“I have none,” said Frank, attempting to pass.

“Den give us a match,” demanded the man, blocking the road.

“As I do not smoke I never carry matches.”

“Well, den, I s’pose I’ll have ter go wit’out er light, but—­you’ll take dat!”

Like a flash the man struck straight and hard at the youth’s face.  It was a wicked blow, delivered with marvelous swiftness, and must have knocked Frank down if it had landed.

But Merriwell had suspected all along that it was not a light the man was after, and he had been on the watch for just such a move as was made.  For all of the man’s swiftness Frank dodged, and the blow passed over his shoulder.

When Frank ducked he also struck out with his left, which he planted in the pit of the assailant’s stomach.

It was a heavy blow, and for a moment it rounded the man up.  Before the ruffian could recover he received a thump under the ear that made him see stars and sent him sprawling.

But the man had a hard head, and he hastily got upon his feet, uttering fierce words.  He expected to see the youth in full flight, and was astonished to perceive that Frank had not taken to his heels.

With a snarl of fury the wretch rushed at Merriwell.

Frank dodged again and came up under the man’s arm, giving him another heavy blow.  Then the man turned, and they sparred for a moment.

“Durned if youse ain’t der liveliest kid I ever seen!” muttered the astonished ruffian.  “Youse kin fight!”

“Well, I can fight enough to take care of myself,” returned the lad, with something like a laugh.

Smack! smack! smash!  Three blows in rapid succession caused the ruffian to reel and gasp.  Then for a few moments the fight was savage and swift.

It did not last long.  The ruffian had been drinking, and Frank soon had the best of it.  He ended the encounter by striking the man a regular knockout blow, and the fellow went down in a heap.

When the ruffian recovered he was astonished to find Frank had not departed, but was bending over him.

“How do you feel?” the boy calmly inquired.

“Say, I’m all broke up!” was the feeble reply.  “Are youse der feller wot done me?”

“I presume I am.”

“Well, wot yer waitin’ fer?”

“To see how badly you are hurt.  Your head struck the stones with frightful force when you fell.”

“Did it?  Well, it feels dat way!  Here’s a lump as big as yer fist.  But wot d’youse care?”

“I didn’t know but your skull was fractured.”

“Wot difference did dat make?”

“I didn’t want you to remain here and suffer with a broken head.”

“Didn’t, eh?  An’ I tried ter do ye up widout givin’ yer any warnin’!  Dis is der quarest deal I ever struck!  I was tryin’ ter knock yer stiff an’ den break year arm.”

“Break my arm?”

“Dat’s wot I was here fer.”