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The elder man grew impatient and again demanded possession of the girl, asserting that the boys would be punished for interfering, as he was the one who had sole authority over her.
“Where is her father?” asked Dick. “Is he dead?”
“Not dead,” explained the girl quickly. “In India. He leaf me with Tyrus.”
“So the old boy’s name is Tyrus?” muttered Brad.
“Tyrus Helorus,” said the man haughtily. “If wise, you not int’fere in Greece with one who have name Helorus.”
“The Helorus you say!” grinned Brad.
“That what I say!”
“Thanks! You’re so kind! I reckon we’d better introduce ourselves. Gents, this here is Dick Merriwell, a fighter from his toes to his scalp lock. He lives on scrimmages. To him a good fight is the breath of life. If he goes a whole day without a fight he loses flesh and becomes a whole lot downcast. I’ve seen him whip seven men in concussion. He looks young, but he’s fought enough to be older than these ruins. I’ll wager the contents of my warbags that the professor and I can sit down and look on comfortable while he wallops the both of you in one round.”
“That will about do,” muttered Dick.
“Wait,” urged Brad. “Don’t cut me out of presenting myself. I, gents, am Bradley Buckhart, from the Rio Pecos country, Texas, U. S. I’ve been brought up where they have man for breakfast every morning. It gets to be a regular morning treat for us in Texas. I am some off my feed just at present, not having had any man this morning. You’ve happened along just in time to relieve my famished condition. So sail in, both of you, and we’ll proceed to chaw you up. You hear me sweetly carol!”
The Greeks looked at him in bewilderment, and well they might. It is likely that they took this talk for a bluff; but, if so, they were soon to learn that Brad Buckhart was one of those rare bluffers who invariably “made good.”
A silent chap with fighting blood in his veins is generally regarded as formidable and dangerous when aroused, but once in a while it happens that a talkative chap is just as dangerous.
Those who saw and heard Brad for the first time were almost certain to fancy he would show the white feather at the last moment. Those who had seen him often and knew him well never doubted that he would unflinchingly enter a den of roaring lions if he felt it his duty to do so.
The natural chivalry of Buckhart’s nature had been stirred by the appearance of the girl and by her appeal for protection, and therefore he was ready to lay down his life in defense of her right there on the plateau of the Acropolis.
It was but natural that Professor Gunn should be much alarmed over the situation, for he felt that, to a large extent, the safety of the boys was in his hands and he was responsible for them.
Therefore the old man now proposed that they should all go to a magistrate or some official who had proper authority and that the case should be submitted to him.
To his astonishment this seemed to infuriate both the Greeks. They cursed him and the boys for interfering and sneered at the proposal of submitting the matter to any official. One more demand they made for possession of the girl, and it was plain they meant to take her by force if refused.
They were promptly refused by both boys, who placed themselves shoulder to shoulder in front of the shrinking maiden.
With a snarl of rage, the younger Greek drew a knife.
“Oh, heavens!” moaned Professor Gunn. “There will be bloodshed!”
Then, to his greater horror, he saw Dick and Brad attack the men, declining to wait to be attacked themselves.
CHAPTER XXIII. – FIGHTING BLOOD OF AMERICA
It was Dick Merriwell’s theory that in an encounter that promised to be unequal a sudden and surprising assault might more than outbalance the odds.
In this case he determined to put the theory to the test.
Brad understood Dick so thoroughly that it was not necessary for the latter to utter a word of command. He simply made a slight signal that was unobserved by the Greeks, and when he leaped forward the Texan was at his shoulder.
It was a daring thing to do, considering the fact that Maro, the younger man, had drawn a knife. Still Dick knew they would be compelled to fight or surrender the girl, and he had no thought of following the latter course. As it was necessary to fight, it was better to attack than to wait for the attack.
Merriwell singled out the man with the knife. Before the fellow realized what was happening, the boy was on him. Then Maro tried to lift the knife for the purpose of using it, at the same time uttering a snarl of astonished rage.
