For the time, wrapped about with the unbounded delight of their unexpected meeting, they were utterly oblivious to their surroundings. They did not see Rolf Harlow struggle to a sitting posture, rubbing the spot where Frank’s fist had been planted. They did not see him glaring at Merriwell with deadly hate, while he felt to make sure that his revolver was where his hand could find it quickly. Harlow arose quietly to his feet, assuming a crouching posture, ready to leap upon Frank, whose back was toward him. At that instant, a handsome, black-eyed girl came running around the corner of the house, closely followed by another lad, the latter being the spy Merriwell and Diamond had detected in the bushes farther down the river. A cry from the lips of the girl warned Frank, and caused him to whirl quickly about. As he did this, Harlow leaped and struck out with all his strength. Frank was able to dodge slightly and avoid the full force of the blow. However, he did not escape it entirely, and it staggered him. He released his hold upon Elsie immediately, for Harlow was closely following up the attack, and Merriwell saw he was in for a fight with the furious young scoundrel. That would have not alarmed Frank, but Harlow called to the other lad: “Here, Radford, jump in here and help me thump the stuffing out of him! He’s alone! It’s the chap who caught you down the river, and he just hit me a thump when I wasn’t looking. Come on!” “I’m with you!” shouted Radford. “We’ll lick him till he can’t stand! This is our chance to get square!” He hastened to join Harlow in the attack upon Frank. Merriwell laughed. It was his old, dangerous laugh, which came from his lips when he was most aroused in time of peril. “Come, on!” he invited, promptly. “Sail right in and lick me! I’ll watch and see how you do it! The way I feel now, it would take four or five more such chaps as you to do that little job! There is one for you, Radford!” Harlow had struck at Frank. Merry dodged under his arm, came up behind him, and struck Radford a stinging blow before Rolf could turn about. Then a furious struggle began, while the two girls, clasped in each other’s arms, looked on in terror, fearing the dauntless fellow who was battling against such odds would be severely punished. “Who is he, Elsie?” gasped the other girl. “Isn’t he brave! Isn’t he smart! Oh, I never saw a fellow who could fight like that! I do admire a fellow who can fight!” “It’s terrible!” whispered timid little Elsie, her hands clasped in distress. “A fight always terrifies me! But they can’t whip him!” she declared, with the utmost confidence. “I know they can’t!” “Who is he? You must know him, and you have not told me who he is.” “That is Frank Merriwell, of whom I have told you so much, Kate,” said Elsie, proudly. “He is the bravest fellow in the whole world!” “Frank Merriwell?” cried Kate Spencer, for it was Kent Spencer’s sister. “How can that be? How comes he here?”