FORCED TO FIGHT.
Until the shadows began to deepen and night was close at hand, Chet lay
hidden in the thicket.
“I am getting what is due me,” he finally confessed. “No fellow ever
treated me better than Merriwell has. What a fool I have been! It’s too
late now—too late! I may as well go forth and confess. Let them hang me;
what do I care!”
Then the horror of the scaffold, the shadow of which seemed upon him,
made his blood run cold through all his body.
“They won’t hang me!” he half sobbed. “Why, they can’t! My father is a
rich man! He will save me! They will never hang the son of D. Roscoe
Arlington!”
But still, although he kept telling himself over and over that he would
escape such a fate, the benumbing fear of it would not leave him.
“What a disgrace it will be to my mother! And June—how can she bear it!
Poor June! Never any fellow had a better sister. But how have I treated
her! This very day I insulted her before Merriwell and Darrell. Oh, if I
could begin over again! But it is too late—too late!”
Then he noted that darkness was coming on, and the shadows added to his
terror.
“I can’t stay here any longer,” he said. “I must get out of the woods.”
Wearily he dragged himself to his feet and forced his way through the
thicket. Again the branches whipped against him and tore at his clothes.
At times, with savage rage, he snatched himself free from the clinging
twigs.
At last the darkness grew so great that the wretched lad feared he would
be unable to find his way out of the wood. This fear seemed to give him
new energy, and he plunged on and on, escaping at length from the
jungle-like thicket and finally coming to the edge of the timber.
In the west, where the sun had vanished, there was a faint, reddish
tinge as of a conflagration. Overhead the sky was dark and grim.
“There is the academy,” he murmured, as he saw gleaming lights in the
distance. “Shall I go back there? What shall I do? I might run away, but
it would do no good. They would overtake me. They would know then that I
was guilty. If I go back I may be able to bluff it through. What a fool
I was! Why didn’t I rob Merriwell of his trinkets and money and bury
them somewhere in the woods? Then they might think it was done by a
tramp. But it is too late for that now.”
It was difficult, indeed, for him to return to the academy, but he set
his teeth and started on a run. Across the fields he went, leaping the
fences. In this manner he finally came into the road not far from the
academy and unexpectedly ran fairly into a number of boys who were
walking along that road.
“Whoop!” cried one. “Whoever is this yere galoot? Whoever is this
rambling maverick?”
Chester was seized by several hands, but he attempted to break away.
“Let me alone!” he cried. “Mind your own business!”
“What?” roared the voice of Buckhart. “Chaw me up! I opine I recognize
that musical voice. See here, pard, here’s the fine gent you’re looking
for.”
Then Arlington came near swooning, for, in spite of the darkness, he saw
before him Dick Merriwell. And around Dick’s head there was a white
bandage.
“So it’s you!” exclaimed Dick, confronting his enemy. “And you are the
whelp who struck me down in the woods! I am looking for you!”
“You’re a liar!” instantly cried Chester. “I haven’t touched you!”
“Fighting talk, pard!” said Buckhart.
“Oh, yes!” sneered Chester, “you want to force a fight on me, do you?
That’s Merriwell’s game, is it? He has a lot of his friends with him,
and I am alone. I will fight him, but give me a fair show. Let me have
some of my friends with me. I will fight him any time.”
“I will meet you in Chadwick’s pasture in an hour,” said Dick.
“I will be there!” hotly retorted Chester. “And I will have some friends
with me.”
“I will bet a bunch of longhorns he won’t come,” said the Texan.
“You’re a liar, too!” blazed Chet. “I tell you I’ll be there!”
“We will take his word for it,” came quietly from Dick. “If he doesn’t
keep the appointment—well, we’ll know what to think of him then.”
Before the expiration of an hour Dick and his companions crossed
Chadwick’s pasture and descended into the little hollow where so many
encounters had taken place. With Merriwell were Buckhart, Smart,
Jolliby, and Tubbs.
“By Jim!” exclaimed Obediah, “I am hungry! Anybody got a pie in his
pocket?”
“You don’t mean a pup-pup-pup-pie?” asserted Jolliby. “What you need is
a dud-dud-dud-drink. How would some whisky gug-gug-gug-go?”
“I don’t drink whisky,” piped the fat boy. “It takes the coat off a
fellow’s stomach.”
“Worse than that,” chuckled Smart. “It takes the coat off a fellow’s
back.”
“I think this yere is a fool piece of business, anyhow!” growled the
Texan. “I’ll bet Arlington doesn’t show up. He certain knows he is about
to get a good trimming if he does, and he is not looking for that.”
“I think he will be here,” said Dick quietly.
“Well, it’s about time he was here now. Where is he?”
“Wait and sus-sus-sus-see,” advised Jolliby. “I didn’t suppose Dick
would fuf-fuf-fuf-fight him, anyhow.”
