Kitabı oku: «Dick Merriwell Abroad: or, The Ban of the Terrible Ten», sayfa 10
CHAPTER XX. – THE OATH OF TERESA
Fearing she might do something rash in her distress and occasional spells of delirium, Dick and Brad took turns watching over Teresa that night.
The girl was given one of the three rooms taken by the professor and the boys in a private house. It was useless to urge her to retire. With the horror of what had happened, upon her, and in great fear that Mullura would find her, she kept her clothes on and slept on the outside of the bed. The door between that room and the adjoining one, in which the boys remained that they might be near her, was left slightly ajar at her request.
It was long past midnight before she slept at all. When they peered in, they discovered her lying staring up at the ceiling, her face pale and her lips moving, as if in prayer.
“Pard,” said Brad, “she sure is a right pretty girl.”
“She is,” agreed Dick. “But you mustn’t forget Nadia Budthorne, old man.”
“Now quit!” remonstrated the Texan soberly. “No danger that I’ll get smashed on this girl, partner. My sympathy for her is aroused a heap, that’s all.”
“When a fellow becomes very sympathetic for a pretty girl, he’s liable to fall in love with her. I fancy your sympathy was aroused for Nadia, to begin with.”
“Well, I don’t judge it was a case of sympathy between you and June Arlington.”
“She certainly deserves sympathy,” said Dick. “Think of her fine brother!”
“I don’t want to think of him!” growled the Texan. “Of all onery coyotes, he certain is the worst!”
“He’s about as bad as they make ’em,” nodded Dick.
“And to think that you even fancied there could be any good in him! Long ago you could have turned him out of Fardale by speaking a word, but you let up on him until at last he drove you out. Pard, I say fair and open that I like you a-plenty, but I do think you made a mistake with Arlington. You must know it now.”
Dick was silent for some moments.
“Perhaps you are right,” he finally confessed. “I suppose you are. But I had rather make a mistake by being too generous than to make one in the opposite direction. It isn’t natural for me to be easy with an enemy. I love revenge. But I took my brother for my model. I’m not sorry, either. I think I have changed my revengeful nature to a certain degree. The best friend Frank has in the world, Bart Hodge, was originally his bitterest enemy. Had Frank been revengeful, Hodge might have been ruined. He says so himself. Even if Frank were to make a hundred mistakes in generosity, that one instance – that one good result – would more than outweigh them all. Had I been revengeful, I should have fought Hal Darrell to the bitter end. Such a struggle between us must have been disastrous for one of us at Fardale. I became satisfied that there was little chance that Arlington would reform, and, after becoming thus satisfied, I continued to be lenient with him. You know I gave my promise to his sister, and I couldn’t go back on my word.”
“She must be a whole lot sore with herself for exacting such a promise. Wonder what she thinks about it now?”
“I don’t know. I’ll know some time. But Arlington is not going to triumph in the end. I shall return to Fardale. We’re both going back with the professor. Then it will be my day.”
“And I sure hope you make the most of it. If you get your innings, it will be up to you to rub it into Arlington good and hard.”
This led them to speculating about what was taking place at the old school while they were traveling in foreign lands. They remained talking in low tones until finally, on peering into the next room, it was found that Teresa had fallen asleep.
Brad went to bed, with the understanding that he was to be called at a certain hour for the purpose of remaining on guard during the latter part of the night. Already Professor Gunn was snoring in his room.
Buckhart was soon sleeping. About an hour later Dick heard a low, moaning sound coming from the girl’s room.
He hastened to the door.
Teresa was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped over her heart, staring fixedly at the wall, the moaning sound issuing from her pale lips. Merriwell lost no time in reaching her side.
“What is it?” he asked. “Is there anything I can do, Teresa?”
“Look!” she whispered. “I see him – I see my brother, dead on the stairs! Nicola Mullura has killed him!”
“There, there!” said the boy, soothingly, trying his best to speak her language so she would understand. “You must sleep – you must try to forget it for a while.”
Night passed and morning came, and a great change had come over Teresa. She even greeted her friends with a smile!
“I am glad to see you feel better, Teresa,” said Dick.
“I do feel better, good friend. I am almost happy now.”
“Great horn spoon!” muttered Brad. “And she saw her brother done to death last night! Trouble runs off these Venetians like water off a duck.”
They had breakfast, and through it all the girl maintained the same unnatural light and lively manner.
After breakfast she suggested that, in order to bring no further peril on them, she should depart.
