THE DOWNFALL OF SAM HOOKER.
To the astonishment of Joe Hooker, Frank Merriwell did not attempt to
dodge. Instead, with a sweep of one arm, he knocked Sam Hooker’s hands
aside, and then planted a blow on the cowboy’s chin. It was a swinging
uppercut, and it literally lifted the ruffian off his feet.
The head and shoulders of the man struck the floor before any other part
of his body. Barely had he dropped when the young actor was on him,
grasping him by the collar and slack of his trousers. With a jerk, Frank
brought the man up, ran him to the door, and gave him a thrust. Then, at
the very head of the flight of stairs, Merry lifted Sam Hooker with a
terrible kick.
The man actually seemed to turn over and over in the air, and he struck
at the bottom of the stairs with a thud that shook the building.
Joe Hooker gave a shout of rage, and he was on Frank just as Merry
delivered that kick. It was too late for him to aid his brother, but he
knocked Frank against the wall, and then tried to clutch him by the
throat.
Right there Ephraim Gallup “got into gear.”
“Hold on, ye crooked critter!” he shouted. “Yeou can’t do that when I’m
araound, by thutteration!”
He caught hold of Joe Hooker and gave him a yank backward.
In a moment Merriwell had recovered from the surprise of the sudden
attack, and he also had hold of the cowboy’s younger brother.
“Let me have him, Ephraim!” he grimly commanded.
“I don’t want him,” confessed Gallup, as he relaxed his hold on Frank’s
assailant.
Merry whirled Joe toward the door, and, a moment later, the fellow went
sailing downstairs after his brother, on top of whom he landed.
Sam Hooker, stunned and bewildered, was just crawling to his feet when
Joe came flying through the air, striking on his shoulders. The cowboy
was hurled to the floor again by the crushing weight of his brother.
Joe was not seriously hurt, as his fall had been broken, but Sam lay
still and groaned.
Joe sat up and looked at his brother, whom he had regarded as mighty and
invincible. Sam opened his eyes after a little and looked at Joe. It was
several moments before either of them spoke.
“Are ye hurt much?” asked Joe.
“I dunno,” grunted Sam.
“Feel any pain?” asked Joe.
“I dunno,” grunted Sam.
Then they were silent several moments, still staring at each other. At
last, Sam ventured to speak again.
“What done it?” he inquired. “Was there an earthquake?”
“You went up to lick a dude for me,” explained Joe.
“Did I?” murmured the cowboy. “I’m ruther muddled. Where’s the dude?”
“Up there.”
“An’ we’re down here?”
“Yes.”
“Sing’lar!”
Again they were silent, while the cowboy seemed trying to collect his
thoughts, plainly no easy matter.
“What did I do to the dude?” he finally asked.
“Nothing,” answered Joe, dolefully. “He did it to you. He kicked you
clean down the stairs, and then threw me after ye.”
Sam made a frantic struggle and sat up.
“Look hyar, Joe!” he growled; “don’t tell me a lie, fer I’ll wallop yer
ef yer do!”
“That ain’t no lie,” declared Joe. “He done it, Sam.”
“How?”
“Don’t ask me! I reckoned you’d chew him up, but he seemed to handle you
easier than he did me.”
“Why, thar ain’t no galoot in this yar town kin handle me!” growled the
cowboy, making a desperate struggle to rise.
He grew dizzy and toppled over. Then Joe assisted him to his feet, but
he stood there in a bewildered way.
“Never felt so queer in all my life,” he muttered. “The wind seems all
knocked out of me. I think I need a drink to brace me up.”
“What are you going to do to the dude?”
“I don’t think I’ll do a thing ter him now, but I reckon I’ll settle
with him later. I’ll shoot him full of holes like a sieve! I’ll smash
him like a fly! I’ll rope him like a—steer! I’ll brand him like a calf!”
Joe seemed greatly disappointed.
“I allow you made some talk like this before we came here,” he said;
“but the dude kicked you down the stairs.”
“I wasn’t ready for him. I wasn’t expecting him to move so quick. He
took me off my guard. Ef he’d seemed at all dangerous, I’d been watchin’
out. But I’ll do him! He’ll never play in his old show ter-night! I
promise you that, Joe. I’ll fix him so he won’t be able ter walk acrost
ther stage!”
With that threat, the cowboy staggered out of the building, aided by
Joe.