That snarl was broken midway, for Dick seized the fellow’s right wrist with his left hand, preventing him from making a stroke with the gleaming blade. At the same time the daring American lad gave Maro an awful jolt with his right.
Dick knew how to put force into a blow, and he knew how to land a blow that would put the other fellow “all to the bad.” That punch, backed with the boy’s weight, simply knocked the wind out of his antagonist.
Then Dick gave the man’s wrist a wrench that seemed to snap the bones. The knife flew from Maro’s fingers and struck with a clang against a prone and headless marble statue.
Having succeeded thus swiftly in disarming the rascal and knocking the wind out of him, Dick felt confident that he had accomplished the most difficult part of the task.
In the meantime Buckhart, roaring like an angry bull, went at Tyrus Helorus. The older Greek was no mean antagonist. He side-stepped in a manner that enabled him to avoid the full fury of the Texan’s rush, at the same time seeking to get hold of the boy with his powerful hands.
“Fool American!” he grated.
“Whoop!” shouted Brad, wheeling and coming at the man again. “Shades of Crockett and Bowie! you’re some spry on your feet!”
The Greek clutched Brad’s collar.
“Ha!” he cried in satisfaction.
“Ha! yourself, and see how you like it!” said Brad, as he delivered a body blow in the ribs.
But that blow, although struck with just as much force, perhaps, was not as effective as the one struck by Dick, for the reason that it did not land on the spot to count as heavily.
The Greek jerked Brad nearer and fastened both hands on him.
“Fool!” he said again.
Then he gathered the lad in his arms.
“I’ve been hugged by grizzly bears,” said Buckhart, in relating the adventure afterward, “but I certain allow that that old Greek gent sure could out-hug them all. When he closed in on me I heard a general cracking sound all round my anatomy, and I allowed at least nine of my ribs was bu’sted then and there. I sure did.”
In fact, Brad was robbed of his strength by that squeeze, and, for the time being, was helpless in the power of Tyrus Helorus.
Professor Gunn had been hopping round, first on one foot and then on the other. He was terribly excited, but suddenly, in a most astonishing manner, he flew at the fellow who seemed to be crushing Brad.
“Let that boy go, you wretch!” he cried, in a high-pitched voice. “Don’t you dare hurt one of my boys!”
Then he proceeded to claw at Tyrus in a manner that bewildered and confused the man for the time being.
The Greek relaxed his hold on Buckhart, enabling Brad to get a breath. With a wrench and a squirm the Texan twisted clear. He half dropped, and then his arms closed about the knees of the man. A moment later the Greek was lifted clear of his feet and pitched headlong against a marble slab.
The shock seemed to stun him.
“Much obliged, professor,” panted Buckhart. “You certain chipped into the game at just the right juncture.”
“Hum! ha!” burst from Zenas, who suddenly realized that he had done something. “They want to look out for me when I get started. I’m dangerous – exceedingly dangerous.”
By this time Dick had punished the younger Greek in a manner that led him to take to his heels in the effort to escape.
“Stop him!” shrilled Zenas.
“Let him go!” exclaimed the boy promptly. “If he’ll keep on running I’ll be pleased.”
Maro dashed in amid the ruins of the Parthenon and disappeared.
Tyrus lay where he had fallen.
“My goodness!” exclaimed Zenas, gazing in apprehension at the prostrate man. “I hope I didn’t kill him – I really hope I didn’t. Of course, it was in self-defense – or, rather, in defense of one of my boys; but still I hope I didn’t finish him when I struck him that last terrible blow.”
The old man seemed to really believe he had knocked the Greek down.
Dick turned to look for the girl. Pale and trembling, she stood with clasped hands, seemingly quite overcome by what had happened.
“Don’t be afraid, miss,” said Merriwell. “You are safe for the present.”
