CHAPTER XXIX.

THE FIGHT ON THE ENGINE.

Frank had been taken by surprise at the sudden movement of the infuriated engineer. He had not thought Hicks would dare attack him in such a manner, and thus he was thrown down in the bottom of the cab, with the train running at forty miles an hour.

Old Joe had every advantage, for he had fastened one hand on Frank’s throat, and he was strong. The glare in his eyes as he raised the wrench was that of a maniac.

Merriwell knew his life was in danger, and it was a good thing for him that he was not stunned. Like a flash he squirmed aside, for all of the weight of the man.

Bang! the wrench struck the floor on the very spot where Frank’s head had been a moment before.

The blow would have crushed Frank’s skull like an eggshell had it landed.

“Drat ye!” shouted the engineer, again lifting the wrench. “I’ll do it this time!”

Frank could not speak, for the fingers of the man were crushing into his throat. He could not breathe, and a blur was beginning to come over his eyes. He knew that blur might prevent him from dodging the next blow, and a desperate sensation seemed to burst through his heart.

“Heaven help me!”

He did not utter the words aloud, for he could not, but it was an inward cry.

Then, succeeding in getting one hand free, he reached upward and clutched something.

It was old Joe’s wrist.

In a blind way he had stopped the second blow, and, realizing this instantly, he held on for dear life.

“No, ye don’t,” snarled the man, as he tried to wrench away. “I’ve got ye, and I’ll fix ye!”

Frank held on, although the pressure of those fingers on his throat was awful to endure, and it seemed that colored fires were bursting in his brain. Black shadows and bright lights flitted before him, and, through a haze as of blood and smoke, he caught glimpses of the fiendish face of the mad engineer. The eyes of the man seemed to pierce him like knives.

Then, with his other hand, Frank tore at the fingers which were shutting off his wind and robbing him of strength and reason. He pulled those fingers up till he could get one gasping breath, and then they seemed to close down tighter than ever.

The agony was awful, but through it all Frank tried to keep his wits, and he succeeded.

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the engineer.

That laugh sounded far away, but it was full of dreadful meaning. It was the laugh of a murderous maniac.

It seemed that old Joe had gone crazy in one instant, and surely he had the strength of a madman.

“I’ll kill ye!” grated the man, triumphantly. “I’ll tell them how ye attacked me, and I was forced to do it.”

Frank set his fingers around the wrist of the man, turned his head to one side, and made a last desperate wrench.

It seemed to Merry that his windpipe would be torn out by those iron fingers, but he did not give up, for that meant certain death. He dragged the hand away, and breathed again with a horrible gasping sound, as if he were dying.

But now he held both hands of the man for a moment, and, when Joe wrenched one of them away, Frank fought to keep it from getting his throat again.

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” the man kept snarling.

Then, with a sudden change, he tore free the hand that held the wrench. A second later he struck again at Frank’s head.

With his arm Frank warded off that blow. He gave a squirm and a twist that threw the man partly off, but he was unable to get on top as he desired.

Around over the bottom of the cab squirmed the two, the man trying to end it with one blow, while the boy fought for his life.

Onward thundered the engine, dragging the long train of cars. There was no warning whistle as a crossing was approached, and the bell remained silent.

An old farmer was about to drive over the crossing when the train thundered down on him.

“Whoa, Betsey!” he shouted, yanking his horse back on its haunches, much to the surprise of the docile old creature. “Waal, gol darn that train! Why didn’t it toot? There’s a law fer----”

He stopped short as the locomotive thundered past, and then he rose up in his wagon, his eyes as large as saucers, and his jaw dropping on his breast.

“Jee-roo-sa-lum!” he gasped. “They was fightin’ in there!”

He had caught a glimpse of the terrible battle going on in the cab of the locomotive, and it made his hair stand.

Frank began to feel that he was getting some of his strength back, for all that it was necessary to make such a furious struggle to keep his enemy from accomplishing his mad purpose.

Hicks was literally frothing at the mouth. He seemed to grow worse as the struggle continued, and he was baffled repeatedly.

Out of the cab they rolled, and were fairly on the coal in the tender. Three times Frank almost succeeded in getting on top and pinning Hicks down.

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” the engineer panted.

Not a word came from Frank. He was not wasting his breath in such a manner.

At last Merry got hold of the wrench, and then the struggle turned on the possession of the weapon. Old Joe set his teeth in the back of the youth’s hand, but Frank struck him a terrible blow between the eyes with his clinched fist.

That blow was a fortunate one, for it seemed to daze the crazy engineer, although he still fought on.

A moment later Frank succeeded in tearing the wrench away, and he gave it a fling that sent it off the engine.

Then Merry’s confidence came back to him. It had seemed that he might fail and be killed, but now he was sure that he would conquer the man.

Although he was swift as thought in all his movements, he was cool now, and everything he did counted.

He saw an opportunity to dash Hicks’ head back against the iron edge of the tender, and he did it, cutting a gash in the man’s scalp. Blood began to flow.

Frank’s throat had been torn by the finger nails of his enemy, and the two presented a grimy, gory appearance.

“Oh, curse you!” gasped Hicks. “I’ll do it yet.”

“I think not,” said Frank, as he gave the man a flip.

Then he rose to the top for the first time since the encounter had begun.

But Hicks was hard to hold, and he came near getting out from under the youth in a twinkling.

Merry grasped the man’s ears, one with each hand, lifted his head from the floor and banged it down with a thump.

Old Joe screamed with pain and rage.

They had rolled back into the cab, which was rocking and swaying as it plunged along over an uneven bit of road. Around curves whizzed the engine, with the long train reeling along behind.

Frank wondered that some of the train hands had not noticed they were passing crossings without whistling and did not come forward to investigate.

Merry did not wish to severely injure the crazy engineer, but the man fought on so desperately that it became evident something must be done to subdue him.

Again Frank caught him by the ears and banged his head down on the floor. Old Joe groaned and snapped at his antagonist’s wrists as a mad dog snaps at everything within reach.

Bang! bang! bang!

Frank kept it up, having resolved to jar the senses out of the man.

Hicks did not beg, but, after a time, he lay there stunned, so that Merriwell was able to open the box seat and get out some stout pieces of rope, with which he tied old Joe’s hands behind his back. Before this was fully accomplished the man recovered and tried to resume the fight, but Frank was able to handle him then.

Merry did not stop till the engineer was tied so securely that there was no danger of his being able to free himself.

“There!” sighed Merry, with relief, “I think that’ll hold you for a while.”

Then he blew a signal that brought the conductor hurrying over the top of the cars to see what was the matter.