“Not at all!” cried Zenas. “You must remain right here. I am going to the authorities. I am going to inform them all about this band of Ten. I’ll know if they will permit such a thing in Venice. They must bestir themselves! It is high time.”
“Then you may leave me here,” said Teresa eagerly.
At the first opportunity, young Merriwell called Brad into one of the other rooms.
“Brad, I want you to remain here and keep watch over Teresa,” he said. “She is not herself, and may do something rash. Professor Gunn and I are going to see the authorities. Then we’re going to see that a search is made for the body of Reggio. I don’t believe it will be found, for I have an idea that the assassins cast it into the water, and the tide has carried it far out to sea before this. Still it is our duty to have a search made for it.”
“Sure as shooting.”
“You’ll watch her closely, Brad?”
“She may object some, but I’ll do my prettiest, Dick.”
“Good! Now, I have to explain to her and urge her to remain here until we bring back some sort of a report.”
Teresa frowned and shook her head when he told her of the plan.
“I want no one to stay,” she said. “You shall all go.”
“Oh, no, no!” put in Professor Gunn. “We couldn’t think of that, my dear – couldn’t think of it. It wouldn’t be proper. Bradley will remain here to protect you from peril of any sort, and I assure you that he is a brave and noble lad. I do not think I quite understand him at school, but since seeing that he is brave as a lion and generous to a fault, I appreciate him fully.”
“Thank you, professor,” said the Texan. “You’re some complimentary this morning.”
“But not flattering. The truth is never flattery if it is spoken in the right spirit. I am proud to pay this tribute to your fine qualities. I shall be proud to do so before the entire school when we return to Fardale.”
“Oh, Jerusalem! don’t do that, professor!” gasped Buckhart, appalled. “I wouldn’t have you for a barrel of money!”
“Eh? Wouldn’t? Why not?”
“Why, I’d certain take to the tall timber on the jump if you did it. I’d hunt a hole and stay there till the fellows forgot it. They would guy me to death.”
“Would they?” cried Zenas, surprised and displeased. “Now, don’t you think anything of the sort! I’d like to know of them trying it.”
“But you wouldn’t know, you see.”
“You might tell me. It would be your duty to tell me.”
“People do not always do their duty in this world.”
The old pedagogue was surprised and puzzled. He had not fancied Buckhart a modest boy, but now, of a sudden, he realized that the Texan was genuinely modest in a way.
“We’ll say no more about it now, Bradley,” he said gravely. “I believe I am beginning to understand you more and more. You are a very singular lad – very.”
In spite of Teresa’s objections, Brad was left to look out for her, while Dick and the professor departed.
More than two hours later they returned. They had succeeded in reporting to the authorities, but their tale had been received with such apparent incredulity that both were vexed and angered. They had received a promise that the matter should be investigated. More than that, an official had accompanied them to the home of the Tortoras.
On arriving there they found the broken door had been restored and repaired, although not all the signs of the attack upon it had been hidden. There was no blood on the steps outside the door, nor on the stairs where Reggio had been stabbed by Mullura.
The body of the gondolier was not found.
The woman who owned the house explained that there had been carousing in the rooms the previous night, and that her tenants, apparently fearing ejectment, had vanished ere morning.
“But they left all their belongings here,” said Professor Gunn.
“No, no!” exclaimed the woman. “They took everything. Not one thing belonging to them did they leave.”
She persisted in this statement, and all the questions put to her did not confuse her. She also declared she had found no trace of blood on the stairs.
“Then why have those stairs been washed this morning?” demanded Dick.
“It is my custom to have them washed every morning.”
“Question others in the house,” urged Professor Gunn.
But other people in the house were very loath to answer questions, and no satisfaction could be obtained from them.
“They are one and all terrified by the Ten,” asserted Dick. “They dare not confess that they heard the sounds of the fight last night. It is likely they have been warned to be silent.”
“It’s a fine state of affairs!” exclaimed Zenas, exasperated.
The official made a gesture of helplessness.
“You see there is nothing that can be done, signors,” he said.
“And are you going to let this thing go right on in Venice? It will ruin your city. You may have kept it quiet thus far, but it shall be published to the world now. Travelers will cease coming here. Then what will you do? You live off tourists. But for them the city would go to the dogs in a short time. It’s up to you to take hold of this matter in earnest and bring this band of robbers and assassins to justice.”
“We care not for your advice,” was the haughty answer.
