CHAPTER XXVIII.

A RASCAL AND HIS TOOLS.

Jabez Lynch had been boiling with passion when he challenged Hal Darrell to fight him in Chadwick’s pasture. In that condition Jabez would have put up a hot fight, but afterward his blood cooled and he regretted that he had made the challenge.

"I was a fool!" he told himself. "The fellow can scrap some, and he may mark me in the dark. I should have found some other way to get even for his blow."

The more he thought about it the greater became his regret. He did not wish to meet Darrell, but he knew he would be regarded as a coward if he failed to appear. Then he set about trying to devise some method of escaping the encounter without seeming to back down. After a while, he fancied he had hit upon the proper idea.

That evening Jabez found an excuse which gained him permission to go to the village. Dick Merriwell had likewise obtained leave, and in town Dick saw Jabez talking with two fellows who looked like sailors, and were plainly tough characters. Lynch was speaking to them in a confidential manner when he happened to observe Merriwell, and at once he gave the men the tip and moved away.

"Something’s up," decided Dick, his curiosity aroused by the suspicious actions of the fellow. He thought of following Lynch, but decided to keep his eyes on the sailors.

This did not prove a hard task for the boy, who had been trained by Old Joe Crowfoot in the art. He saw the sailors strike out toward The Harbor, and, although it seemed like time wasted, he followed.

At The Harbor was an old house that had been turned into a saloon. The sailors entered the place. Of course Dick had no thought of going in there, but five minutes later he was crouching beneath a broken window, from which shone a light.

A look through the window had shown him the sailors within, and they were talking to a third man, quite as rough as themselves. The trio were seated around a table. An old woman came in and brought drinks for the three.

Dick felt a desire to hear what they were saying, but, for a time, they spoke in low tones, so he caught only an occasional word. What he heard, however, was enough to convince him that some sort of deviltry was afoot. Several times the old woman was summoned to bring drinks, and, at last, under the influence of the liquor, the men began to speak louder.

"It’s easy," declared one, who had a black beard.

"The fellow will give us ten each, and we can knock out the lubber without any trouble at all. He’s only a boy."

"Why didn’t you an’ Jim do it alone?" asked the third man.

"Because the kid insisted that we was to get another. We said we’d do it, but he said the feller might have one chap with him, and he was afraid the right one’d get away."

"Come on, Bill," urged the black-bearded man’s companion. "It’s an easy way of earnin’ a tenner."

"Oh, I don’t mind," said Bill. "But why does the kid want this here job done?"

"Got some kind of a hunch agin’ the chap he wants knocked out," explained Jim.

"We may git inter a scrape an’ run foul o’ the law."

"No danger."

"If the chap should recognize us——"

"How can he? It’ll be pitch-dark, and we’ll lay him out stiff afore he knows what’s hit him."

"A fine piece of business!" thought the boy under the window. "I wonder if I’m the one they are to lay out."

"How are we to know just where to strike him?"

"Kid says he’ll show us. We’re to meet him in an hour. Let’s have another drink and come on."

So the old woman was called in to bring more drinks, after which the ruffians prepared to depart.

Little did the slightly intoxicated sailors know that they were being followed by a shadow that made no sound, yet kept close enough not to let them get away. Back to the main part of the town went the ruffians. After entering another saloon and having drinks, they sallied forth and met Jabez Lynch, who seemed to be waiting for them.

Toward the academy they went. At a point on the road they stopped, and Dick heard Jabez talking to them. It took the shadow but a few moments to slip forward to a point where he could hear what was being said.

"He’ll come along this way," said Jabez. "It’s probable there will be one chap with him, but it’s certain not more than one, for they always go to Chadwick’s pasture by twos or singly, so that they will not attract attention."

"Well, how are we to know when ther right chap comes along?" questioned one of the sailors.

"I’ll be down the road a short distance, and I’ll whistle after he has passed me—so."

Lynch gave a peculiar whistle.

"That will be the signal to jump the fellow, or the two fellows, who come along. See?"

"That’s plain enough, kid. An’ we’re to knock both of ’em stiff?"

"Sure. Don’t fail. Put both of them out, and fix them so they’ll be likely to go to the hospital for a few days."

"Done! When do we get our sawbucks? Better cough in advance, for——"

"Oh, you can trust me."

"Mebbe; but we don’t propose to. Cough up now, kid, or we quit right here."

"That’s the stuff," said another of the men. "Pay in advance for a job like this."

"’Cause we may have ter jump outer this town right spry, you know. We’re liable to sail any day."