She gave him a flashing look of admiration from her splendid blue eyes. Then suddenly she seemed to think of the fallen man, and a moment later she was kneeling by his side, calling him by name and crying that he was dead.
“I do not think he is dead,” said Dick, attempting to reassure her. “Let me see.”
Even as the boy placed an inspecting hand on the breast of Tyrus the eyes of the man opened and he heaved a sigh. The girl gave a cry of gratitude and relief. He turned on her a glance that made her tremble, and in his native tongue he began to mutter threats which sent her to her feet like a startled fawn.
“Don’t waste your sympathy on him,” advised Merriwell. “A man who can growl like that isn’t badly hurt. He’ll be all right in a short time.”
“Then – then he make me marree Maro!” she gasped. “I better die!”
“What are we going to do about it, pard?” asked Brad. “Whatever can we do to help her?”
“That’s a puzzling question,” admitted Dick. “Evidently this man is her guardian, and we’ll get into no end of trouble if we try to take her from him. She ought to be able to appeal to the proper authorities for protection.”
“Tak’ me to Charlee,” entreated the girl.
“Charlie?” exclaimed Dick. “Who in the world is Charlie?”
“I love heem!” she declared. “He grandes’ man in the world! He grandes’ man ever live! I marree Charlee!”
“Ah, ha! So that’s the way the wind blows?” cried Dick. “There is another man in the case, and that’s why old Tyrus is trying to force you to marry Maro?”
She nodded violently.
“Charlee come to tak’ me to my father, in India,” she said. “When Maro find that so he come to Tyrus, say I never go, say I marree heem. Tyrus say I must marree Maro. Say I never meet Charlee no more. That brek my heart. I cry no, no, no! They tak’ me from home, so Charlee never find me when he come. They tak’ me where I have to stay in small room all time till Maro marree me. I geet out. I run. I come here. Charlee say he come here often look at ruins. I think he may come now. I wait. Tyrus and Maro come find me. I try to run. I see you. I call for help. That all.”
“It’s enough!” cried Dick. “Where is this Charlie? We will take you to him.”
She shook her head in distress.
“He somewhere in citee,” she said, with a sweep of her hand.
“A whole lot indefinite,” observed Buckhart.
Dick asked the girl if she did not know in what hotel Charlie was to be found.
She did not.
“What is the rest of his name?” questioned Dick. “Do you know it?”
“Whole name Charlee Cav’deesh,” she declared.
“Cavendish?”
“That right.”
“It’s up to us, Brad,” said Merriwell, “to find Charlie Cavendish as soon as possible.”
“I opine it is,” nodded the Texan.
“In the meantime,” said the professor, “we’ll all be arrested for kidnapping the girl. Boys, boys, is it impossible for you to keep out of scrapes?”
“I’m afraid it is,” confessed Dick.
CHAPTER XXIV. – MARO AND TYRUS
Having beaten off the two Greeks, neither of the boys had a thought of surrendering the girl. They were determined to protect her, no matter what happened, until they could get word to Cavendish, who, she asserted, was somewhere in Athens.
Tyrus made no objection when he saw the lads and the old professor departing with the girl in their midst. He sat up, staring after them, a wicked look on his face.
Barely had Zenas, the boys, and the girl disappeared from view when Maro reappeared amid the ruins of the Parthenon and ran swiftly to the spot where Tyrus sat.
“Why do you sit thus?” he demanded. “Did you not see them taking Flavia away?”
“I saw them,” was the gruff answer.
“Then why did you permit it?”
“Why did you permit it?”
“You are her uncle.”
“You are her lover.”
“But you have the power.”
“It is, indeed, little power I had after being dashed against this slab of marble.”
“But yours is the authority.”
“They are Americans.”
“What of that?”
“Americans recognize no authority but that of might. They are wonderful fighters.”
“They fight like fiends!” exclaimed Maro. “Who could think that those boys would dare attack us! And I was armed with a knife.”