That ended it. Believing nothing could be done, Dick and the professor finally returned to their waiting gondola, and gave the gondolier directions to take them back to their lodgings. The official entered his boat and was rowed away.
Zenas fussed and fumed, but it was useless. Dick took it more calmly.
But when they reached their own rooms an unpleasant surprise awaited them.
Teresa was gone.
Likewise Brad Buckhart!
CHAPTER XXI. – THE LAST STROKE
The landlady was called, but she declared that the boy and girl had left without her knowledge. She had not seen them go, and she had not the least idea whither they had gone.
“Strange Brad left no word,” said Dick. “He should have left a note, at least.”
But they found nothing to tell them what had become of the missing ones.
“This is awful!” exclaimed the professor, mopping his face with his handkerchief. “I fear some fearful thing has happened to Bradley. And we can do absolutely nothing with the authorities.”
“Come!” cried Dick. “At least, we can report it.”
They hastened to the steps and called to a gondolier who was slowly propelling his boat past.
“In this city it is impossible to follow a trail,” said Dick. “These watery streets leave no scent. A bloodhound would be useless here.”
They gave the gondolier his orders. He took them by several short cuts on the way to their destination. They were passing through a narrow canal when Dick’s attention became drawn by some mysterious influence to a dark door set in a wall some distance above the water.
Suddenly that door flew open before his eyes. Cloaked and hooded men appeared within the doorway, their faces concealed from view.
“Goodness!” gasped the professor, in astonishment. “Who are they Richard? What are they doing?”
Dick did not answer, for a strange thrill had shot over him at sight of those men, among whom a silent struggle seemed taking place.
All at once, before their startled eyes a human figure was hurled headlong from that mysterious doorway, whirling over and over in the air!
It was Brad Buckhart!
Dick recognized his friend. He saw Brad strike the water and disappear with a great splash. Then he called a sharp order to the gondolier.
The black door closed above them, and the mysterious men in cloaks and hoods were hidden from view.
It was not long before Brad rose to the surface, spouting water like a whale.
“Hello, pard!” he cheerfully called. “This ain’t the first time I’ve been in swimming with my clothes on.”
In a moment he was at the side of the gondola and drawn, dripping wet, upon it.
“For the love of goodness, explain this, Brad!” urged Dick.
“Been back to our ranch?” questioned the Texan.
“Yes.”
“Get my note?”
“No.”
“That’s right queer.”
“Did you leave a note?”
“Sure thing. I left one telling you how I could do nothing with Teresa unless I held her by main strength. She became a whole lot unmanageable after you left. Reason didn’t cut any ice with her – none whatever. She was bound to go forth to some friends she knew. At last I opined I’d go with her, if she did go. I called a gondolier, and we hiked merrily on our way. She did have some people she knew, all right, and they live somewhere in this ranch. This is the back door. We entered from the front. The minute she got with her friends she allowed it was up to me to amble and leave her.
“Say, it’s no use trying to reason with a girl. Talk was wasted. She just got up and left me. I might have departed in peace, but I took a notion to explore the ranch. I prowled round through it. Don’t know how many rooms I roamed through, but finally I didn’t know which way to get out. I wandered through a passage and opened a door. Next thing I knew I was in trouble. I had stumbled right into a mess of galoots all sitting round solemn as owls in a circle. They wore black cloaks and hoods that hid their faces. Before I could say Jack Robinson they had me. I put up the best fight I knew how, for I judged they were going to do me for keeps. I don’t want to boast, but I certain soaked some of the bunch a few swats in the slats that they will remember. It wasn’t any use. They just hustled me along to that door up there and pitched me out into the drink. That’s the whole story, and here I am, a heap wet, but still lively and chipper.”
“Brad,” questioned Dick eagerly, “how many of those cloaked men were there?”
“Didn’t have time to count ’em. I know what you’re thinking, pard, and I certain agree with you that it’s some likely I ran slam into the Terrible Ten. I judge they were holding a council of war when I burst in on them.”
“And Teresa is somewhere in that building. Brad, we must make an attempt to find her.”
“Anything you say goes.”
“Boys, boys, boys!” spluttered the professor, turning pale. “You’ll come to your death through such rashness. I must object. I must protect you. It is my duty. What will Frank say if I fail to do my duty?”
But the boys were both reckless and determined. It was not long before they were at the front of the house into which Buckhart averred he had escorted Teresa. They landed on the steps, urging Zenas to wait for them in the boat.
