CHAPTER XXVI.
AN ENCOUNTER IN ROTTEN ROW.
In a moment they were face to face.
“Now we’ll see if she fails to recognize me,” thought Frank.
He gracefully lifted his hat.
At that instant Inza seemed to observe him for the first time. He saw the color leave her face, and she quickly turned her head away.
It was as if a shot had been fired point-blank at Frank, and it nearly unseated him.
There was no longer a doubt in his mind. This girl was Inza, and she had refused to recognize him.
The boy had thought himself prepared for anything, but he discovered his mistake, for once more he was dazed, and they had passed before he recovered.
Then, with a fierce exclamation, he reined his horse about and followed them.
He saw Inza lean toward her companion and say something, whereupon the youth looked back, seeing that Frank had turned about. This fact he communicated to the girl, and they started forward at a swifter gait.
Frank actually ground his teeth. It was quite a new experience to him to be given the cold shoulder in such a manner, and all his nature rose up in rebellion against such treatment from one whom he had once saved from the teeth of a mad dog and again rescued from a frightful death beneath the wheels of a railway locomotive.
Frank felt injured as he had never before felt in all his life. It was a new experience for him.
“I must know her reason for this,” he muttered. “I suppose it is the proper thing for a gentleman who receives the cut to close his mouth and keep still about it; but I can’t do that without knowing why I was thrown down in such a manner by her.”
And so he followed them sharply to the Hyde Park corner, where he was close upon them. There they turned about quickly, and he stopped his horse in front of them, again lifting his hat, and saying:
“Miss Burrage, may I have a word with you?”
The young fellow with Inza thrust his horse almost against the animal Frank bestrode.
“Insolent fellow!” he said, through his teeth. “Permit us to pass.”
The blood surged into Frank’s face, but he held himself well in check, his voice being hard and icy as he spoke.
“I did not address you, sir.”
“But I addressed you!”
The stranger forced his horse yet nearer, trying to drive Frank aside, his proud face growing dark with passion.
Frank held his ground.
“Miss Burrage,” he said, with the greatest politeness, “I do not think you will refuse me an explanation. It seems to be due me.”
She gave him one cutting, killing look with her dark eyes, and then haughtily turned away once more, her red lips curling with scorn. This added to Frank’s bewilderment and wonder, and it cut him like a sword thrust.
“You have your answer, fellow,” hissed the girl’s escort. “Let us pass.”
“No!” came firmly from the lips of the American boy. “Not till I know the reason for this! It is unjust and unkind, and I feel that an explanation is due me.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you will not get it!”
Swish! the whip in the hand of the stranger cut through the air. He had aimed the blow at Frank’s horse, but the Yankee lad caught the whip with a lightning movement, and snatched it from the hand of the owner.
“Two may play at that game,” he half laughed. “With my compliments!”
Once more the whip cut the air.
Frank aimed the blow at the fellow’s shoulders, but Inza’s escort flung up his arm to ward off the blow, so that he received the lash fairly across the face, where it left a livid welt.
The sound of the whip frightened the girl’s horse, and the animal sprang away, despite her efforts to hold it in check.
“The Old Nick take you!” grated Inza’s escort, with his hand to his face. “You shall pay dearly for that blow!”
Frank was ready for anything just then, and the prospect of a duel had no terrors for him. Indeed, it filled him with a feeling of fierce satisfaction.
“I shall be pleased to settle with you at any time or place,” he bowed, tossing the whip to its owner.
Then he reined about, and saw Inza’s horse bearing her away at a mad gallop, while she struggled to hold it in check. A dog ran from the walk and barked at the horse, filling it with greater fear, and it shied, nearly unseating the girl.
“A runaway!” muttered Frank. “She has lost control of the creature. She will be thrown and killed if the horse is not stopped!”
In another moment he was tearing along the Row in pursuit.
Then it was that Frank soon discovered what sort of mettle there was in the animal he bestrode. The creature seemed to fly over the ground in a most astonishing manner, and he soon saw he was overhauling the girl with remarkable swiftness.