"All right," said Jabez, somewhat reluctantly; "but don’t you fail me."

"No danger, kid. You has our word of honor."

"Well, I’ve got just thirty dollars with me. It’s three tenners, and here they are."

Lynch handed the bills over in the dark, but one of the men struck a match to examine the money and make sure it was all right. The light of the match flared on the faces of the quartet, and the watching lad could not help observing that Jabez looked as much the rascal as any of his chosen tools.

"Are you satisfied?" demanded Lynch, with a smile. "I use you square, and now you must me. I had to touch up a fellow for that money, and leave my watch for security. Lost all my money betting on a football-game last week."

"Reckon they’re all right, kid. Now, we’re to squat right here, are we?"

"Get into those cedars and lay low till you hear me whistle."

"It’s rather chilly to-night, kid. I hope ther feller shows up pretty soon."

"It may be an hour, or even a little more. Keep still till then, but be ready when you hear me whistle. I’m going down the road. If others come ahead of the one I want you to do up, don’t mind them, but keep out of sight."

Having given these instructions to his tools, Lynch slipped away.

It did not take Dick Merriwell long to decide to remain right there and see the finish of the affair. After a while the dark forms of the sailors disappeared in the bushes, where they proceeded to seek to keep out the cold by frequently imbibing from a bottle one of them had brought.

Dick slipped down into a little hollow where a boulder shut off the sharp night wind, and there, with his hands in his pockets and his collar turned up, he waited.

The time passed slowly, but the boy had learned patience from his Indian tutor, and he did not fret. Finally he heard voices drawing nearer, and two persons left the highway, jumped over the fence, and started away across the rough clearing.

Dick recognized them by their voices. They were Big Bob Singleton and Tod Hubbard.

"Singleton is on hand at all fights," thought Dick. "He gets round to see fair play."

Singleton and Hubbard passed on and their voices died out in the direction of the "Bloody Hollow" in Chadwick’s pasture.

There was another brief period of waiting, and then down the road sounded the signal—that peculiar whistle!

Instantly Dick Merriwell was on the alert, his blood leaping and his nerves tingling. The victim was coming!

Dick knew that there were to be brisk "doings" around that locality in a short time, and he had decided to take a hand in the affair. He did not propose to remain idle and see anybody waylaid and assaulted by some hired ruffians.

In a moment he had unbuttoned his coat. As a dark form vaulted the fence, Dick flung that coat aside. Then he crouched, ready to leap forward.

The unsuspecting fellow started to pass close to the bushes where the ruffians were hidden. Of a sudden, out sprang the three ruffians, confronting the startled chap.

"Give it to them!" cried Dick Merriwell. "They’re going to do you up! Soak ’em!"

At the same time he made a dash forward. The ruffians had rushed at their intended victim. One of them was armed with a sand-bag, and he tried to lay out the fellow they had been hired to slug.

Warned by Dick’s cry, the chap dodged the blow; but, even then, he was not certain it was not some kind of cadet joke.

"You fellows quit!" he cried. "If you don’t you’ll get hurt! I didn’t come along for this, and I’m no plebe."

"Give it to them!" cried Dick again. "They’re paid to do you! Look out!"

One of the sailors had clutched the victim from behind and was seeking to hold him while the chap with the sand-bag got in his work. Fortunately the liquor had affected the trio enough, so they were not very certain in their movements.

Then Dick Merriwell took a hand, and his hard fist caught under the ear of the thug who was holding the intended victim. The blow was hard and sure, and the fellow would have been knocked flying had he not clung to the chap he had grasped. Both were sent staggering, and then the unknown broke away.

"Jump them!" again urged Dick. "They’re paid to do you! I heard the bargain!"

Then the other woke up, and the two sailed into the ruffians in earnest. This was quite unexpected by the sailors, but they had taken enough liquor to make them ready for any kind of a fight, and they did not quit on finding they had tackled more than they anticipated.

"Soak ’em, Bill!" roared one. "They’re a couple o’ kids. Give ’em thunder!"

"Don’t get caught from behind again!" cried Dick to the fellow he was aiding. "Back to back! I’ll stand by you! We can do these drunken thugs!"

"All right!" came the reply, as the one attacked sailed into the fight and managed to thump one of the ruffians in the stomach, doubling him up.

Then followed a furious encounter, for the sailors were determined to earn their money, and they had no thought of being routed by two boys. Being engaged in front by the biggest fellow of the trio, who seemed to know something about the science of boxing, Dick received a heavy blow on the temple, which dropped him to one knee.