Another gondola floated at the steps, the gondolier idly waiting for some one.
“This wasn’t here a short time ago,” said Brad. “Somebody has visitors in the house, I judge.”
They obtained admittance, but to their surprise Professor Gunn clung to them.
“I’m going to stick by you, even if it costs me my life,” he said.
Barely were they inside when they were startled by a scream.
“The voice of Teresa!” exclaimed Dick. “She’s up there somewhere!”
They rushed up the stairs. The door of a room stood open. In that room Teresa Tortora was struggling in the arms of a man, and that man was Nicola Mullura.
“I have found you, my pretty bird!” cried Mullura, in satisfaction. “I traced you here. Now you are mine, and you cannot escape!”
A door at the opposite end of the room, and directly behind the back of the desperado, suddenly and silently opened. Through the doorway stepped a man whose face was pale as death, and whose eyes shone with a fearful light.
Dick and Brad were turned to stone, for the man was Reggio Tortora, whom they had thought dead!
Tortora did not see them. His eyes were fastened on his sister and Mullura. With swift and noiseless steps, he rushed upon the man, clutching him about the neck and twisting him backward over a bent leg.
Mullura, being thus flung backward and held helpless, could look straight up into the face of Tortora.
“You dog!” panted Reggio. “You left me for dead last night, but a woman found me and bandaged my wounds. She kept me from bleeding to death, and now I am here to kill you! Your time has come, and you die the death you deserve!”
Then his hand, gripping a knife, rose and fell!
For a long time the Venetian police had been investigating the stories of the Terrible Ten. Already they had found sufficient evidence, but they were waiting for the proper moment to bag the whole Ten at a swoop.
On the very day that Reggio Tortora killed Nicola Mullura the police descended on the rascals, who had begun to create such a reign of terror in Venice, and captured them all. The evidence against them was overwhelming, and the whole ten were given the full punishment which the law provided for their crimes.
As for Reggio, he easily satisfied the law that he had killed Mullura in defense of his sister, after Mullura had failed in an effort to assassinate him, and therefore, he was formally acquitted.
His escape from death he had truthfully described to Mullura ere striking the fatal blow. A woman whom he had befriended in the house where he lived had bandaged his wounds and hidden him away, although in mortal terror of her life while doing so. Of course she had declared, when questioned, that she knew nothing of the desperate encounter on the stairs.
The gratitude of both Reggio and Teresa toward their American friends was very great.
The joy of the girl who had thus found her brother may be imagined, but no words can describe it. It happened that Reggio had come to those friends for shelter, and thus he had been on hand when Mullura appeared.
“Well, partner,” said Buckhart, after all these matters had been settled, “we’ve certain had a warm time in Venice while it lasted. It was somewhat too warm, but this calm after the storm is altogether too calm. I’m getting a bit restless. I think we’d better float on.”
“So do I,” nodded Dick. “What do you say, professor?”
“All right, boys – all right,” nodded Zenas. “We’ll jog along into Greece, but it will be just like you to get into some sort of trouble there and keep me nerved up all the time.”
“Hurrah for Greece!” cried Dick.
CHAPTER XXII. – BEFORE THE PARTHENON
“There it is, boys – there it is!” exclaimed Professor Zenas Gunn, in a voice that actually choked with deep emotion. “Behold ‘the casket of the rarest architectural jewels of the world – the temple-crowned Acropolis’!”
“She seems to be a right big old rock,” observed Brad Buckhart; “or is she just a hill?”
“Both a rock and a hill, Brad,” laughed Dick Merriwell. “It is mainly a natural mass of rock, but in places it has been built up by substantial masonry.”
“Correct, Richard,” nodded the professor, approvingly. “It is plain you have posted up on the Acropolis and that you remember something of what you read. I regret that, in spite of my advice, Bradley seems much disinclined to post himself in advance concerning the historical spots we choose to visit.”
“What’s the use?” said the Texan. “I know you’ll tell us all about them, professor, and I’ll remember it a heap better by hearing you tell it, than by reading it in a dry, old book. You have such a fascinating way of telling things, you know, that any one who hears you can’t help remembering every word you speak.”
“Hum! ha!” coughed Zenas, much flattered. “I presume that is true. I think it quite probable you are correct. Under the circumstances, Bradley, you are excusable.”
