Badger's head seemed to split open under that blow, and
a blur of blood and mistiness followed. He felt himself reeling and
sinking, with his feet slipping on the stairway, toward which he had
fallen. Then he dropped like an ox in the shambles.
But before complete unconsciousness came, he heard the shout of a
well-known voice--the voice of Frank Merriwell!
Merriwell came upon the scene from a corridor, having been drawn by the
calls and the pistol-shots, and with marvelous quickness and certainty
grasped the whole intent of what he beheld.
Fairfax Lee struck aside the revolver that was pointed at Frank, and
again began to call for help. The next instant Merriwell was in the
thick of the fight. Though no man could have understood his peril more
perfectly, there was at that moment in Merriwell's heart a wild thrill
of joy. He laughed as he struck at the nearest ruffian--a laugh that
sounded strangely out of place.
The blow fell with crushing force, and the ruffian tumbled backward
against the wall. Before Merriwell could turn, two of the other three
ruffians were on his back. One had drawn a knife and the other had the
jimmy. The remaining burglar was on the stairs, and was lifting a
revolver. Merriwell lunged toward him, and the man, instead of firing,
lost his footing, and went tumbling down the steps.
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