“Stay!” he hissed. “One more step will be the last you will ever make!” At Dick’s elbow was a writing desk, on which lay a heavy metal paper weight. While Bunol’s attention was given almost wholly to Brad, Merriwell’s fingers closed quickly on the paper weight. Suddenly, with a motion that was amazingly rapid, he lifted his hand and launched the paper weight at the Spaniard. Bunol attempted to dodge, having seen the sudden jerking movement of Merriwell’s arm. He was a second too slow. The paper weight struck him squarely between the eyes, and he dropped unconscious to the floor. Like a panther, Dick crossed the floor in one great bound and fell on Bunol, his fingers closing on the fellow’s windpipe. Breathing hoarsely, Buckhart was on hand to render assistance. “Great work, pard!” complimented the excited Texan. “He had me under his gun, and I couldn’t do a thing.” He picked up Bunol’s pistol, which had dropped from the fellow’s fingers. “This may add to our armament,” he observed. “We’re likely to need all the guns we can handle pretty soon.” Dick had discovered by this time that there was no need to choke the Spaniard, for the paper weight had fixed the fellow so he would offer no resistance. “Bring me the rope we found in the wardrobe yonder, Brad,” directed Merriwell, “and bring it quickly. We must tie this fellow up good and solid before he recovers.” The other boy hastened to bring the rope. “Looks like somebody used this for a trunk strap,” he observed. “Lucky they left it in the wardrobe.” Dick directed Brad to cut the rope into pieces of certain length, and with these pieces he proceeded to tie Bunol in such a manner that it would be difficult for the fellow to do much more than wiggle a toe on recovering consciousness. “He’ll be liable to howl some when he comes round,” observed Brad. “Not when I have finished with him,” asserted Dick. “Hand me that clothes brush.” Buckhart did so. Dick took the brush across his knee and broke off the handle in a twinkling. Then, with the aid of his comrade’s knife, he soon fixed the handle so it would serve as a gag, and this he fastened between the teeth of the Spaniard. As he was completing this task, Dick saw that Bunol was coming round. The fellow’s breast heaved, he opened his eyes, and for the time being he seemed completely bewildered and at a loss to understand what had happened. “Now, what will we do with him, pard?” questioned Brad. “We’ll chuck him into that closet,” decided Dick, at once. A step sounded outside the door. Instantly Brad leaped to the door and set his shoulder against it. “Go on, Dick!” he palpitated. “Get Mig out of the way somehow, while I hold the door.” Merriwell stooped to lift his enemy. As he did so his eyes met those of Bunol, and in the dark orbs of the helpless Spaniard he saw a murderous look of hatred. On Bunol’s forehead there was a swelling, but otherwise he seemed unharmed.