In fact, Frank was struck just once during the entire encounter, and that was a glancing blow on the forehead, which he scarcely noticed. He thumped the rascal to his heart's satisfaction, and then knocked him flat with a round-arm swing that landed on the jaw. The ruffian lay on the floor and groaned. When he started to get up Merriwell exclaimed: "There, I think that will do you for to-night! When you want some more of the same just come fooling around my horse!" He caught the man by the shoulders, yanked him to his feet, ran him to the door, and booted him out of the stable. Having done this, Frank turned back and coolly put on his coat. "There, Grody," he said, "I feel better. I think it is possible I have given that rascal a lesson he will not forget in a hurry." The hostler stared, and then he cried: "Mr. Merriwell, sir, you are a wonder! If as how you were to go inter ther ring you'd make some of the duffers hustle. That were the neatest job what I ever see!" "It was not so much of a trick," declared Frank. "The fellow is strong, I'll warrant, but he is too heavy on his feet and too slow in his movements. There are scores of fellows in college who can polish him off." "I will allow I never knowed you college chaps were able to fight like that before. I knowed some of you were for fighting among yourselves all right, but I didn't think you could go up against a reg'ler scrapper." "It's a part of the education at Yale," smiled Frank; "and I've found it comes in handy occasionally. The man who can't fight his way through this world in one manner or another gets walked over by chaps who are not his equal in any other way. I do not believe a man should fight only at the proper time, but when he has to fight, I hold that he should be able to do a good turn at it." "Well, you can do your turn all right, sir." "Now, Grody, Nemo must receive proper attention. I am sure that fellow did something to make the horse lame. What he did I can't tell. I don't see how he did it without getting his brains kicked out." Grody hesitated, and then he said: "Mr. Merriwell, sir, I wants to tell ye something." "All right, Grody, go on." "I didn't tell all what happened in the stall to-day when that bloke were here." "Oh, you didn't?" "No, sir. What called my attention to the fact that he had gone inter the stall were a racket." "What sort of a racket?" "Nemo kicked and squealed, sir, and I heard the man speaking to him. Then I ran over and looked in." "What was the rascal doing, Grody?" "He were examinin' Nemo's feet, sir." "And that was when he got in his dirty work!" cried Frank, angrily. "I'm afraid I didn't thump him as much as he deserved! I feel like hunting him up and giving him a few more!" CHAPTER IV. BIRDS OF A FEATHER. In a little back room of a saloon three young men were sitting. They were talking earnestly, for all that two of the three showed they had taken altogether too much liquor to be entirely sober.