"He’s down!" snarled the fellow who had struck him. "Now we’ve got him!"

But at this point the chap Dick had hastened to aid broke away from the third ruffian, saw Dick’s peril, and leaped to his assistance, skilfully tripping one of them and kicking the other in the side.

"Thank you," said Dick, springing up, although the blow had made things seem to swim around him for a moment. "Now, back to back. We can take care of these dogs."

So, for the moment the lads stood back to back, meeting the renewed assault of the thugs, two of whom engaged Dick, while the one with the sand-bag went at the other fellow.

Dick was having his hands full, when he heard a cry that was half a groan, and felt a body strike against him. Instantly he understood what had happened. The other fellow had been downed.

Nine boys out of ten would have taken to their heels in such a fix and tried to get away, but Dick did not. He made a sidelong leap, and was just in time to avoid being dropped by a blow from the sand-bag.

A glance showed him that he was left for the time to fight the three ruffians. If he did not meet the emergency, if he fled, the sailors would accomplish their dastardly work of knocking out a Fardale cadet.

Then Dick Merriwell became a perfect whirlwind. It seemed impossible for one of the three sailors, or the three combined, to follow him up and get a telling blow at him. He leaped here, there, to the right, to the left, forward, backward, and his arms shot out now and then, his hard fists counting on the heads of the ruffians.

He was pantherish in his movements. When a thug sought to clutch him from behind he was away in a twinkling. When they struck at him, he dodged like a flash. When it was least expected, he sprang in and delivered sharp blows. He could handle his feet, too, as the rascals found out to their sorrow. He kicked first one and then another of them.

The ruffians began to curse, but still they continued to follow the leaping lad about. Dazed and partly stunned by a glancing blow he had received, the other fellow rose to his elbow and stared weakly at the struggle. He was amazed by the manner in which the pantherish lad fought the three ruffians, keeping them all engaged. A feeling of awe and admiration seized him. Three times he tried to rise and take part in the battle, and three times he fell back with a strange weakness that made him helpless.

Still Dick Merriwell fought on like a fury. Thrice he knocked down the smaller of the three thugs. As many times he sent the big man staggering before heavy blows. And he gave the other jabs and kicks that made him snarl and curse.

It was a grand fight against odds, and the chap who had been knocked down felt that young Merriwell was a wonder.

"I must help him!" he panted. "I must!"

Then he set his teeth and made a fourth attempt to get up. The ground seemed unsteady beneath him, but just then he saw one of the men get hold of Dick from behind.

In an instant the chap whom Dick had warned grew steady and rose. He saw the trio close in on Merriwell, and then he plunged into the battle again.

It was fortunate that he recovered just as he did, for the ruffians had caught Merriwell at a disadvantage. They might have succeeded in downing him, but the other came rushing into the fray once more, striking right and left.

This diversion gave Dick a chance to break away, and, with a singular laugh, he resumed the unequal struggle. That laugh—it was like the laugh of Frank Merriwell when beset by peril and when fighting against odds. It was full of recklessness, and there was something about it that made a foe hesitate in amazement.

"Ha! ha! ha!" it sounded. "Why, this is real sport! Get at them, pardner! I reckon we’re enough for a set of curs like these! How do you like it, coyote? Ha! ha! ha? Oh, ha! ha! ha! ha!"

That laugh sounded strange and eery in the darkness, and it made the ruffians pause a moment.

"He’s the devil!" declared one of them.

"He’s northin’ but a kid," grated the big fellow. "At ’em again!"

But Dick had not waited a moment, and he managed to get in another knock-down blow during their hesitation.

“Put them out of business!” he urged, getting after another one. "Finish the whelps!"

Inspired by his example, the other chap went into the fight once more with a vim that counted, and the two boys would have been more than a match for the rascals had not one of the latter been armed with the sand-bag.

Again the fellow with the sand-bag succeeded in hitting the one Dick had aided, knocking him down. At this moment dark forms were seen coming over the fence, and a voice exclaimed:

"Why, they must be fighting here, instead of at the regular place."

"Help!" called Dick. "Give us a hand! Three thugs have tried to do us up!"

Then the dark forms came hurrying forward.

"Sneak, mates!" growled one of the sailors. "The jig is up! We’d best git out o’ this in a hurry!"

Then the thugs took to their heels.

"Run ’em down!" cried Dick. "They’re ruffians! Don’t let them get away!"

The cadets who had leaped the fence rushed away in pursuit of the sailors, while Dick knelt beside his fallen comrade of the terrible encounter.