“Steady, Inza!” he called, as he came along behind her. “Keep your seat, and I will pull the brute down in a moment.”
He forged along beside her, bent forward, grasped the bit of the frightened animal, and then began the struggle to check the animal without throwing the girl.
If Inza had not been in the saddle, Frank would have brought the creature up with a round turn; but he dared not attempt such a thing, and so he bore a steady hand on the bit of the snorting and terrified horse, speaking soothingly and pulling the animal down at the same time.
Hundreds of spectators watched the effort, and scores expressed their satisfaction and admiration as Frank succeeded in calming the runaway and getting the creature well in hand.
When the boy had brought the horse to a stand, two mounted officers came dashing up, and congratulated him on his success.
“It was well done, young sir,” said one of them. “Neither of us could have done better, and we both have our opportunities every day.”
“It was nothing,” smiled Frank.
Then he turned to Inza, who was rather pale, but calm.
“You seem to be all right, Miss Burrage.”
She hesitated, her head drooped, and then she said:
“I am all right, thanks to you. But for you I should have been unseated. I had quite lost control of the horse.”
“I am happy to know I have been of service to you.”
These words seemed to cut her deeply, for the warm blood sprang to her cheeks, and she quickly said:
“It is not the first time you have saved me from injury or death. I have much to thank you for, Mr. Merriwell.”
“Mr. Merriwell! Once you were not so formal.”
“Forgive me, Frank!” she cried, impulsively. “I know I am mean and horrid. I had no right to treat you so, but—but——”
“Never mind explaining it here, Inza,” said the boy, swiftly, knowing they were watched by curious eyes, and that there were listening ears close at hand. “You may tell me later. Of course you will permit me to call now?”
“Of course. Here, take this card. It has my address written upon it. I shall be pleased to see you at any time.”
“This afternoon?”
“If you like.”
“I will call.”
“Very well.”
“What hour?”
“Any time after two.”
“Then you may look for me by two-thirty.”
“Put up that card. Here comes Glanworth, and I know he is in a frightful passion. He will long to kill you.”
“Who is he?”
“My cousin. He has a dreadful temper, and he is proud as Lucifer. You struck him. Look out for him, Frank.”
“Trust me, Inza. As he is your cousin, I shall take much from him, but he mustn’t attempt to use his whip. That was where he made the mistake before.”
Glanworth came up, flinging his horse on its haunches, and saying, swiftly:
“I see this fellow has succeeded in forcing his attentions on you, cousin. An accident gave him the opportunity. Like all Americans, he has no idea of propriety, or even of common decency.”
Frank smiled sweetly.
“A short time ago,” he said, “it would not have been healthy for you to have made such an observation. Then I was in anything but a pleasant mood. Since then, things having come to my satisfaction, my mood has changed. I shall not quarrel with you, sir.”
This seemed to add fuel to Glanworth’s anger.
“You are a blooming snob!” he fiercely exclaimed. “I do not believe you would have the courage to meet a gentleman, anyway!”
“I might if I were forced into such an affair,” returned Frank, smiling.
“Then here—here—here is my card! I will shoot——”
“Stop, Kennington!” ordered Inza, commandingly, her hand falling on his arm, as he was fumbling, with fluttering fingers, to extract a card from the case he had taken from his pocket. “I forbid this! There can be no quarrel between you two. You do not know Frank Merriwell. He is a dead shot with rifle or pistol, and you would not stand a show.”
“Then we’d fight it out with swords.”
“And he was the champion fencer at the military school where he was educated. He is an expert with almost every kind of a weapon, and he could kill you in a duel, if you met.”
“Bah! He would not dare to meet me!”
But Kennington Glanworth uttered the words in a manner that showed he was not nearly so eager to force the American lad into a duel as he had seemed to be a short time before.
“If you think I do not dare to meet you,” said Frank, quietly, “we will let it go at that. I am quite willing you should think so.”
“I know it,” sneered Glanworth.
“Very well. You should be well satisfied.”
Then Frank turned to Inza, to whom he spoke a few words, after which he lifted his cap, reined about, and rode away.
He was well satisfied with the result of his adventure on Rotten Row.