A silent chap with fighting blood in his veins is generally regarded as formidable and dangerous when aroused, but once in a while it happens that a talkative chap is just as dangerous.

Those who saw and heard Brad for the first time were almost certain to fancy he would show the white feather at the last moment. Those who had seen him often and knew him well never doubted that he would unflinchingly enter a den of roaring lions if he felt it his duty to do so.

The natural chivalry of Buckhart's nature had been stirred by the appearance of the girl and by her appeal for protection, and therefore he was ready to lay down his life in defense of her right there on the plateau of the Acropolis.

It was but natural that Professor Gunn should be much alarmed over the situation, for he felt that, to a large extent, the safety of the boys was in his hands and he was responsible for them.

Therefore the old man now proposed that they should all go to a magistrate or some official who had proper authority and that the case should be submitted to him.

To his astonishment this seemed to infuriate both the Greeks. They cursed him and the boys for interfering and sneered at the proposal of submitting the matter to any official. One more demand they made for possession of the girl, and it was plain they meant to take her by force if refused.

They were promptly refused by both boys, who placed themselves shoulder to shoulder in front of the shrinking maiden.

With a snarl of rage, the younger Greek drew a knife.

"Oh, heavens!" moaned Professor Gunn. "There will be bloodshed!"

Then, to his greater horror, he saw d.i.c.k and Brad attack the men, declining to wait to be attacked themselves.

CHAPTER XXIII.

FIGHTING BLOOD OF AMERICA.

It was d.i.c.k Merriwell's theory that in an encounter that promised to be unequal a sudden and surprising a.s.sault might more than outbalance the odds.

In this case he determined to put the theory to the test.

Brad understood d.i.c.k so thoroughly that it was not necessary for the latter to utter a word of command. He simply made a slight signal that was un.o.bserved by the Greeks, and when he leaped forward the Texan was at his shoulder.

It was a daring thing to do, considering the fact that Maro, the younger man, had drawn a knife. Still d.i.c.k knew they would be compelled to fight or surrender the girl, and he had no thought of following the latter course. As it was necessary to fight, it was better to attack than to wait for the attack.

Merriwell singled out the man with the knife. Before the fellow realized what was happening, the boy was on him. Then Maro tried to lift the knife for the purpose of using it, at the same time uttering a snarl of astonished rage.

That snarl was broken midway, for d.i.c.k seized the fellow's right wrist with his left hand, preventing him from making a stroke with the gleaming blade. At the same time the daring American lad gave Maro an awful jolt with his right.

d.i.c.k knew how to put force into a blow, and he knew how to land a blow that would put the other fellow "all to the bad." That punch, backed with the boy's weight, simply knocked the wind out of his antagonist.

Then d.i.c.k gave the man's wrist a wrench that seemed to snap the bones.

The knife flew from Maro's fingers and struck with a clang against a p.r.o.ne and headless marble statue.

Having succeeded thus swiftly in disarming the rascal and knocking the wind out of him, d.i.c.k felt confident that he had accomplished the most difficult part of the task.

In the meantime Buckhart, roaring like an angry bull, went at Tyrus Helorus. The older Greek was no mean antagonist. He side-stepped in a manner that enabled him to avoid the full fury of the Texan's rush, at the same time seeking to get hold of the boy with his powerful hands.

"Fool American!" he grated.

"Whoop!" shouted Brad, wheeling and coming at the man again. "Shades of Crockett and Bowie! you're some spry on your feet!"

The Greek clutched Brad's collar.

"Ha!" he cried in satisfaction.

"Ha! yourself, and see how you like it!" said Brad, as he delivered a body blow in the ribs.

But that blow, although struck with just as much force, perhaps, was not as effective as the one struck by d.i.c.k, for the reason that it did not land on the spot to count as heavily.

The Greek jerked Brad nearer and fastened both hands on him.

"Fool!" he said again.

Then he gathered the lad in his arms.

"I've been hugged by grizzly bears," said Buckhart, in relating the adventure afterward, "but I certain allow that that old Greek gent sure could out-hug them all. When he closed in on me I heard a general cracking sound all round my anatomy, and I allowed at least nine of my ribs was bu'sted then and there. I sure did."

In fact, Brad was robbed of his strength by that squeeze, and, for the time being, was helpless in the power of Tyrus Helorus.

Professor Gunn had been hopping round, first on one foot and then on the other. He was terribly excited, but suddenly, in a most astonishing manner, he flew at the fellow who seemed to be crushing Brad.

"Let that boy go, you wretch!" he cried, in a high-pitched voice. "Don't you dare hurt one of my boys!"

Then he proceeded to claw at Tyrus in a manner that bewildered and confused the man for the time being.

The Greek relaxed his hold on Buckhart, enabling Brad to get a breath.

With a wrench and a squirm the Texan twisted clear. He half dropped, and then his arms closed about the knees of the man. A moment later the Greek was lifted clear of his feet and pitched headlong against a marble slab.

The shock seemed to stun him.

"Much obliged, professor," panted Buckhart. "You certain chipped into the game at just the right juncture."

"Hum! ha!" burst from Zenas, who suddenly realized that he had done something. "They want to look out for me when I get started. I'm dangerous-exceedingly dangerous."

By this time d.i.c.k had punished the younger Greek in a manner that led him to take to his heels in the effort to escape.

"Stop him!" shrilled Zenas.

"Let him go!" exclaimed the boy promptly. "If he'll keep on running I'll be pleased."

Maro dashed in amid the ruins of the Parthenon and disappeared.

Tyrus lay where he had fallen.

"My goodness!" exclaimed Zenas, gazing in apprehension at the prostrate man. "I hope I didn't kill him-I really hope I didn't. Of course, it was in self-defense-or, rather, in defense of one of my boys; but still I hope I didn't finish him when I struck him that last terrible blow."

The old man seemed to really believe he had knocked the Greek down.