He saw Billy McQuade meeting the driver, who had risen to his feet. It was evident at once that he had suffered from nothing worse than a severe shock, for, as Merriwell turned and approached the two, he heard the driver cursing furiously. With a feeling of distaste, he inspected the man, whose clothes Billy was hastily brushing. The driver of the rig was a tall, spare, stoop-shouldered man. He was very well dressed, and wore a gray mustache and goatee. There was a hard set to his face, and a pouchiness beneath his black eyes, that denoted self-indulgence, and a life that was anything but what it should be. “You good-for-nothin’ loafer!” he roared, turning furiously on Billy, as Chip Merriwell came up. “You done this a-purpose! You----” “It was not Billy’s fault at all,” broke in Merry warmly. “I was the first one over the fence, and your horse shied at me.” The driver whirled on him, his rage becoming a cold fury as he met Merriwell’s firm, steady gaze. “What are you doin’ in them duds?” he demanded. “So it was you, hey?” “Yes,” and, although Merry’s eyes flashed at the tone of the man, he kept his voice cool. “Yes, and I’m very sorry about it. Of course, I’ll be glad to settle for whatever damage was done.” “Lot o’ good that’ll do!” growled the other, who seemed to be eying him with anything but liking. “What you chasin’ around in them duds for?” “We were doing a bit of cross-country running,” Merriwell said quietly. Billy McQuade was flashing him queer looks which he interpreted as warnings, but he took no heed of them. “As I said, I’ll expect to make good any damage, and I’m very sorry the accident occurred. My name is Frank Merriwell, junior, and you’ll find me at the McQuades’ residence, if you want me.” The man flung Billy a hard look, then laughed sneeringly. “Mebbe I will and mebbe I won’t,” he jeered. “They ain’t goin’ to have a residence very long, I reckon. I s’pose he put you up to scarin’ that hoss, eh?” “He did not!” cried Merry indignantly. The insinuation made him angry clear through. Billy flung him an imploring glance, but he was a chip of the old block, and showed it in his next words. “I don’t know who you are, my friend, but you’ve got a disposition that I wouldn’t like to be let loose with. We’ve caused an accident, or, rather, I have, and I’ve apologized and offered to do all in my power to make it right. “Instead of throwing slurs and curses into the atmosphere, it’d be a whole lot more decent if you’d try to act white. I don’t blame you for being mad. I’d probably be mad myself in the same circumstances. But that’s no reason for your acting in this way.” The stranger gave him a black look, then moved off. “Humph!” he grunted sarcastically. “I guess you’re like your dad, if all I’ve heard say is correct. Let’s see what damage was done. I reckon the buggy was smashed up.” Merriwell and Billy McQuade followed him to where the horse stood. The man went over the buggy, then examined the horse.