The two boys and the professor had arrived at the port of Athens near sundown the previous day. The sail through Grecian waters on a fine steamer was one long to be remembered. Repeatedly the professor reminded them that they were traversing the scenes of famous maritime adventures and struggles of ancient history, and that every shore they beheld had been made famous by poets, philosophers and wise men of the days when Greece was the pride, the glory, and the envy of the world.
Night had fallen before the trio reached the capital, which is located six miles from the port. Therefore, being tired and somewhat spiritless, they suppressed their desire to look around and waited for the following day.
And now, beneath the bright morning sunshine, they viewed the Acropolis, which, on account of its history, the professor declared was the most wonderful sight in all the world.
On three sides this great mass of rock and masonry, which looms above the modern city at its base, is practically perpendicular. On its summit stand the white columns and pillars of its ruined temples, which two thousand years ago were perfect in their grandeur and which are conceded to have been specimens of architectual beauty never equaled in modern times.
“Think,” said the professor; “think of Greece in the glorious days when yonder rock was crowned with beautiful temples! We’ll mount to its crest, boys, and soon our feet may touch the very stones once pressed by the feet of Demosthenes. We will stand beside pillars whose shadows may have fallen on Pericles and Phidias. Is it not enough to stir a heart of stone! Let us hasten.”
The old pedagogue was actually trembling with eagerness and excitement.
“All right, professor,” said Dick. “Lead on and we’ll follow.”
“Yes,” said Brad, “hike as fast as you choose, and we’ll keep up with you.”
To their surprise they found the city very modern in appearance, and this surprise was increased on beholding a train of street cars drawn by an ordinary steam engine. Still the people were interesting in their native garments, and the language was what they had expected to hear.
At last they approached the Acropolis. As they drew near they beheld around its base a mass of ruins of the most picturesque character.
“Whatever sort of buildings were those, professor?” inquired the Texan.
“They were theatres,” answered the old man. “The theatre of Bacchus, of Odeon, and others stood at the base of the great rock. You behold the ruins of those theatres. Somewhere in this vicinity is the dungeon of Socrates, in which he drank the hemlock. We’ll find it ere we leave Athens.”
They were compelled to make inquiry of a peasant before they found the only path by which the great rock could be ascended. The professor found it necessary to rest several times before the summit was reached, but still his enthusiasm buoyed him up in a wonderful manner.
As they reached the plateau the professor turned to look back on the city spread below them.
“Yes,” he said, nodding and speaking as if addressing himself, “I had almost forgotten. Why, it was only a little more than half a century ago that Athens was demolished by the Turks. Hardly a house in the place was left in condition for human beings to inhabit it. That is why we see this modern city here.”
Although they did not betray it as much as did the professor, both lads were profoundly moved by their situation.
For a few moments Dick seemed to feel himself transported back to Fardale, and he saw himself in his little room poring over Homer’s electrifying verse or deep buried in Xenophon’s incomparable prose. He knew that from this hour, as he stood by the pillared gateway of the Acropolis, he would understand the old Greek poets and philosophers better and appreciate them more.
“Come, boys,” said Professor Gunn, in a hushed tone, “we’ll pass through this ruined gateway, which was called the Propylæa, and which cost two and a half million dollars. Think of that! Think of it, and then behold these ruins. Touch them reverently with your hands. You are treading on sacred ground.”
When they had passed beyond the ruined gateway all halted in wonderment, for before them spread the entire plateau and they saw it was literally bestrewn with fallen columns and shattered statues. And directly before them, at the highest point of the plateau, rose the ruins of a snowy white temple, the Parthenon.
The spectacle was one to render them silent and speechless. They stood quite still and gazed in awe at the ruins.
At last Zenas spoke. He had his hat in his hand, and he mopped his forehead with a handkerchief, although the day was cool.
“Words fail me, boys,” he said. “I wonder if you understand what it is to behold this spectacle. Look on this scene of desolation wrought by the hand of ruthless man. It is quite enough to make the gods weep!”
“However was she ruined, professor?” inquired Brad.
“It occurred something like two hundred years ago. At that time the Parthenon stood almost unchanged in its matchless magnificence. The Turks used it as a powder magazine. The city was besieged by an army of Venetians. They bombarded the town. One of their shells exploded in the powder magazine. Behold the result!”
“Say, that was a whole lot bad!” exclaimed the Texan. “It sure was a shame!”
“Let’s get nearer,” urged Dick.
