A SURPRISE FOR FIVE THUGS.
Frank left the hospital on foot. He might have taken a car, but he
preferred to walk. Always when thinking deeply he chose to walk, and he
often became utterly oblivious to his surroundings, even on the crowded
streets of a city.
He now set out without regard to direction. His talk with the Mexican
boy had set him to thinking of Porfias del Norte and Alvarez Lazaro,
between whom there had seemed to be some mysterious connecting link. The
nature of that link was something to puzzle over, even though both men
were dead.
Many times Frank had thought of the strange declaration of Lazaro that
he was the avenger of Del Norte, even that he was Del Norte himself.
Such an assertion seemed that of a madman.
Still Lazaro was in appearance Del Norte grown old, his face
time-furrowed, his black hair turned snowy white. More than that, for
all of Lazaro's aged appearance, he had seemed to possess the vigor and
vim of a very young man. His eyes burned with the fire of youth, and
they were exactly like the eyes of Del Norte. His voice also was the
voice of Del Norte.
Dusk was gathering in the streets of the great American metropolis, the
street lights were beginning to gleam, laborers were homeward bound from
their toil.
Quite unconscious of the fact, Merry had wandered into a disreputable
quarter, and suddenly, without warning, he was set upon by a number of
men. One of them struck at him, while another attempted to sandbag him
from behind.
The attack in front caused Frank to dodge with a pantherish spring that
was most astonishing in its quickness, considering the fact that a
moment before he had seemed totally unsuspicious and unprepared. This
leap saved him from being stretched unconscious by the sandbag.
An instant later he was engaged in a hand-to-hand encounter with five
thugs who had marked him as their prey. A well-dressed young man like
Merry was sure to attract attention in such a quarter, and these
ruffians had singled him out as a chap worth plucking.
His sudden and astounding change from total unwariness to a fighting
youth with every sense on the alert was something for which they were
unprepared.
He struck one fellow a terrible blow, which sounded clear as the crack
of a pistol and sent the man turning end over end into the street, where
he sprawled. He seized another by the left wrist with his own left hand,
gave him a forward jerk to one side, at the same time striking him a
swift, sharp blow with the outer edge of his open right hand, which
landed on the fellow's neck just under the ear and turn of the jaw.
This man dropped like a stricken ox, and lay quivering on the broken
curbing of the sidewalk.
Ducking low, one of the men attempted to seize Merry about the waist.
The young American athlete leaped backward, his foot came up, the toe of
his boot struck the man under the chin, and over the ruffian went, flat
on his back, his lips cut and bleeding, and choking over several teeth
he had suddenly lost.
The street light at the corner sent a ray that gleamed on an uplifted
knife.
With a squirming movement, Merry escaped the stroke, which cut a slit in
his coat sleeve near the shoulder.
Then the man with the knife was seized, whirled round till his back was
toward the youth attacked, and flung clean over Merry's head, striking
on his head and shoulders on the flagging of the sidewalk.
The fifth thug paused in astounded hesitation. What sort of a chap was
this who could dispose of four men with the rapidity of lightning, using
only his bare hands? More than that, they had attacked him when he
seemed quite unaware and unprepared, yet they had brought upon him not
the slightest harm.
Frank's hand went toward his hip pocket.
With a yell, the fifth thug turned and ran for his very life, dodging
into a dark alleyway.
From the opposite side of the street a strapping big man came hurrying
toward Merry, crying:
"Give it to 'em! That's the stuff!"
Wondering if the fellow was another of the thugs, who might try to get
at him, Merry held himself on the alert, ready for anything.
The dim light showed that the big fellow had a beardless, youthful face.
He was dressed plainly, but his appearance was not that of a ruffian.
He paused, thrust his hands into his pockets, and surveyed the fallen
thugs, who were beginning to bestir themselves.
"Well," he said, with a laugh, "you certainly got away with that bunch
in a hurry. I saw them jump on you and made tracks to give you a hand,
expecting they would down you before I could get here. Instead of
downing you, they went down so fast that they looked as if they were
falling before a machine gun. Your style of fighting is much like that
of a chap I knew at college. It's the goods."