“Little good it did you,” returned Tyrus, with a touch of scorn. “I had no weapon, and I would have mastered one of them had not the old man attacked me, scratching and clawing like a cat.”
“But you are going to let them carry Flavia away?”
“You have as much right to stop them as I have.”
“No, no!” almost shouted Maro, in great exasperation. “You have the right, for you are her uncle. You must do it!”
“I like not your language, Maro. No man has ever told me I must do a thing.”
“But you let them walk away with her?”
“Because the young man, strong and able to battle for his rights, fled and sought shelter in hiding. Maro, I sadly fear I have been much mistaken in you. I fear you are a coward.”
The younger man flushed with mingled anger and shame.
“What was I to do?” he demanded, seeking to justify himself in the eyes of Tyrus. “I saw that you were stretched prone upon the ground, and I feared you had been slain. I was disarmed, and that terrible American boy was hitting me so fast that the blows could not be counted. I knew that, in another moment, I would have all three of them upon me. I fled to save my life.”
“You saved it,” said Tyrus, still with that biting touch of scorn. “You saved your life, but it may be that you have lost Flavia.”
“Never!” grated Maro. “I will follow and take her from them!”
“Alone?” asked Tyrus, with that same manner. “You ran from one of them, but now you propose to follow and conquer all three of them. Indeed, Maro, your words and your behavior are inconsistent.”
“We are losing time!” exclaimed Maro.
“We? Why, I thought you were going to do it quite alone.”
“It is you who must lodge the complaint against them, as you did against the Englishman, for you are the uncle and guardian of Flavia.”
“Oh, so you advise that we seek the assistance of the law?”
“It is the better way.”
“In truth I doubted if you actually intended to attack those American fighters, even though you spoke so boldly. You have had quite enough of that, Maro. You still insist that Flavia must be your bride, even though you know now that she scorns you and would prefer death?”
“She is my light, my life! I must have her! You have given me your word that she shall be mine.”
“But I had no thought that she would make such a terrible resistance. She has ever been a good and dutiful girl since her father left her in my hands. I knew she was averse to you, Maro, but I fancied you could overcome her aversion, or that she would dutifully submit at my command. She has in her the spirit of her father’s family. He married my sister even though I hated him and sought to prevent the union. Maro, he loved her, which I hold to his credit. He was a good husband to her, and he nearly died of grief when she passed from earth and left little Flavia. It was for Flavia that he lived. Otherwise I believe he would have taken his life that he might join her. But when he met reverses and lost most of his little fortune, he felt that bad fortune had placed a blight on him while he remained in his native land. He found an opportunity to go to India, and he left Flavia with me, charging me to be like a father to her. It is now said by this Englishman that he has prospered in life, and by this Englishman he sends a message which tells me to let Flavia return to him in care of the Englishman.”
“A trick! a trick!” cried Maro fiercely. “The letter was a forgery!”
“How do you know?”
“The Englishman and Flavia met before he presented that letter.”
“Which is true.”
“She fell in love with him.”
“Her behavior seems to denote it,” confessed Tyrus.
“She knew I wished to marry her and that you favored me.”
“Go on.”
“The Englishman smiled on her. She was deceived. She told him of her father. Perhaps she gave him some letters from her father. Either the Englishman forged the letter, or he employed an expert to accomplish it. In this manner he means to steal her from you and from me.”
“It is possible you speak the truth.”
“I know I speak the truth! I feel it here in my heart! He is deceiving her. He would take her away, pretending that it is his intention to conduct her to her father; but in truth he has no such intention, and when he becomes tired of her he will desert her. I am right, Tyrus. She will be left to die in some foreign land by this young dog of an Englishman, whose father is rich and who has money to fling about with a lavish hand. It is your duty – and mine – to save her from such a fate! Arouse yourself, Tyrus! Bestir yourself, and let’s do something without delay. The Englishman has been placed beneath arrest. It is our next move to enter complaint against the Americans and have them arrested also. It can be done.”
