A dozen men leaped
toward the girls. But Merriwell reached them first. He lifted Elsie, who
had merely fallen in a faint, as he saw; and, passing her to a student
whom he recognized, he bent anxiously over Inza.
There was a bruise and a fleck of blood on the upper part of her face.
"Inza!" he said, lifting her tenderly and seeking to arouse her. "Are
you much hurt, Inza?"
The words and tone seemed to call her back from the land of death. She
moaned feebly, and tried to put up a hand. Half-lifting her in his arms,
he looked around.
"Is there a surgeon here!" he called.
Elsie came back to consciousness with a shiver, and heard him call. Her
face had been very white, but it became pale as death. The sight of
Inza's bruised face and limp form upheld by Merriwell seemed to blur her
brain again. She caught at the arm of the student who was holding her,
and by a great effort kept her senses.
"Is she dead, Frank?" she whispered.
"No!" he answered. "I don't know how much she may be hurt, though."
The tiger had ceased to struggle, the crowds were writhing, a babel of
sound that was confused and confusing filled the air. The circus
procession had come to a halt, with the exception of the forward band,
which was blaring away far down the street.
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