"Thank you," said Merry. "But I wasn't expecting trouble, and I came
near getting mine, all right."
"Eh?" cried the big fellow. "Your voice sounds familiar. It can't be
that----"
He stepped nearer, peering into Merry's face.
Suddenly Frank recognized him.
"Hello, Starbright!" he exclaimed, in delight.
"Frank Merriwell!" shouted the big fellow, leaping forward and grasping
Merry's hand. "Oh, eternal miracles! Am I dreaming?"
Such a handshaking as it was! Here was Dick Starbright, the big Yale
man, who had good cause to remember Frank with emotions of the deepest
gratitude and friendliness.
"What in the world are you doing here, Merry?" asked Dick.
"What in the world are you doing here?" was Frank's counter question.
"Why, I'm a newspaper reporter. Been digging up the facts in regard to
the Poydras murder. That brought me into this quarter. Now you own up."
Frank explained as briefly as possible.
"Want these fellows?" questioned Starbright. "They're getting in
condition to sneak."
Indeed, two of the thugs had "sneaked" already, having improved the
opportunity while the attention of Merry and Starbright was wholly
absorbed by the surprise of their unexpected meeting. Another fellow was
on his feet, and he ran the moment he heard Dick's words. The fourth was
on his hands and knees, apparently seeking strength to rise.
"I see no officer near," said Merry. "We might tackle a difficult job if
we tried to drag even one of them along until we could find a cop."
"That's right. His pals would be down on us, a dozen of them, at least.
I fancy they'll let us alone now if we don't linger here. Let's sift
along."
The last of the ruffians to rise to his feet staggered to the nearest
wall, against which he leaned, gazing after the two young men who were
walking away.
"Talk about choin-loightning!" he muttered. "It ain't in it wid dat
cove! He coitinly done der whole gang, an' done dem good. He was
sloidin' along in a trance when we went at him, but der way he come
outer dat trance was a shock to der bunch. He's got more foight in him
dan any ten blokes I ever seen before."
"I'm mighty glad I ran across you, Merry," said Starbright as they
walked away. "You are just the fellow to straighten Morgan up and set
him on the right track."
"Morgan?" questioned Frank.
"Yes, Dade Morgan. I can't seem to do anything with him, and he's fast
getting in a bad way."
"Is he in New York?"
"Oh, yes; and it would be better for him if he was anywhere else."
"What's he doing here?"
"He isn't doing much of anything now, and that's one thing that is the
trouble. You know what a proud, high-strung chap he always was. Well,
he's up against it, and it has completely upset him."
"How is he up against it?"
"Why, he hit the pike pretty hard when he came here. He had some ready
money, and he lived uptown at the Imperial. You know lots of sports and
bloods hang out round that hotel. Dade fell in with some of the bunch.
He got some tips on the races and made a few thousand dollars. It was
the worst thing that could have happened to him. Next he took a flyer in
stocks, trading on margins. He made some more money. I tell you, he was
flying high just about then. He thought he had the world by the scruff
of the neck. You should have heard him when he ladled out the talk to
me. Told me what a howling chump I was to plug away on a newspaper on
space. Offered to steer me right to coin money the way he was doing. I
tell you, Merry, it was tempting. There he was rolling in boodle and
living on the fat of the land, while I had a three-fifty hall bedroom
and was eating round at cheap restaurants. Some weeks I made as much as
twenty-five, and then I was rich; but perhaps the very next week it
would be seven or eight, and before long I was poor again. Reporting on
space is a mighty hard mill to go through; but a man learns something at
it."
"Go on about Morgan," urged Frank.
"There isn't a great deal to tell. The cards turned on him. He struck
the toboggan and he went down with an awful thump. All he had made was
wiped out at a single swipe. He followed it up, and in less than a week
he was dead broke. Had to give up his rooms at the Imperial. Came down
to a cheap hotel, and he's there now. He plays the bucket shops with
every dollar he can get, hoping the tide will turn. I don't think he
eats enough to keep a sparrow alive. The only thing that keeps him from
drinking is that he spends all the money he can get gambling."
"How does he get money?"
"Why, he--he--he gets it somehow--I don't know--just--exactly--how."
