He was helpless in the clutch of the giant collegian.

The master seemed about to interfere, but Frank Merriwell confronted him
in a manner that spoke as plainly as words.

"Out of ze way!" snarled the man.

"Speaking to me?" inquired Merry, lifting his eyebrows.

"Oui! oui!"

"I am sorry, but I can't accommodate you till my friend gets through
with your servant, who was extremely fresh, like most Frenchmen."

"Zis to me!"

"Yes."

"Sare, I am M. Rouen Montfort, an' I--"

"It makes no difference to me if you are the high mogul of France. You
are on the deck of an English vessel, and you are dealing with
Americans."

The Frenchman flung his cigar aside and seemed to feel for a weapon.

Frank stood there quietly, his eyes watching every movement.

"If you have what you are seeking about your person," he said, with
perfect calmness, "I advise you not to draw it. If you do, as sure as