“So both Hookers are in this little business. Joe, if you follow in the tracks of your brother, I’ll guarantee you will land in prison. He’ll be there within a year.” Joe Hooker followed his brother’s example and tore off his mask. “I want ye ter know I’m in this business, too!” he snarled. “If ye swear to it afterward, your word’s no better’n ourn, and we’ll swear you lie.” “Now,” said Merry, “if the rest of the fine gentlemen will kindly uncover, we’ll be able to talk this matter over face to face.” But the remaining three ruffians declined to show their faces. “They jest come erlong to see ther fun,” said the cowboy. “We’re goin’ ter do ther business. Eh, Joe?” “You bet!” “What is your game?” “Oh, ye’re anxious ter know! You’ll find out soon enough. Is ther tar hot, Joe?” “Well, I reckon it’s hot enough for our requirements.” “Then we’d better prepare the gent for his new suit o’ clothes. Bring in ther feathers.” Now Frank understood the foul purpose of the gang, and his rage knew no bounds. However, he realized it would be useless to give vent to his anger, and he held himself in check. “Tar and feathers, eh?” he said, apparently quite cool, for all of the seething fury in his heart. “Ye’ve struck it,” chuckled Sam Hooker, as Joe hurriedly left the room. “You’ve made me ther laughin’-stock o’ ther town, an’ now I’m goin’ ter disgrace you.” Joe returned with an old pillow, which he quickly ripped open, crying: “There are yer feathers, Sam.” “Now,” said the cowboy, “we’ll ondress ther gent.” “Wait a minute,” said Frank. “I have a few words to say to you before you begin your dirty work.” “Speak lively, fer we ain’t got no time ter waste. All the same, ye may as well spare yer breath, fer nothin’ you kin say will make any difference.” “I do not expect it will, but I wish to make you a little promise, Mr. Hooker. It is this: If you adorn me with a coat of tar and feathers, I promise you that I will make you regret the day you ever saw me. I promise you I will make you weary of life! I will not rest in carrying out my promise. I will hound you down, and I’ll make you such an object of scorn and contempt that you will long for death! I swear it!” This vow had no effect on the men. “Go ahead!” cried Sam Hooker. “You’ve made me ther laughin’ stock o’ Carrolton now, an’ I’m bound ter git even with yer! Now, we’ll strip him, Joe.” “Stop!” Through the door bounded a girl. With all her strength she pushed Sam Hooker aside. Over Frank Merriwell she stood, with a hardwood baseball bat raised aloft. “I’ll brain the first man who touches him!” she almost screamed. It was Daisy Blaney! CHAPTER XIX. AN UNEQUAL BATTLE. “Daisy!” exclaimed Joe Hooker. His brother gave vent to an exclamation of rage. “Back!” cried the girl. “You shall not harm him!” Joe took a step forward, but she glared at him and seemed ready to strike with all her strength.