As Joe landed in a heap on Sam, Sawyer, the stage manager, stared at
Frank Merriwell in wonder and admiration.
“How did ye do it?” he muttered. “Why, Sam Hooker didn’t seem to bother
you no more’n his brother Joe, and both of ’em was pie.”
“Haw! haw! haw!” roared Ephraim Gallup, slapping his thigh. “I did think
that big feller was dangerous, but he was disposed of so gol-darn easy
that it was over before I knowed it hed begun.”
“And he is the terror of the town!” gurgled Sawyer.
“When he come up here, I ruther thought I’d like to be to hum on the
farm, b’gosh!” confessed Ephraim; “but now I wouldn’t hev missed it fer
a hull acre of pertaturs.”
“Mr. Merriwell is a noted amateur athlete,” said Billy Wynne, speaking
to Sawyer. “But he never boasts about it, and we, the members of his
company, are just beginning to find it out.”
“Well,” said the stage manager, “I’m glad he was able to handle Sam
Hooker, but I wish he’d done the feller up so he couldn’t make any more
trouble. He’ll try to get revenge, see if he don’t. He’ll make lots of
trouble for Mr. Merriwell.”
“He better not,” said the Vermont youth, grimly. “The best thing he kin
do is ter keep still and mind his business.”
“He won’t do that. Mr. Merriwell must be on the watch for him.”
“I hardly think Mr. Hooker is very dangerous,” smiled Frank. “I have
noticed in almost every case that bullies are overrated. People get to
thinking them very dangerous, and thus they are able to carry on a reign
of terror till somebody takes the wind out of them. After that they
seldom amount to much. Sometimes they degenerate so that boys can handle
them. I am willing to prophesy that Mr. Hooker will turn out one of this
kind. As soon as it is well known that somebody has thrashed him, he
will become an object of ridicule, and no one will have cause to fear
him.”
“Well, if you could bring such a state of affairs about, the whole town
would owe you a vote of thanks,” declared Sawyer.
“It is not very likely that he will molest me again, unless, by some
chance, it becomes known that he was handled roughly this time. Then he
may make a desperate attempt to reclaim his lost reputation.”
“And you are not at all afraid of him, Mr. Merriwell?” “Afeared of him?”
exploded Ephraim Gallup. “By gum! I ain’t never yit seen ther critter
that walked araound on two laigs that Frank Merriwell was skeered of.”
“But this fellow is a bloodthirsty ruffian.”
“I do not believe he is nearly as bloodthirsty as he wishes people to
believe,” said Merriwell.
“Would you go right out of the door down there if you knew he was
waiting for you?” asked Sawyer, doubtfully.
Frank laughed outright.
“Do you think I would drop out of a window on the other side of the
building so he would not see me?”
“No, but it don’t seem to me that you know just what kind of a man Sam
Hooker is. You don’t seem to realize that he has whipped five fighting
men in a stand-up battle. I don’t believe that kind of a man can be
easily tamed.”
“Why, ding-darn it!” cried Gallup. “He never come back to git any more
arter he run ag’in Frank!”
“And for that very reason,” said the local stage manager, “I am inclined
to believe he will lay for Mr. Merriwell.”
“If he does, he’ll git a wuss wallopin’ then he ever guv anybody in his
life. I’ll warrant him that.”
“He made a mistake in thinking he was going to handle Mr. Merriwell
easily. Next time he will not make that mistake.”
“Waal, he don’t want ter.”
“He’ll try to smash Mr. Merriwell at the very start.”
“Don’t worry about that, Mr. Sawyer,” said Frank. “Go ahead getting my
stuff in. Ephraim, go to the hotel and send Havener and Dunton here to
help handle this stuff. We must have somebody in the place of Joe
Hooker.”
“All right.”
Ephraim departed, and Frank continued to watch the disposal of his
scenery as it was brought in.
It was not long before Havener, Dunton and Gallup appeared. Ephraim came
in fuming.
“By gum!” he cried. “Yeou’re goin’ ter have a raow with that feller,
sure, Frank! He’s watchin’ fer ye!”
“Hooker?”
“Yep.”
“I knew he would!” exclaimed Sawyer.
“Where is he?” asked Merry.
“At the saloon on the corner,” answered the Vermonter. “He was peekin’
aout of the winder, an’ he jumped aout when he saw me comin’. Soon as he
saw yeou warn’t with me, he said somethin’ kainder disgusted like an’
went back in. There’s a reg’ler gang with him.”