Frank felt that he could forgive the big fellow the fib. He knew well
enough that Dade Morgan was getting his money from Richard Starbright,
who, in order to earn anything, was working like a dog on a newspaper.
The fact that he was helping Morgan along Starbright wished to conceal.
Instantly Merry knew the situation was one to be investigated.
Starbright had told him enough for him to realize that Morgan was on the
road to ruin and very near the brink.
In the old days at Yale, Dade had been for a time Frank's bitterest
enemy, having been taught from early boyhood by his uncle and guardian
to loathe the very name of Merriwell; but in the end Merry's manliness,
bravery, generosity, and nobility had conquered Morgan's hatred and had
finally made the fellow Frank's friend.
Starbright was right in saying Dade Morgan was proud and high-strung. He
was not the fellow to long endure poverty and humiliation without doing
something desperate.
"Take me to him right away, Dick," urged Merry.
Suddenly Starbright seemed to hesitate.
"I don't know as Dade will ever forgive me for showing him up in his
poverty," he said. "He hasn't let any of his friends at home know of his
reverses. Keeps writing to them in the most cheerful manner, and I'll
bet they think he has New York at his feet."
"I'll make it all right with him," assured Merry. "Don't worry about
that, Dick. Let's get to him without the loss of a moment."
They had now reached Third Avenue, and they boarded a car southward
bound, which at that hour was comparatively empty, while the cars bound
in the opposite direction were packed.
While they were on the car Merry told Starbright something of his great
plan to build a railroad in Sonora that should tap his mining property,
and of his battle with Porfias del Norte and Alvarez Lazaro.
"Whew!" exclaimed Dick. "But you have been engaged in strenuous
affairs."
"Rather," nodded Merry. "But the sky is pretty clear now, and I feel
like taking a little relaxation. I have a plan that I will unfold after
we find Morgan. Inza Burrage, Elsie Bellwood, Bart Hodge, Bruce
Browning, and Harry Rattleton are in town, and they----"
"Great Scott!" palpitated the young reporter. "This is great! I'll have
to see them all if it takes me away from the paper long enough to get me
fired. Here we are. We get off here."
They had reached the Bowery.
Leaving the car, Starbright led the way to one of the cheapest downtown
hotels, over the door of which was a sign which stated that rooms could
be secured there for fifty cents a night, beds for fifteen and
twenty-five cents.
They mounted a flight of dirty stairs and came into the office, where a
number of poverty-stricken men were sitting about, reading papers,
smoking, and talking. Some of the men looked like hobos, and all wore on
their faces the stamp of blighted lives. A single glance made it plain
that drink had caused the downfall of nearly all of them.
Merriwell shrugged his shoulders as his eyes ran swiftly over the hotel
office and the loungers gathered therein.
"Dade Morgan stopping here!" he mentally exclaimed. "The immaculate,
almost aesthetic, Dade in such a wretched place! It seems impossible."
There was no clerk behind the desk.
"Come on," said Starbright. "I know how to find Morgan's room. This
way."
They turned from the office and mounted another flight of stairs, darker
and dirtier than the first. There was no carpet on the bare floor of
the corridor above, where a weakly flaring gas jet made a sickly break
in the gloom. There was a peculiar smell about the place that was
distinctly offensive. The door of a room stood open. Inside two
filthy-looking men, minus their coats, were arguing loudly and drunkenly
about "labor and capital," while a third man lay sleeping on a dirty
bed.
A man shuffled along the dark corridor and stared at Frank and Dick with
suspicious, resentful eyes. He was low-browed, sullen, and vicious in
appearance; just such a man as one would not care to meet alone on a
dark street late at night.
From another room came the sound of maudlin singing, and in still
another a man was swearing horribly.
Merry grasped Dick's arm.
"Haven't you made a mistake?" he asked.
"A mistake? Why----"
"Dade Morgan can't be stopping in a place like this."
"I know it doesn't seem possible," said Dick. "But he is here--at least,
he was last night."
They came to a door, which Dick unhesitatingly pushed open.
A sickly gas jet was burning within the room. Stretched across a
wretched bed lay a dark, silent figure.