Tyrus bowed gravely.
“It can be done,” he agreed; “and, as you say, it may be our duty to see that it is done.”
“Then delay not. Every moment is precious.”
“Give me your hand,” said the elder man.
Maro assisted him to rise.
“It was a terrible shock I received,” muttered Tyrus, moving his shoulders and making a wry face. “It is most remarkable that my neck was not broken. Even now to move at all causes me discomfort, and to-morrow I fancy I will be exceedingly lame.”
“Think not of yourself,” urged Maro, burning with impatience and seeking to pull Tyrus onward. “Think of Flavia and your duty to her. Hasten!”
“Wait a little,” said the elder man. “I am dizzy. My head reels. It is a singular sensation, for all my life I have been strong as the horse.”
Indeed, he swayed and might have fallen but for the supporting arm of the young man.
“Oh, these Americans!” he muttered. “Even mere boys, scarce escaped from the nursery, seem to have the courage, skill and strength of men. What a wonderful people they must be!”
“Bah! I admire them not, for ever it is that an American and an Englishman will unite against one of any other nation. They speak one language, and there is between them a bond of sympathy stronger than they themselves dream. Has the Astrologer of Minerva not said that some day they will unite and rule the world. I admire them not, I tell you! Come, Tyrus, they will escape with Flavia, and we – ”
“We will find them, never fear. They shall soon be placed in confinement and kept there until Flavia is yours. I think I can walk now.”
“Then hasten, hasten!” urged the impatient and baffled lover.
CHAPTER XXV. – TWO ENGLISHMEN
Zenas Gunn strutted like a peacock. He seemed to feel that he it was who had accomplished the feat of baffling the girl’s pursuers. For a time he put aside his fear of further trouble over the affair, jogged along at her side and talked fluently with her in the language she could best understand.
They left the plateau by way of the marble gate and hastened to descend.
“Trust us, my dear child,” said the professor.
“I do,” she declared, smiling on him in a manner that made him throw out his chest still further. “But, oh, I fear Tyrus and Maro! They are determined that I shall never see Charlee again.”
“Hum! hem! How long have you known this Charlie?”
“It is not long. He is the most beautiful man in all the world!”
“You should have seen me when I was younger,” said Zenas. “I beg your pardon, but I do not think we have learned your name?”
“It is Flavia.”
“Beautiful name,” declared the professor. “Look out, my child, do not stumble there.”
“There is no danger that I will stumble, but you – ”
“Oh, I’m as frisky as a young colt! Didn’t you see me put Tyrus to the bad a while ago? Don’t worry about me.”
“The old boy is getting along some!” observed Brad, speaking to Dick, as they followed Zenas and the girl. “It takes a young girl to wake him up and make him lively.”
There was a shadow on Merriwell’s face.
“It was our duty to protect the girl,” he said; “but now it would be an absolute relief if we knew where to find this Englishman, Cavendish. There is going to be a great rumpus over this, and we may find ourselves in a pickle because we took the part of this maid of Athens.”
“The Maid of Athens!” exclaimed Brad. “That’s the title for her! It fits her. By the great Panhandle! if it wasn’t for Nadia Budthorne – ”
Dick laughed.
“Brad, you’re smashed! She has a fellow – Cavendish. And that is not mentioning Maro.”
“Hang Maro! He doesn’t count any whatever.”
“But Cavendish does.”
“He’s lost in the shuffle.”
“Well, there is Nadia, and you – ”
“She’s all right!” exclaimed Brad sincerely; “but she isn’t here, and I opine I’ve got a right to admire the Maid of Athens some.”
“But no right to make love to her.”
“No danger of that, pard,” grinned the Texan. “I never did cut much ice with the girls. You always were the one, and it’s a wonder to me that this girl didn’t forget Charlee the moment she placed her sky-blue eyes on you.”
“Oh, that will about do!” laughed Dick. “You’re forever imagining that girls are struck on me, when the fact is that they are not, and – ”
“How about Doris Templeton?”
