room.
With one bound the Virginian flung open the door and plunged in,
beholding a spectacle that aroused him to such fury as he had not
felt in months.
The man had the girl by the neck, and he was shaking her in a most
brutal manner.
With a shout and a bound, the Southerner was on him. He struck the
brute behind the ear, and hurled him against the wall with the
force of the blow. Then he caught the half fainting girl in his
arms.
But Diamond had made a mistake in thinking the blow, which would
have knocked out an ordinary man, must settle the ruffian for a
time.
The man recovered in a twinkling, and then, with a snarl of fury,
he lunged at Diamond, tearing the girl from Jack and sending her
staggering into a corner.
The Virginian felt a grip of iron close upon him. He tried to twist
about, but it was not possible to do so in that clutch. Then he
realized that the man had the strength of a Samson.
“Cuss ye!” grated the big ruffian. “I’ll fix ye!”
Holding Jack with one hand, he struck at him with the other. The
Virginian dodged his head to one side, and the blow missed. But
this simply served to make the ruffian still angrier.
However, before he could strike again, another person came rushing
into the dressing room.
It was Frank Merriwell.
Merry instantly saw his friend was in a bad scrape, an he flew at
the red-shirted man.
Once more the ruffian received a frightful crack under the ear, and
Diamond was torn from his clutch at the same moment.
“Look out for the girl!” came from Merriwell, and then he followed
the man up.
Frank Merriwell was a scientific fighter. He did not propose to let
the brute get a clutch on him, for something told him the man had
wonderful strength.
Before the man could recover, Merry hit him again and again; but
the blows did not seem to have any great effect, for, with a roar
of rage, the wretch recovered and came at him.
Instantly Merriwell bounded backward and out through the open
door, knowing it would not do to be cornered in that small room.
The man followed.
There were screams in the hall, hoarse shouts and the rush of feet.
“A fight! a fight!”
That was the cry.
“Mike will kill ther kid!” shouted a voice.
Diamond came lunging out of the dressing room, eager to stand by
Merriwell. He sought to get at the ruffian, but he was grabbed by
the other red-shirted fellow, and a voice jabbered:
“You no do dat! I take de han’ in dis. Levi Pombere he look out for
you. How you to like dat?”
Then he struck Diamond with his fist.
It was the French Canadian, who was evidently a friend of the big
man who was trying to smash Merry.
By this time Diamond was like a wildcat. He went at the fellow with
such fury that the “Canuck” fell back, vainly trying to defend
himself from the shower of blows which stung his face, beat on his
eyes, flattened his nose and bewildered him generally.
Diamond followed up every advantage. Never in all his life had he
fought with such frenzy. The Canadian could not stop him, and soon
the fellow’s face was cut and bleeding in several places. Then
Jack knocked him down, waited for him to get up, and knocked him
down again. The astounded and damaged man, who had fancied he was
dealing with a boy he could handle easily, scrambled on his hands
and knees toward the stairs, reached the head and rolled clean to
the bottom.
Around the hall men and girls were standing against the wall, with
their feet on the bench, watching the fight. Not a few of them had
witnessed a fight at a country dance before that, but this one was
a revelation, for they saw two beardless lads whipping two men who
seemed able to eat the boys, and who had the reputation of having
cleaned out a dozen men.
The fight between Merriwell and the big man was fully as fierce
as the one between Diamond and the Canadian. Frank took care not
to let the ruffian get hold of him. He dodged under the man’s
outstretched arms, hitting him in the wind till the big fellow was
doubled up. Then Frank forced the man back. When they were about
ten feet from the door that opened out upon the stairs, Frank
struck the ruffian a fearful blow, sending him staggering back
and back till he passed out through the door and went crashing to
the bottom of the stairs, landing on the Canadian, who lay there
groaning.
Some men went down and found both men at the foot of the stairs,
completely knocked out. Then they were carried away.
The news was brought back into the hall, and Merriwell and Diamond
were surrounded by an admiring crowd. All the men wished to shake
hands with the wonderful fighters, while some of the girls actually
expressed a desire to hug them.
“Do you know who you whipped, young man?” asked one of the male
witnesses.
“I know I did my best to whip a big brute,” answered Frank, quietly.
“Well, that big brute, as you call him, has the reputation of being
the worst man on the Penobscot. Why, he’s Mike Sullivan, and he’s
known from the Allaguash to Bangor.”
“Mike Sullivan!” exclaimed Frank. “Isn’t he a river driver?”
“He is; and he’s boss of a crew that’s comin’ down the river with
a drive. He came on ahead to be at this dance.”
Frank turned to Jack.
“By Jove!” he exclaimed. “Mike Sullivan is the boss of Fred
Forest’s crew!”
“That doesn’t make any difference,” said Jack. “He deserved all he
got--and more.”
Then he went away to search for the pretty girl he had defended.
The boys were urged to leave the hall, for it was said Sullivan
and Pombere would return as soon as they were patched up; but they
showed no fear, and they remained.
Jack danced with Jennie Wren twice, and, when he left, near
midnight, he had the satisfaction of seeing her waltzing with Bill.