TEACHING A RASCAL A LESSON.
"Now hold on, young man, don't be so fast," said the stranger. "You do
not know me now, and I don't blame yer fer not wantin' anybody yer don't
know doing anything fer yer horse; but here's my card--Professor James
Colbath--and now I know you have heard of me. I am one of the greatest
veterinary surgeons in the country."
Frank ignored the card, and the man began to show signs of anger.
"This is no bluff!" he exclaimed. "It's on the level. I have nary doubt
but I can find out what's the matter with the critter in five minutes,
and if I don't give yer a square deal I don't want a cent for my
services, that's all."
He would have lifted one of Nemo's feet, but Frank cried:
"Drop that! I tell you I don't want you, and I won't have you! Get away
from this horse!"
The man growled and stiffened up.
"All right," he said, somewhat savagely. "I did think of trying to buy
the critter off yer, but you're too flip. If the animal stays lame,
don't blame me."
Although Frank had seemed to pay very little attention to the stranger,
he was inspecting him closely. He saw the man had pulled his hat down
over his eyes, and wore his coat collar turned up. He had a black beard
that concealed his features to a great extent.
Grody was also looking the stranger over closely. He fancied he detected
a familiar sound in the man's voice. The light in the stable was rather
dim, and that served to make the inspection of the boy and the hostler
rather unsatisfactory.
All at once, Grody started as if struck by a sudden idea. As soon as
possible, he whispered in Frank's ear:
"That mug is the same chap that were here this afternoon, sir."
"The same chap? What chap?"
"The one what gave his name as Diamond."
"No? You said that fellow had no beard."
"I don't believe this man's beard is all right."
Frank was aroused. He fancied that he saw a ray of light.
The fellow who had called himself Professor Colbath turned away. He had
heard the hostler whisper, and he caught Frank's question. Immediately
he showed a desire to get out.
Leaving the horse to Grody, Frank quickly placed himself before the
stranger, saying:
"Hold on a minute. I don't know but I'll talk with you a little."
"No, yer won't!" growled the man. "I'm done tryin' to talk with a fresh
youngster like you--I'm done with you."
"Well, I am not done with you!"
Frank's voice rang out sharp and stern.
"What do you want?" asked the man, uneasily.
"I want to see your face."
"Well, look at it, and when ye've seen it I'll proceed to smash yours! I
don't take no insolence from a kid!"
"Take off your hat!"
"I will--nit!"
"And that beard--take it off!"
"Ye're crazy!" cried the man, as he started back.
"Am I?"
Frank gave a spring and a grab with both hands. One hand snatched away
the cap, and the other tore off the black beard, which, indeed, proved
to be false.
The man uttered an exclamation of rage, and struck at Frank, who dodged
the blow.
"Is this the fellow, Grody?" cried Frank.
"The same mug!" declared the hostler, excitedly.
"Well, that's all I want to know!" burst from Frank, as he flung the hat
and beard to the floor. "So you were monkeying around my horse to-day,
you fakir! Well, what you need is a pair of good black eyes, and I
propose to give them to you!"
Snap!--off came the boy's jacket in a twinkling, and he still stood
between the unmasked man and the door.
The man, who was a coarse-looking young ruffian, ground his teeth and
uttered some violent language.
"Git out the way!" he snarled. "I'm a fighter, and I'll kill yer! I can
put yer ter sleep with one punch!"
Merriwell's blood was thoroughly stirred, and he felt just like
teaching the fellow a lesson. Although a youth in years, Frank was, as
my old readers know, a trained athlete, and he could handle his fists in
the most scientific manner.
"I am going to give you a chance to put me to sleep," he shot back. "I
see your dirty game from start to finish! You are a fakir of the worst
sort, and you tried to work me. You did something to my horse to make
him lame, and you thought you would get a fat pull out of me for
doctoring him. Instead of that, you have run your head into a bad
scrape, and it will be damaged when you get it out."
"You talk big for a kid. Why, I can blow yer over with my breath."
"It is strong enough. But I don't go over so easy. Up with your hands if
you are such a fighter! I'm coming for you!"
"All right! If ye're bound to have it, come on!"
