THE KNIFE DUEL.
The moon came up in due time and flooded the wooded mountain wilds with
its mellow light.
With the caution of a creeping panther Frank Merriwell had climbed the
mountain side. He had waited patiently for the moon to rise, believing
it would aid him on that unfamiliar ground. He was now in the vicinity
of the top of the precipice over which the Irishman had plunged to his
death.
Suddenly a sound reached his ears, causing him to crouch on the alert,
with his rifle ready for use.
He quickly decided that some one was approaching the precipice, and in
this he made no mistake. Twice he caught a glimpse of the man before the
latter appeared in the full moonlight. When this man did appear, Frank's
heart gave a mighty bound of exultation, and the butt of the rifle
leaped to his shoulder.
"Halt, Del Norte!" he commanded, in a low, distinct voice. "Stand in
your tracks! If you try to run I'll shoot you dead!"
Del Norte it was, and he stopped like a man turned to stone.
"Up with your hands!" ordered Merriwell. "Your heart is covered by my
rifle!"
For a single instant it seemed that the villain would make an effort to
reach cover. Had he attempted it Frank would have shot him down. This
Merry did not wish to do, as he intended forcing the scoundrel to give
Inza up.
The Mexican's courage to attempt escape by a plunge into the shadows
failed him, and reluctantly he lifted his empty hands, snarling an oath.
"Keep them up!" ordered Merry, as he slowly advanced.
But when he was fairly in the moonlight another voice issuing from the
shadows near at hand brought him to a halt.
"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 assurance. "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.
But when he lunged again Frank leaped aside and struck him in the
shoulder, from which the blood flowed swiftly, staining the Mexican's
white shirt.
"The fiends must protect you, gringo!" hissed the wounded man.
"Fair fight!" muttered Red Ben. "Merriwell him win, he git gal."
For a few moments Del Norte's injury seemed to make him fiercer and more
dangerous. A little while he kept Frank on the defensive, and then he
was slashed in the forearm.
Clapping his free hand to the wound, he leaped backward, Spanish oaths
flowing from his lips.
"Him beaten!" whispered the watching Indian. "Merriwell kill him soon
now."
Frank followed Del Norte up.
"Stand up to it, greaser," he urged. "The fight has just begun. You have
threatened to leave your knife in my heart. I could have split yours a
dozen times, but I have spared you. When you are well cut up, I'll wring
from your lips the secret of Inza's hiding place."
"Never!" vowed the Mexican. "If die I do, I'll tell nothing. But I'll
not die! I'll yet kill you!"
Fancying he saw an opening, as Frank's hands were both hanging by his
sides, Del Norte leaped in. He was sent reeling back with another wound,
this time in the ribs.
Frank followed up his failing foe, forcing him to the edge of the
cleared space. He kept close, fearing Del Norte might attempt to flee.
Instead, the man danced round Merry till his back was toward the centre
of the cleared space, while the dark shadows of the scraggy timber was
behind Frank.
Again Del Norte rushed, but this time his wrist was seized and given a
wrench that brought him, with a gasping groan of pain, to his knees.
"Fight done now!" muttered Red Ben, as he saw Merriwell lift his
blood-stained blade.
"You're at my mercy, Del Norte," said Merry. "I can kill you with a
single stroke. I'll spare you if you speak the truth. Where is Inza
Bur----"
Out of the shadows behind Merriwell darted a figure. A heavy club
crashed on Frank's head.
Thus treacherously struck down, the brave youth dropped his knife and
fell senseless to the ground.