“A gang?”
“There is a crowd of young toughs who follow him around,” explained
Sawyer. “They think he’s able to whip Corbett, and they take delight in
seein’ him smash anybody.”
Frank did not show the least alarm, but his face grew grim and resolute.
“I rather fancy I shall have enough of my friends with me to see that I
get fair play,” he said. “That is all I ask.”
Dunton got close to Frank, and said:
“You can count on me, Mr. Merriwell. I believe I’d like a chance to make
myself solid with you again, for you must have a poor opinion of me
since what happened in St. Jo.”
“You did no more than hundreds of actors are doing every season,” said
Merry; “and you were man enough afterward to acknowledge that you
believed you were in the wrong. I have held nothing against you,
Dunton.”
“Thank you,” said the actor, simply.
“Ephraim told us about your encounter with this ruffian,” said Havener.
“You should have broken his head with a club.”
They continued the work of arranging the scenery and getting it ready
for quick handling at night. The first scene was set.
Frank told Sawyer that he wanted five men for supers, and they must be
on hand at three o’clock for instructions. Sawyer promised to provide
them.
Then Frank prepared to leave.
“Now,” said Ephraim, who was somewhat agitated, despite his efforts to
keep cool, “there’s goin’ ter be a dinged hot old time. Come erlong, Mr.
Sawyer, if yeou want to see ther jamboree.”
“I’ll follow,” said Sawyer, and it was plain that he did not wish to be
seen with the actors.
As they approached the saloon on the corner a number of men were seen
loitering in front of it. One of them darted into the saloon.
“Gone ter tell Hooker!” gurgled Ephraim. “Jeewhillikins! I’m beginnin’
ter feel that I kainder wisht I was to hum on the farm!”
Next to the saloon a man was washing windows with a hose.
As the little party reached the corner, Joe Hooker came running out,
quickly followed by his brother and several of the toughs of the town.
“There he is!” cried Joe, pointing to Frank. “Now smash him, Sam! Yeou
said you would.”
The cowboy grinned viciously as his eyes rested on Frank. He placed
himself squarely in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Don’t let him get hold of you, Merriwell!” panted Dunton, who was pale
and unsteady. “He looks like a perfect devil!”
Frank said nothing.
“Hold on, hyar!” roared Sam Hooker, glaring at Merry. “You’re ther
galoot I’ve bin waitin’ fer!”
“Go for him, Sam!” cried the toughs. “Give it to the dude show chap!”
“Oh, I’ll make mincemeat of him,” promised the ruffian, advancing on
Merry. “I’ll pulverize him!”
Frank did not order him to keep off, for he knew it would be a waste of
breath. Instead of that, to the astonishment of Hooker and his gang, he
went straight at the fellow like a flash.
This was a movement entirely unexpected. The cowboy attempted to catch
hold of Merry, but Frank dodged aside, still advancing, struck the
fellow a blow on the elbow that whirled him sideways, and then gave him
one under the ear that made him stagger.
“Paste him, Sam!” howled Joe, beginning to dance.
The ruffian whirled back, but Merriwell had followed him closely, and
the blow Hooker struck was readily parried. Then Merry began to hammer
the fellow scientifically, following every advantage closely, and
keeping him going. Only once was Frank hit, and that was a weak blow,
for he jumped back in time to avoid the full force of the swinging
drive, which must have knocked him down had he not made the movement.
As Frank leaped back, the ruffian fancied things had turned his way,
and, uttering unprintable language, he tried to close in.
“Don’t let him get hold of you, Merriwell!” again panted Dunton, who was
shaking in every limb.
To the astonishment of everybody, Frank paid no heed to this, but
suddenly darted inside his assailant’s guard and grappled with him.
“Now I’ve got ye!” shouted the cowboy.
“Now Sam’ll break him!” yelled Joe Hooker, with satisfaction.
Then something happened that caused everybody to open his eyes.
The ruffian tried to crush the young athlete, but, by a wrestling trick,
Frank lifted him, flung his heels into the air, snapped him over his
hip, and sent him heavily to the solid walk.
These movements had carried them close to where the man who had been
washing windows in a dazed way, with the hose in his hands, the water
pouring from the nozzle.
In a twinkling, Merriwell caught the hose from the man’s hand and turned
the stream on Sam Hooker, who had risen to a sitting position.