“I don’t know what you think I am made of, Jolliby,” said young
Merriwell grimly. “I have stood almost everything from Arlington, but
the time has passed for me to stand any more. He struck me down in the
wood. What could I do about it? If I reported it, it is possible he
would be expelled. In that case he would think me afraid of him. Even
now, because of his sister’s sake I have stood so much, he seems to
fancy I fear him. I have got to get that out of his head.”
Buckhart laughed.
“You will get it out of his head all right to-night if he shows up.”
The sound of voices now came to their ears, and several persons were
seen approaching through the darkness.
“Here they cuc-cuc-cuc-come!” whispered Jolliby.
There were four of them, as Dick and his friends saw when the
approaching party drew nearer. One fellow advanced quickly and spoke to
them.
“I see you’re waiting,” he said. “Arlington is ready, too.”
It was Mel Fraser.
“Yes, we’re waiting,” said Brad. “Let him strip and get into gear. We
will settle this thing in a hurry.”
“He is all ready without stripping,” asserted Fraser. “He don’t need to
take off his coat. Here he is.”
He made a motion toward one of his companions, who stepped out from the
others.
Dick tossed his coat aside and announced his readiness.
“Fly at it!” exclaimed Buckhart. “And may the best man win!”
A moment later the two met and the fight was on.
Although the moon was obscured by clouds, there was a faint, hazy light
that enabled the spectators, by pressing close, to watch the struggle.
“Get into it, pard!” growled Buckhart.
“Go for him, Arlington!” cried the companions of Dick’s antagonist. With
the bandage showing plainly about his head, Merriwell circled round his
enemy, moving to the left. No word came from the lips of the other lad.
There was a moment of sparring, and then Merriwell’s foe closed in
swiftly, leading with a blow at Dick’s head.
Dick ducked and tried to counter on the fellow’s body, but was blocked.
“That’s the stuff, Arlington!” shouted Fraser. “Keep him going! Keep
after him!”
During the next few moments Dick busied his antagonist to such an extent
that the fellow had no chance to keep after him. Indeed, it was with
considerable difficulty that he avoided the varied attacks made upon
him.
Nevertheless, his defense was so skillful that Merriwell was somewhat
astonished.
“Arlington has been taking lessons,” he decided. “This is not his style
of fighting.”
Finally Dick received a blow on the shoulder that jarred him slightly,
and the enemy sought to follow up the slight advantage thus gained. In
doing so, he left an opening that Merriwell improved, and a sudden cry
rose from the spectators, for, following the smack of a hard fist, one
of the fighters went down.
“It is Arlington, by Jim!” squeaked Tubbs. “Dick soaked him a good one
that time!”
“You bub-bub-bub-bet your life!” chattered Jolliby.
The fellow recovered in a twinkling and sprang to his feet. Dick was
waiting, and they went at it again with still greater fury. Round and
round they circled, their feet sounding thuddingly on the solid ground.
The spectators grew more and more excited. Buckhart was in a perfect
fever.
“Put your brand on him! Put your brand on him!” palpitated the Texan.
“Don’t hit him!” entreated Smart. “It would be a shame to hit him!”
“Keep him going, old man!” urged Fraser. “He’s up against the real thing
to-night.”
The fight was so fast and furious that it kept every spectator on edge.
Once or twice the circle was forced to fall back swiftly to get away
from the struggling lads. Several times Dick’s antagonist sought without
success to close with him, but seemed at last to accomplish his object.
“Down with him!” hissed Fraser.
But it was not Dick who went down. He managed to twist his opponent over
his hip and throw him heavily. Immediately he rose to his feet and
waited for the other to get up.
“Why didn’t you soak him when you had him?” asked Brad.
“I can’t hit a chap when he is down,” declared Dick.
“Give him the same chance at you and see what he will do!”
“That makes no difference to me.”
The fallen boy rose slowly, but was at Dick in a twinkling as soon as he
reached his feet. Apparently he sought to take Merriwell by surprise,
rushing unexpectedly and savagely. However, he was the one surprised,
for Merriwell’s hard fist struck him a blow that stopped him in his
tracks. His hands fell for a moment, and Buckhart palpitated:
“Now! now—put him out!”
Dick might have struck the final blow, but for some reason he held his
hand, giving the other time to recover.
After that, Merriwell’s enemy was wary and cautious for several seconds.
Dick followed him up and pressed the fight, but was given no good
opening for a telling blow.
“Waugh!” growled the Texan. “I certain don’t understand this yere pard
of mine any. Here that galoot soaks him on the head and knocks him
silly, but he continues to let him have more than an even show in this
go.”
“Dick always fuf-fuf-fuf-fights fair,” said Jolliby.
Merriwell’s foe seemed to recover rapidly, for soon he was once more
meeting Dick halfway, and the fight seemed fiercer than ever.
This kind of battle could not last long, for some time one or both of
the boys were bound to weaken. Plainly, it was a struggle in which
staying power must tell.
