Once engaged in a dangerous encounter, or forced into a position of peril, Frank's blood arose, and he seemed to be seized by a reckless disregard of his personal safety. Then it was that he laughed in a singular manner, and his enemies had learned that he was the most dangerous when that laugh sounded from his lips. As he heard those unknown foes creeping down upon him in the darkness of the alley, Frank crouched close to the ground, and felt about with his hand for some weapon of defense. Fear suddenly gave place to anger, and he longed to retaliate on his enemies. He knew well enough that the men creeping down upon him were hired tools, chosen by his foes to do him severe bodily injury. "Oh, for a club--a stone--anything!" he thought. But his hand found nothing that suited his need at that moment. The cautiously advancing men came nearer and nearer. He could hear them whispering to each other, and they seemed to block the entire width of the narrow alley. He could not make out their number, but he was sure there must be several of them. "Can yer see him, Jake?" "No, an' I can't hear him neither." "But he's here somewhere, and they say he'll fight. Look out fer him." Frank heard these whispered words, and then, without realizing that he was about to do so, he laughed! There were hoarse cries, curses and blows. A savage struggle suddenly was begun in the dark alley. Frank had hoped to break through the line of his foes by his sudden rush, but he was not successful, although his hard right fist knocked a man down with his first blow. Then he received a shock that seemed to cause a thousand bright lights to flash before his eyes, and he knew he had been struck on the head with some sort of weapon. The boy staggered. Uttering hoarse exclamations, his assailants, like beasts of prey, sprang upon him. "Give it to him!" cried a voice. With new strength, Frank twisted and squirmed. In doing so, he threw his head from side to side, and it chanced that he succeeded in saving it from the blows which were intended to render him helpless. Those blows, many of them, at least, fell on his shoulders and his back with benumbing force. He forgot that his left hand was not yet well, but he used it as freely and as vigorously as his right. And, once more, something like a laugh came from his lips. "Hear him!" hissed one of the ruffians. "Why, he's a perfect young fiend!" But Frank could not long hold his own against such odds. Some of the blows aimed at his head fell glancingly, but they were enough to rob him in a measure of his strength. He tried to tear away, and then he was felled to the ground. Merriwell felt that "the jig was up" with him. They had him at their mercy, at last. Then it was that a surprising thing happened. With encouraging cries, two men came through the darkness and attacked the boy's assailants.