Frank Merriwells Races | Page 8

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