In the end Dick’s splendid condition and fine training told. His foe was
breathing heavily, although persisting in the same fierce style of
fighting.
Several times Dick tried to end the encounter with a telling blow, but
the skill of the other chap enabled him to avoid this until his wind
began to fail. Finally Merriwell forced his enemy to retreat and kept
close after him.
“It’s all over!” half laughed Buckhart, as Dick struck Arlington
repeatedly. “There he goes!”
Even as the words were spoken, Dick landed a sledge-hammer blow on the
jaw of his antagonist, and Arlington went down like a log.
“I knew it!” declared the Texan.
The fallen chap did not stir.
“Give me a match,” cried Dick. “Quick—give me a match!”
Some one thrust a match into his fingers, and he struck it, protecting
the blaze with his hands and throwing the light full on the face of the
chap who lay prone on the ground.
“Look!” he cried. “Here’s the Chester Arlington I’ve been fighting!”
Then there were many exclamations of astonishment, for it was seen that
the fellow was not Arlington at all, although he wore Arlington’s
clothes and was built very much the same as Chester.
“Dern my picter!” piped Obediah Tubbs, in astonishment. “What kind of a
gol-dinged game is this?”
“Cuc-cuc-cuc-crooked work!” burst from Jolliby. “Where is Mel Fraser?”
But Fraser had backed away, and now he suddenly took to his heels and
fled.
“Here, you!” growled one of the fallen chap’s companions. “Let him
alone! We will take care of him!”
“Whoop!” roared Buckhart.
“You will take care of him, will you? Well, I opine we will take care of
you. Get into them, fellows!”
Instantly he went at them, and he was followed by Jolliby and Tubbs, who
were fierce with rage and indignation at the trick.
The young toughs could not stand before such an assault, and they, like
Fraser, turned and fled. Tubbs would have pursued, but he tripped and
fell heavily, upon which all stopped, permitting the fleeing boys to
escape.
“Well, of all the low-down tricks I ever heard of this takes the prize!”
declared the Texan. “What do you think of it, pard? It’s mighty queer
you didn’t tumble.”
“I did,” said Dick.
“When?”
“Some time before the finish. I saw his style of fighting was not like
Arlington’s.”
“Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you let us know?”
“It was too late then. There was but one thing to do, and I did it.
Arlington’s proxy got what was coming to Chester.”
“Hang a sus-sus-sus-sneak!” cried Chip. “Confound a cuc-cuc-cuc-coward!
That’s what Arlington is! He didn’t dare fuf-fuf-fuf-fight you!”
“Oh, don’t say such hard things about him!” half sobbed Smart. “See how
kind and self-sacrificing he was. He permitted another fellow to take
his place and enjoy the pleasure of this little scrap. Wasn’t that
splendid of him? Wasn’t it perfectly fine?”
“I hope this chap isn’t hurt much,” said Dick; and as he uttered the
words the fellow stirred and attempted to sit up.
“By Jim! I guess he is all right,” said Tubbs.
“Dud-dud-dud-do you know him, Dick?” asked Chip.
“I have seen him. He is well known in town. His name is Moran.”
“Yes, that’s my name,” acknowledged the fellow. “Where are the others?
Where’s my gang?”
“The whole bunch stampeded,” answered Brad.
Moran was surprised and disgusted.
“They’re a fine lot,” he muttered. “Look here! what sort of a slugger
did I go against? Arlington told me the fellow would be easy.”
“Well, you’re a fine specimen,” growled the Texan. “Whatever were you
trying to celebrate?”
“I got the coin, and I reckon I earned it, too,” was the retort.
“So Arlington paid you for this job, did he?” questioned Dick.
“Sure thing! But I made a mistake. I put the price too low.”
Merriwell’s indignation was unbounded.
“You’re lucky to get off so easy,” he declared.
“Easy!” exclaimed Moran. “Why, you t’umped me up in fine style. Where
did you learn to handle your dukes that way? I am the champion of
Fardale, but you’re too much for me.”
“Dern your picter!” said Tubbs. “What you need is a coat of tar and
feathers.”
“No,” said Jolliby. “That’s wh-wh-wh-what Arlington needs.”
Moran slowly rose to his feet.
“Anyhow, I have got a good suit of clothes out of him,” he said. “That
will help pay the extra for the slugging I went against. But that don’t
settle it; he will hear from me again. He lied to me; you bet I will
soak him for it, too!”
“Now, that’s where you’re talking, stranger,” nodded Brad. “If you agree
to soak him good and plenty we will let you off; otherwise, it’s up to
us to finish this job.”
“Let me alone and see if I don’t put it all over him the first chance I
get. I swear I will, or my name is not Tom Moran!”
“Please don’t hit him,” entreated Smart. “That would be too bad.”
“Oh, I won’t hit him,” growled the fellow. “I will just knock the
stuffing out of him!”
“All right,” said Dick. “We’ll let you go with that understanding.”