Agnew flounced and threshed about, crying out that he was shot. He was
anxiously lifted up, and on his face was seen a drop of blood, which had
come from a cut recently made.
"One shot went in right there!" he cried. "I think there are others! Get
me into a carriage quick!"
A half-dozen young fellows ran for the nearest carriage, toward which
Agnew was conducted as rapidly as possible. Harry Rattleton seemed
dazed, and began to look about on the ground as the crowd thinned out
there, Merriwell hurried to him.
"What's the matter?" he anxiously asked.
"The shells were knocked out of my hands!" gasped Rattleton. "And not
half of them seem to be here!"
Merriwell's look became anxious. He stooped down with Harry and began to
gather up the shells.
"A shrewd trick, but it didn't work!" he exclaimed, holding up a
cartridge. "Here is one of those that were fixed for me, anyway. And now
I know that Agnew did it, and that he intended to kill me!"
The other shells which Agnew had prepared were gone, having been
gathered up in the midst of the tumult and excitement and cleverly
slipped by Agnew into his pockets.
"Who fired that shot?" Merriwell asked.
"I don't know!"
Others were gathering round.
"He tried to kill me, Harry, and I shall strike back.
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