Smack!—Frank got in a swinging blow that sent one of the men staggering backward to fall to the ground. The other leaped upon him, trying to crush him down. Frank squirmed about, obtained a hold upon the man, and gave him a wrenching twist, jerking him off his feet. Down upon his back went the fellow, and Merriwell knelt on his breast, dropping heavily to knock the wind out of the man. The other was up, and he sprang upon Frank’s back. Frank ducked quick as a flash, and the fellow went flying over his head. Merry felt for a stone. His blood was boiling, and he longed for a weapon with which he could avenge his friend. His hand found one, but it was not large enough. However, he arose with it, and flung it at one of the men who was coming at him. The stone struck the man in the breast and stopped him for an instant. Then Frank found an opportunity to reach for his revolver. He snapped it out of his pocket, laughing loudly. That laugh had a deadly ring. The man who had been struck by the stone rushed at him again. “Keep off!” cried Frank. “I shall shoot!” “Shoot, hang you!” Snap!—the hammer fell, but there was no report. The revolver had missed fire. Then the man closed in with Merry, grappling the weapon. Frank pulled the trigger again in the struggle. There was a report, a spout of fire, and a bullet went whistling skyward. The man was trying to wrench the revolver from Frank’s grasp, and, for some seconds, they fought over it. Frank had a firm hold, and it could not be taken from him. Discovering this, the unknown tried to force him down on his knees. Frank knew not a few wrestling tricks, and he used one of them on the man, who clung to the revolver as he dropped. Merry was dragged down, and, on the ground, the struggle for possession of the revolver continued. Frank felt that to lose it meant sure death, for he was certain his enemies would not stop or hesitate at murder. Still hanging to the revolver with one hand, the man secured a stone with the other, and then he struck Frank on the head. The blow caused Merry to see stars, but did not rob him of strength so that the ruffian could wrest the revolver from his fingers. Again the stone descended. This time it was a glancing blow. Frank flopped the fellow over in a moment and sat up astride his body, tearing his fingers from the revolver. “Now I can shoot you!” cried Merry. “I would be justified in doing it, for you have tried to murder me.” The man struggled to fling him off, but Frank held him there, pushing the revolver against his head. “Keep still!” For the moment Merry had forgotten the other man. Now there was a grating sound behind him, and then he received another blow on the head. That one was enough. Without a moan or a gasp, he fell over on the ground, stricken senseless! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XIV THE CAPTIVE ON THE YACHT.