They threaded their way amid the ruined columns and statues, drawing nearer to the ruins of the Parthenon. The professor told them how the Parthenon had been despoiled of its treasures.
At that moment they seemed to be quite alone on the plateau of the Acropolis, but suddenly, from amid the pillars of the temple, dashed a Grecian girl, who did not seem to be more than sixteen years of age. She saw them and uttered a cry.
A moment later two men appeared in close pursuit of her. Both were Greeks. One was a man of forty-five or a little more, while the other could not have been much past twenty-one. They shouted for the girl to stop.
She ran toward the boys and the old professor, and the cry that came from her lips was one of terror and appeal. Her pursuers were close on her heels.
“By the great horn spoon!” shouted Buckhart, “here is where we mingle in a red-hot old scrimmage, pard! There will be something doing on the top of the Acrop in a moment!”
“Boys, boys, boys!” exclaimed the professor, in great agitation and alarm. “Do be careful! Those men look dangerous!”
“Would you have us see a woman in distress without showing our manhood?” demanded Dick, as he also prepared for an encounter. “We’ll protect her, Brad.”
“Now you’re shouting!” cried the Texan. “We’ll certain check the careless behavior of those gents some.”
“Englishmen – good Englishmen!” cried the girl; “save me!”
She was panting and wild-eyed as she reached them. She seized Dick’s arm with her shaking hands. In truth she was very pretty, with clear-cut Grecian features and eyes as blue as the skies of Athens.
“We’re not Englishmen,” said Dick, “but you can count on us just the same.”
“You bet you can, just as long as the American eagle flaps its wings to the tune of Yankee Doodle,” asserted Brad.
Dick placed her behind them saying:
“Look out for her, professor, while we discuss the matter with these boisterous gentlemen.”
“Boys, boys, boys!” again fluttered the old man. “Do be careful! Do be discreet! You’ll get us all into no end of trouble.”
By this time the two men had reached the spot, and the elder at once demanded in Greek the possession of the maiden.
“Although we’ve scanned that language under compulsion,” said Dick, “we are not prepared to talk it. If you will use plain United States, we may be able to chat with you.”
With an assumption of politeness, the man immediately begged their pardon in fairly good English, saying he had not thought in his excitement to address them in other than his own language.
“The girl,” he said; “I take her.”
“Wait a bit,” remonstrated Merriwell, declining to move. “As you can talk a modern language, we’ll discuss this matter. The girl seems frightened. What is all the trouble about?”
The elder man drew himself up haughtily, while the younger glowered on the boys.
“It is no bus’ness to you,” was the answer.
“Then I opine we’ll have to make it our business,” muttered Buckhart.
“But she is frightened, and she seeks our protection,” said Dick. “It is the habit of all decent Americans to protect women in distress.”
“Let him not touch me!” entreated the girl, speaking again with that indescribably bewitching accent which Dick had noted in her first appeal to them.
“She mere child,” said the man haughtily. “I am her uncle, and I take her.”
“Oh, you’re her uncle?”
“I am.”
“Well, tell us why she fled from you and seemed so excited and frightened.”
“No bus’ness to you,” again asserted the man.
“He want make me do something I hate!” exclaimed the girl. “He make me marree Maro.”
“Oh, ho! And who is Maro?”
The girl pointed at the younger man.
“And you do not wish to marry Maro?” questioned Dick.
“Oh, no, no, no!”
“Don’t blame you,” put in Brad. “If Maro wears that thundercloud on his mug all the time, he’d frighten a Hottentot, much more a civilized girl. Go change your face, Maro.”
The young man did not seem to understand this fully, but he darted a deadly look at Brad, then urged his companion to make a move at once.
“Look out, boys – look out!” panted Professor Gunn. “He says you are mere children and easily crushed. He wants to attack you at once.”
“Whoop!” cried Brad, squaring away. “Let him wade right in! Let them both break loose and come at us! They’ll find the children ready for business, you bet your boots!”
“Steady, Brad,” cautioned Dick. “We’ll fight if we have to.”
“And I sure reckon we’ll have to, pard.”
“It looks that way, but let’s not rush matters. Keep a cool head.”
Dick feared the men were armed, which would give them an additional advantage. Under ordinary circumstances it would not seem a difficult thing for them to obtain the mastery over the two boys, but those boys, in spite of their years, were remarkable athletes and clever fighters, and they believed they could hold the Greeks good play unless deadly weapons were produced. Neither lad counted on assistance from Professor Gunn.
