Burt Standish - Frank Merriwell's Athletes - or, The Boys Who Won

“Oh, Frank!” she panted; “is it you – can it be?”

“Yes, Inza,” he answered, as he held her close and kept his eyes on the Englishman, whose flushed face had grown white with rage. “It is I.”

“And you have come to – to save me from that horrid wretch?”

“Well, you should know I am ready to do anything in my power for you, Inza. Have I ever failed to respond when you have appealed to me for aid?”

“Never – never, Frank! Don’t let him come near me again! I am afraid of him!”

“Release that young lady!” cried Lord Stanford, his voice hoarse and husky. “Who are you that you dare interfere here?”

He took a step toward Merriwell, but was halted by a look from the Yale lad’s flashing eyes.

“I am the friend of Miss Burrage,” answered Frank; “and I shall protect her from you, sir.”

The Englishman forced a husky laugh.

“That’s a blooming good joke!” he sneered. “Miss Burrage is in her father’s charge, and I scarcely think you will have the impudence to interfere.”

Bernard Burrage looked on in a helpless manner, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Her father has no right to force her into an odious marriage against her will,” declared Frank. “It is possible that she needs protection from him.”

“What insolence!” fumed Lord Stanford. “I never heard anything like it! There’s not an English boy living who would dare think of attempting such a thing.”

“Possibly not; but you are not dealing with an English boy, sir. I am American to the bone.”

“And what you need is a good sound drubbing.”

“Possibly you think of giving it to me? If so, I advise you to take off your coat, as you will find it warm work, I assure you.”

Inza clung to Frank, looking up at his handsome face with an expression of admiration in her dark eyes.

“You young scoundrel! Perhaps you do not know whom you are addressing?”

“It makes no difference to me, sir.”

“I am Lord Stanford, of – ”

“I don’t care if you are the lord of all Europe! You are on American soil now, and dealing with a full-blooded American.”

“Bah!” cried the Englishman. “You are nothing but a young braggart! You are trying to pose as a hero before the young lady, but it will do you no good.”

“Do you think so? That makes not a bit of difference to me.”

Frank regretted very much that he had not been able to follow them to the pier with a cab, for then he would have made an attempt to hurry Inza into it and carry her away.

Now he fully realized that, should he attempt to walk away with her, if Lord Stanford found no other manner of stopping him, he could follow and order the first policeman he met to arrest Frank.

Merriwell saw that Bernard Burrage was shaking with excitement, showing the old man’s nerves were quite unstrung.

Stanford appealed to Inza’s father.

“Mr. Burrage,” he said, “why don’t you order that young man to unhand your daughter? Is it possible you mean to let him carry on this outrage in such a high-handed manner?”

“Let her go! Let her go!” cried the invalid, weakly, lifting his heavy cane and shaking it in a feeble manner at the youth.

“I will do so when she commands me, not before,” declared Frank, calmly. “I am astonished at you, Mr. Burrage! I never dreamed you would attempt to force your daughter into a marriage against her will.”

“Have you forgotten?” whispered Inza. “This is not the first time. He tried to make me marry my cousin in New Orleans.”

“It’s nothing to you – nothing, sir, nothing!” excitedly shouted Bernard Burrage.

“Take her away from him, why don’t you?” fretted Lord Stanford.

Frank laughed with a cutting sound.

“That is very fine, noble sir!” he sneered. “It seems quite appropriate that you should stand still and order this feeble old man to take her from me.”

“He has the right to do it, don’t you know.”

“You do it, Lord Stanford – I give you the right to do it,” said the old man.

“Yes, come and do it!” urged Frank.

“Oh, can’t we get away!” whispered Inza. “We must!”

“If Barney would appear with the cab!” thought Frank. “I am afraid he was badly injured.”

Once more he looked around, but the one he wished to see was not in view.

Frank longed to have several of the boys on hand, for then he could have looked after the Englishman and the girl’s father while they carried Inza away.

As Frank turned his head, Lord Stanford stepped swiftly forward and grasped Inza’s wrist, attempting to draw her away.

She gave a scream.

Merriwell turned like a flash, saw what was occurring, and swung his fist at the Englishman.

Crack! – the blow caught Lord Stanford fairly on the left ear.

Down he went, measuring his length on the planking in a moment.

The sailor who had been standing on the pier was near at hand, and he hurried to assist the fallen nobleman.

But Stanford was not hurt, and he got up quickly.

The blow was sufficient to arouse his anger fully, and he made a blind rush for Frank.

Merriwell saw he was in for a struggle with the enraged nobleman, and he quickly placed Inza behind him, keeping his eyes on Stanford all the while.

The furious fellow struck at Frank, huskily crying:

“Take that, you young ruffian! It’s a bobby I’ll call and have you arrested for what you have done!”

But Frank avoided the blow with ease.

He did not strike Stanford again.

“You are a mark,” he laughed. “I’m ashamed to give you what you deserve. Why, I could break your nose in a moment if I wished.”

“Bragging again! You Americans are always bragging! That is all you know how to do!”

“Really! History shows we have done up Johnny Bull twice, and done him good. If necessary, we can do him up again.”

Again Stanford rushed, and again Frank ducked and dodged aside, thrusting out his foot and tripping the Englishman.

Down upon the planking plunged the angry nobleman, striking his nose hard enough to scrape it quite severely.

When he got up he was blind with rage – almost frothing.

He made such a swift rush at Frank that Merry was not able to dodge again, and he received a slight blow on the cheek.

Frank’s eyes flashed, and he grappled with Stanford.

Whirling the fellow about, he grasped him by the collar and a convenient portion of the trousers he wore.

“You are excited, my dear sir,” said Merriwell, gently. “What you need is a nice chance to cool off. I think I will give you an opportunity to do so.”

Then he ran the frightened and frantic nobleman to the edge of the pier and kicked him off into the water.

“There,” said Frank, as he stood looking down, having thrust his hands into his pockets, “that will be a fine thing for you.”

Lord Stanford came up, spouting like a whale.

“Murder!” he cried. “He means to drown me!”

“Oh, no; only give you a bath,” said Frank, soberly.

Then he heard a shrill cry of fear behind him, and whirled to see that the sailor had seized Inza.

Like a leaping panther the young athlete went for the man.

“Help!” appealed Inza.

The sailor saw Frank coming, and prepared to meet the attack. He was a thick, muscular-appearing fellow, and he did not seem in the least afraid of Merriwell, for all that the latter had handled Lord Stanford with such ease.

“You won’t find a snap with me,” said the man, showing eagerness for the struggle. “I can handle two or three of you.”

He looked as if he fully believed it. Indeed, he had the appearance of a prize fighter, and ninety-nine boys out of a hundred would have hesitated about tackling him.