The man put up his guard, and then Merriwell went at him, while Grody
gasped for breath, thinking the college lad could be no match for the
young ruffian.
There were a few swift passes, and then Frank went under the fellow's
guard and gave him a terrific uppercut on the chin. That was a
staggerer, and the boy followed it up while the man was dazed.
Punk!--biff!--two blows, one on the body and the other fairly in the
eye.
The second blow nearly knocked the man down, and it made him as fierce
as a famished tiger. Snarling like an enraged beast, he tried to close
in on the lively lad.
"Oh, let me get hold of you!" he grated. "I'll crush the life out of
ye!"
Frank avoided the rush by stepping aside, and gave the fellow another
body blow as he passed.
Body blows, however, were not as effective as they should have been, on
account of the fellow's clothing, and Merriwell quickly decided to waste
no more energy in that manner.
The man turned, and went for Frank again. This time the boy did not try
to get out of the way, but he met his antagonist squarely, and gave him
a heavy one in the other eye.
"That ought to make them mates," said Frank, with a laugh. "You won't
know yourself when you look in the glass to-morrow morning. Perhaps
it'll teach you better than to try any of your rackets on a boy. You
can't always tell what you are getting up against."
The man's teeth could be heard grinding together. He was so furious that
he quite lost his head. Then Frank sailed in to finish the affair as
soon as possible.
Grody held his breath, nearly bursting with astonishment and admiration.
"Oh, say!" he chuckled. "I never saw a youngster what were that fellow's
match! He's hot stuff!"
The hostler could scarcely believe it possible that Merriwell was giving
the scoundrel a first-class whipping, but this became more and more
evident with each passing moment.
In fact, Frank was struck just once during the entire encounter, and
that was a glancing blow on the forehead, which he scarcely noticed. He
thumped the rascal to his heart's satisfaction, and then knocked him
flat with a round-arm swing that landed on the jaw.
The ruffian lay on the floor and groaned. When he started to get up
Merriwell exclaimed:
"There, I think that will do you for to-night! When you want some more
of the same just come fooling around my horse!"
He caught the man by the shoulders, yanked him to his feet, ran him to
the door, and booted him out of the stable.
Having done this, Frank turned back and coolly put on his coat.
"There, Grody," he said, "I feel better. I think it is possible I have
given that rascal a lesson he will not forget in a hurry."
The hostler stared, and then he cried:
"Mr. Merriwell, sir, you are a wonder! If as how you were to go inter
ther ring you'd make some of the duffers hustle. That were the neatest
job what I ever see!"
"It was not so much of a trick," declared Frank. "The fellow is strong,
I'll warrant, but he is too heavy on his feet and too slow in his
movements. There are scores of fellows in college who can polish him
off."
"I will allow I never knowed you college chaps were able to fight like
that before. I knowed some of you were for fighting among yourselves all
right, but I didn't think you could go up against a reg'ler scrapper."
"It's a part of the education at Yale," smiled Frank; "and I've found it
comes in handy occasionally. The man who can't fight his way through
this world in one manner or another gets walked over by chaps who are
not his equal in any other way. I do not believe a man should fight only
at the proper time, but when he has to fight, I hold that he should be
able to do a good turn at it."
"Well, you can do your turn all right, sir."
"Now, Grody, Nemo must receive proper attention. I am sure that fellow
did something to make the horse lame. What he did I can't tell. I don't
see how he did it without getting his brains kicked out."
Grody hesitated, and then he said:
"Mr. Merriwell, sir, I wants to tell ye something."
"All right, Grody, go on."
"I didn't tell all what happened in the stall to-day when that bloke
were here."
"Oh, you didn't?"
"No, sir. What called my attention to the fact that he had gone inter
the stall were a racket."
"What sort of a racket?"
"Nemo kicked and squealed, sir, and I heard the man speaking to him.
Then I ran over and looked in."
"What was the rascal doing, Grody?"
"He were examinin' Nemo's feet, sir."
"And that was when he got in his dirty work!" cried Frank, angrily. "I'm
afraid I didn't thump him as much as he deserved! I feel like hunting
him up and giving him a few more!"