Frank Merriwell Down South Part 33

Rolf Raymond could not doubt Frank's words, for honesty was written on the boy's face.

"Her name," he said--"her name is--for you to learn."

His taunting laugh brought the warm blood to Frank's face.

"All right!" cried the boy from the North. "I'll learn it, no thanks to you. More than that, if she needs my aid, she shall have it. It strikes me that she may have fled of her own accord to escape being persecuted by you. If so----"

"What then?"

"We'll meet again."

"That we will! Colonel Vallier may have settled his trouble with Professor Scotch, but mine is not settled with you."

"You are right."

"We may yet meet on the field of honor."

"I shall be pleased to accommodate you," flashed Frank; "and the sooner, the better it will satisfy me."

"Thot's th' talk!" cried Barney Mulloy, admiringly. "You can do th'

spalpane, Frankie, at any old thing he'll name!"

"The disappearance of Miss ----, the Flower Queen, prevents the setting of a time and place," said Raymond, pa.s.sionately; "but you shall be waited on as soon as she is found. Until then I must let nothing interfere with my search for her."

"Very good; that is satisfactory to me, and I will do my best to help find her for you. Now, if your business is quite over, gentlemen, your room would give us much more pleasure than your company."

Not another word did Raymond or Vallier say, but they strode stiffly to the door and bowed themselves out. Barney closed the door after them.

Then both the boys turned on Professor Scotch, to find he had collapsed into a chair, and seemed on the point of swooning.

"Professor," cried Frank, "I want to congratulate you! That was the best piece of work you ever did in all your life."

"Profissor," exclaimed Barney, "ye're a jewil! Av inny wan iver says you lack nerve, may Oi be bitten by th' wurrust shnake in Oireland av Oi don't break his head!"

"Boys!" gasped the professor, "fan me! I can't seem to get my breath!

How did I do it? It scares me to think of it."

"You were a man, professor, and you showed Colonel Vallier that you were utterly reckless. You seemed eager for a fight."

"Fight!" groaned the little man. "I couldn't fight a child! I never fought in my life. I don't know how to fight."

"Colonel Vallier didn't know that. It was plain, he believed you a desperate slugger, and he wilted immediately."

"But I can't understand how I came to do such a thing. Till their unwarranted intrusion--till I collided with the colonel--I was in terror for my life. The moment we collided I seemed to forget that I was scared, and I remembered only that I was mad."

"And you seemed more than eager for a sc.r.a.p."

"Ye samed doying fer a bit av a row, profissor."

"What if he had struck me!" palpitated the little man. "Oh, gracious! It would have been terrible!"

"For him. If he'd struck you, you'd been so mad that nothing could have stopped you. You would have waded into him, and given him the worst thras.h.i.+ng he ever received."

"Thot's pwhat ye would, profissor, sure as fate."

Scotch began to revive, and the words of the boys convinced him that he was really a very brave man, and had done a most daring thing. Little by little, he began to swell, like a toad.

"I don't know but you're right," he said, stiffening up. "I was utterly reckless and desperate at the time."

"That's right, professor."

"Profissor, ye're a bad mon ter buck against."

"That is a fact that has not been generally known, but, having cowed one of the most desperate duelists in the South, and forced him to apologize, I presume I have a right to make some pretensions."

"That's a fact."

"Ye've made a riccord fer yersilf."

"And a record to be proud of," crowed the little man, getting on his feet and beginning to strut, forgetful of the fact that he was in his night robe and presented a most ludicrous appearance. "The events of this evening shall become a part of history. Future generations shall regard me as one of the most nervy and daring men of my age. And really, I don't know but I am. What's the use of being a coward when you can be a hero just as well. Boys, this adventure has made a different man of me. Hereafter, you will see that I'll not quail in the face of the most deadly dangers. I'll even dare to walk up to the mouth of a cannon--if I know it isn't loaded."

The boys were forced to laugh at his bantam-like appearance, but, for all of the queer twist he had given his last expression, the professor seemed very serious, and it was plain that he had begun to regard himself with admiration.

"Think, boys," he cried--"think of my offer to fight him with pistols across yonder narrow table!"

"That was a stroke of genius, professor," declared Frank. "That broke Colonel Vallier up more than anything else."

"He wilted at that."

"Of course you did not mean to actually fight him that way?"

"Well, I don't know," swelled the little man. "I was reckless then, and I didn't care for anything."

Suddenly Frank grew grave.

"This other matter they spoke of worries me," he said. "I can't understand what has happened to the Queen of Flowers."

"Ye mustn't let thot worry yez, me b'y."

"I can't help it."

"She may be home by this toime."

"And she may be in desperate need of a helping hand."

"Av she is, Oi dunno how ye can hilp her, Frankie."

"Nor do I know of any way. Why should any one kidnap her?"