--an open hand struck Bart Hodge on the cheek, sending him
reeling. The blow was delivered by a large man, with a heavy black
mustache and the manner and appearance of a "gentleman rowdy." His
clothes were flashy, and he "sported" several large diamonds.

Frank was not the boy to stand idle and see a friend struck. Without a
word he made a leap for the big man. His fist was clinched, his arm shot
out, and his knuckles took the fellow under the left ear.

It was a beautiful knock-down blow. The man measured his length on the
platform in an instant.

"All aboard!"

The train was about to start, the conductor was giving the signal.

"Let it go," said Frank, quietly. "It is possible I had better stay here
and see this matter through. Bart may need me."

The train began to move.

With a cry of dismay, the girl had knelt beside the fallen man.

A bit dazed, Bart Hodge had faced around in time to see Frank strike
that telling blow. Bart stared, almost doubting the evidence of his
eyes.

"Great guns!" he gasped.

Then he sprang forward, his hand outstretched, shouting:

"Frank Merriwell!"

"Bart Hodge!"

They shook hands, both laughing forth their delight.

"You are a sight for sore eyes, old man!" cried Bart.

"You're another!" flung back Frank.

The man with the black mustache pushed away the girl and sat up,
staring, in a dazed way, at the two boys.

"Who struck me?" he asked.

"I believe I had that pleasure," smiled Frank.

"You? Did you knock me down? Why, you're a kid! I can kill you with one
blow!"

He got upon his feet, his face dark as a thundercloud.

The girl caught him by the arm, crying, in distress:

"Don't Paul--don't harm him! He has been kind to me on the train. I beg
you not to hurt him!"

This seemed to anger the man still more.

"Kind to you, eh?" he snarled. "And the other one tried to flirt with
you. I will----"

His hand went round to his hip, and there was a mad, deadly gleam in his
eyes. He looked murderous.

Neither of the boys made a move to draw a weapon.

"I wouldn't do it," said Frank, coolly. "I know this section of the
country is called 'the wild and woolly West,' but it is not sufficiently
wild and woolly to overlook a cold-blooded murder. If you take a fancy
to shoot two boys you will be pretty sure to get yourself beautifully
hanged."

"Oh, I won't shoot!" growled the man, his hand dropping away from his
hip. "But I will----"

"Easy, there!" came sharply