“Mere friendship.”
“Is that so? How about June Arlington?”
“Friendship just the same.”
“Well, then, how about – ”
“That will do! Don’t try to make me out a chap with a dozen girls!”
The Texan chuckled.
“Don’t you get gay with me,” he advised. “I can come back at you good and plenty.”
By this time they were well down toward the base of the Acropolis. Suddenly Flavia uttered a wild cry of joy, broke from Professor Gunn and ran toward two men who were approaching.
One of the two was a very young man, with a delicate mustache on his lip, while the other was middle-aged, florid and puffy, carrying a heavy cane. The younger man had seen Flavia the moment she discovered him, and he sprang toward her, his hands outstretched.
“Galloping jack rabbits!” exclaimed Buckhart. “Whatever does this yere mean?”
“It means,” said Dick, with satisfaction, “that we’ll not have to search all over Athens for Charlee.”
“I’m almost sorry,” declared Brad, with a comical twist of his face. “She didn’t have time to discover how much superior I am to Charlee.”
Professor Gunn looked both relieved and disappointed. He had feared they would get into serious trouble, yet now he was disappointed by the appearance of the Englishmen.
For Englishmen they were, beyond question. The elder man had the appearance of a man of the world, given to special delight in the good things of life. He surveyed the boys and the professor with mild curiosity. His eyes were rather bleary and blood-shotten.
At first Flavia was too overjoyed to make an explanation, but finally, in a confused torrent of words, she told what had taken place on the plateau of the Acropolis.
The face of the young Englishman brightened as he began to understand how she happened to be escorted by Professor Gunn and the boys.
“So you went there thinking you might meet me, Flavia?” he said. “It was on my way to view those ruins that I first met you, and you remembered. I fancied you might, don’t you know, and that is why I am here now. I found you had been removed from your home, and I could not trace you. It is pure chance, but, by Jove! luck is with us.”
Then he turned to the Americans.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “my name is Cavendish – Charles Cavendish, son of Sir Henry Giles Cavendish, of Grantham. This is a particular friend of our family, Sir Augustus Camberwell. I wish to thank you most heartily and sincerely for your brave defense of Flavia. Permit me to shake hands with you all.”
“Yes,” said Sir Augustus, “very gallant, really. Just like you queer Americans. Never stop to inquire into an affair where a woman is concerned. Always go in and stand by the woman. Splendid sentiment, but dangerous.”
Sir Augustus now turned his attention to Flavia, at whom he gazed in a manner that Dick did not fancy.
“Very charming, my dear Charlie,” he admitted. “I’m beginning to understand how it happened. Oh, you rascal! Where would you be now if I wasn’t in Athens? Why, you would be in jail. It took my influence to get you out.”
“For which I thank you most sincerely, Sir Augustus.”
“All right, my boy – all right. But you want to remember my advice. You want to remember what I told you about getting in too deep. Oh, you rascal! you’re going to be another case with the girls, just as your father was before you. Many’s the little toot we’ve been on together, and Henry always was getting entangled with a female.”
“Well, what do you think of that, pard?” whispered Buckhart, in Dick’s ear.
“I think Sir Augustus is smelly,” was the answer.
Professor Gunn was likewise far from pleased. He regarded the older Englishman with an air of pronounced distrust and suspicion.
“Don’t worry about me, Sir Augustus,” advised Cavendish.
Just then, happening to glance up the path they had lately descended, Professor Gunn uttered an exclamation of alarm and warning.
“Look – look, boys!” he cried. “There come the Greeks!”
Maro and Tyrus were to be seen descending the path.
Flavia was greatly alarmed in a moment.
“Let them not touch me, Charlee!” she entreated, clinging to Cavendish.
“Never fear,” he said reassuringly. “They shall not.”
“But I opine we’d better be moseying along out of this,” said Buckhart.
To this the others agreed, and they lost no time in moving.