“Whar is he!” the ruffian roared. “Has he run away? I’ll swaller——”
“Water!” laughed Frank.
Sizz—spat!—the stream from the hose struck Hooker full in the mouth,
drowning his words instantly.
The fellow was knocked flat on his back by the force of the water.
“Perhaps this will cool him off,” observed Merry.
The crowd of toughs began to realize what was happening to the terror of
the town, and they were astounded.
“Ther dude flammed him!”
“Sure thing!”
“Sam’s met his match!”
“You bet!”
“That’s Frank Merriwell!” cried one of the boys of the town. “If you
fellers have ever heard of him, you oughter know he can do up all the
Hookers in Missouri! He’s a honey cooler!”
Joe Hooker was dazed, for up to this meeting he had not realized that
his bully brother had met his match in a smooth-faced, boyish-looking
actor.
Even now, when the realization of the truth was beginning to force
itself on Joe, he was so infuriated because such a thing could be
possible that it made him crazy. Snarling and spitting like a wild cat,
he made a spring for Merry.
Quick as a flash, Frank turned the stream from Sam Hooker to his
brother. It struck Joe in the eyes, blinding him, staggering him. It
filled his mouth and forced its way down his throat. He gurgled and
choked, and then his heel caught and he fell flat on his back.
By this time Sam was able to sit up again, catching his breath and
rubbing the water out of his eyes.
“Oh, I’ll have his blood!” panted the cowboy. “This settles him! Whar is
he? Show him ter——”
He was trying to get out a revolver when Merry gave it to him again, and
over on his back he was knocked once more.
The spectators had been filled with wonder, but now they saw the
ludicrous side of the encounter, and they began to pound each other on
the back and shout with laughter.
“I sw’ar, it’s ther funniest thing I ever saw!” roared one.
“Think of Sam takin’ water like that!” shouted another.
“He’s swallered enough ter p’izen him a’reddy!” declared another.
“Bet he ain’t hed a bath afore in a year!” exclaimed a fourth.
And then, in chorus, they roared:
“A-haw! a-haw! a-haw!”
Ephraim Gallup executed a grotesque dance on the sidewalk.
“By gum! this is a reg’lar jamboree!” he giggled. “It oughter be an
advertisement fer ther show if Frank does ther bully of ther taown up
good.”
“It will be the wonder of the place,” declared Sawyer, the local stage
manager. “I don’t understand it now.”
Douglas Dunton showed his relief. Although he had agreed to stand by
Frank, Dunton had been decidedly frightened. Now he was beginning to
laugh.
Havener had not said much, but he was looking on in great satisfaction,
nodding his approval over what was happening.
Joe Hooker sat up, but Merry was giving Sam all he wanted just then, and
he paid very little attention to Joe.
The younger brother got onto his hands and knees, and then sprang to his
feet. He did not make more than two steps toward Merry, however, before
the stream of water struck him in the eyes once more.
This time it came unexpectedly, but Joe was not knocked down. He reeled
back, putting up his arm to protect his face.
Frank continued to pour the water upon him. Joe whirled back toward
Merry, but the water struck him in the back of the neck. He bent over,
and the stream beat under his coat, turning it up over his head. Then,
with his coat in that manner, Joe gave up and took to his heels, dusting
round the corner.
“Go it!” shouted the crowd, in merriment.
No one had offered to help the brothers. At first no one had imagined
Sam Hooker could need help in disposing of the boyish actor. When they
began to understand that the bully had met his match, they were so dazed
that no one made a move to help him. When the stream of water was turned
on him, the risibilities of the rough fellows were aroused, and they
shouted with laughter over the plight of the fellow upon whom they had
gazed in fear and awe a short time before.
As soon as a bully ceases to command respect, as soon as he is made
ridiculous, his prestige is gone. No one had dared laugh at Sam Hooker
before that. He had done the most grotesque things without causing
anybody to crack a smile. Now, however, they literally roared with
amusement.
Sam heard them laughing. At first it infuriated him, but that stream of
cold water cooled his rage swiftly. He got onto his hands and knees and
tried to rise. The water struck him again, sending him back to his hands
and knees. That was too much. Without realizing what a laughable
spectacle he presented, he scrambled on all fours for a place of safety.
He scampered round the corner after his brother, and Frank Merriwell was
left in possession of the field.