"Hurt bad, partner?" he asked, lifting the head of the other.

The injured fellow drew a deep breath and answered thickly:

"Bumped pretty hard, but I think I’m all right. You’re a dandy, old man, whoever you are. How did it happen, anyway?"

"I heard a sneaking cur hire those dogs to do you, and so I waited to give you a lift."

"Who hired them—who was it?"

"A nice young chap by the name of Lynch."

"Jabez Lynch?"

"Yes."

"The sneak! He’s the dirtiest fellow at Fardale!"

"I think you are right. How do you feel now?"

"Weak. I was to fight him to-night in Chadwick’s pasture. That’s why he did it. But I’ll be there—I’ll meet him if it——"

The injured lad tried to rise, but dropped back limply, for the effort had caused his head to whirl.

"Oh, the sneak!" he groaned. "He has fixed me so I can’t be on hand! The time will pass! He’ll claim I failed to appear! I can’t fight him!"

"Then," said Dick, "it will give me pleasure to take your place and meet Mr. Lynch. I think I can polish him off."

"You?"

"Yes. Why not?"

"Why should you?"

"Because you can’t do it now. Because I have a little score against him."

"But who are you? I believe I know your voice! I believe I know you! Is it possible——"

The injured lad began to choke in his bewilderment. Up to that point he had been too excited to seek to recognize Dick.

And Dick—well, it must be confessed that he had not been cool, and he had not recognized the other. Now, however, he started back a little, leaving the fellow resting on his elbow and facing him.

In silence the two lads stared at each other through the darkness. They heard the fellows who had pursued the ruffians returning, but still for some moments they did not move.

At last Dick felt in his pockets and found a match. In a moment he had struck it, holding it so the light fell on the face of the fellow opposite.

It was Hal Darrell!

Then a gust of wind blew out the match, and they were again in darkness.

"You?" choked Darrell.

"You?" said Dick coldly.

"I didn’t know," spoke Hal.

"No more did I," confessed Dick.

"If you had, you might not have been so ready to aid me. You would not!"

"I ask no credit for it, Darrell. I did not once ask myself who the fellow was that Lynch had hired the ruffians to soak. I simply decided to take part in the scrap. That’s how it happened."

"I’m sorry it was you!" exclaimed Darrell bitterly.

"And I’m sorry you were the one. We can’t help it now. But I have a favor to ask of you."

"A favor?"

"Yes. Will you grant it?"

"I don’t know. What is it?"

"Let me fight Lynch to-night in your place."

"No, no—hang him, no! I’m going to——"

Darrell tried to rise, but again he dropped back, gasping:

"My head swims, and I’m so weak!"

Dick did not offer to touch him, but he swiftly said:

"You must do it! Some of the fellows are coming right here. They will help you reach the Hollow, but you’ll be in no condition to fight when you get there. I’m all right. I’ll give Jabez Lynch what he deserves. Don’t refuse, Darrell! Do me this favor, Darrell, and we’ll be square. You’ll owe me nothing then!"

"All right," said Hal. "If I can’t fight him when we get there—understand. If I can, no one else shall."

"If you can’t——"

"Then you may."

"It’s a bargain. Not a word about him to the others—not a word till after the fight."

"All right."

Then Brad Buckhart, Ted Smart, and Toby Kane, who had pursued the fleeing ruffians, came up.

"The varmints got away," said Buckhart regretfully. "They stampeded into a piece of timber over yonder, and it was too dark to trail them. What was the merry old rumpus, anyhow?"

Dick explained in a few words.

"What a lovely time!" exclaimed Smart. "It must have been like a church raffle. How I should enjoy to be jumped on by three big, brawny seamen! It would be such fun to have them thump me round! Oh, dear! I’m sorry they didn’t do it to me!"

By this time, with assistance, Darrell was able to stand, but he was pretty limp.

"Well, I don’t reckon you’re going to be in shape to put up much of a fight," said Buckhart. "You’d better go back to the academy and do your fighting some other night."

"No!" grated Hal. "I’ll meet Lynch if I can get to the spot."

"But," said Dick, at once, "if he’s not in condition to fight he has agreed to let me take his place."

"Oh, my!" said Smart. "I know you’re frightened to death! How can you think of scrapping with such a perfectly lovely gent as Jabez Lynch? You are real mean, so there!"

In a short time they set off toward Bloody Hollow, which they reached in due time. But, although they waited long, and about twenty cadets gathered there to witness the fight, Jabez Lynch failed to appear.