“I knew the Irishman was going to surprise him at the start,” he said. “Now he is out for blood. I’ll go something he takes this fall.”
All at once, in some astonishing manner, the Indian got under Barney and raised him into the air directly across his back.
Then Whirling Bear lifted Barney above his head to hurl him to the ground!
Frank saw a gleaming spirit of evil in the eyes of the savage.
Whirling Bear meant to injure, perhaps to kill, Barney.
He intended to cast the Irish youth down upon his head, and the prospect was that Barney’s neck would be broken instantly.
As the Indian dashed Barney to the ground, Frank caught him and kept him from falling on his head.
The Irish lad went down heavily, but he was not severely injured.
Whirling Bear gave a cry of anger when he saw what Merriwell had done, and then rushed at Frank.
Frank dodged and tripped the Indian with the greatest skill, so that the redskin was pitched forward on his face and stunned for the moment.
“If you will try the copper-skin a whirl, I’ll back you for any amount,” said Dan Carver, quietly.
Whirling Bear sat up, savagely glaring at the white boys.
“No can wrastle with two!” he growled. “One at time is ’nough. Why other white boy do something?”
“I simply kept you from murdering my friend,” said Frank. “You were trying to break his neck, and I saw it.”
“Sometime may get ’nother chance,” he said, and then walked away, paying no heed to the spectators who were calling for him to remain and settle the match by seeing who could get the third fall.
“Begorra! it’s a roight nate thrick he did whin he lifted me inther th’ air,” confessed Barney. “Sorry a bit do Oi know how he did it at all, at all!”
“I do not think I ever saw a throw made in that manner,” confessed Frank. “He went under you like an eel, and brought you up across his back and over his shoulder.”
“He is the champion wrestler of the Pueblos,” declared a spectator. “I did not fancy you would be able to throw him at all.”
“You should be proud to say you broke even with him,” declared another.
Frank felt a hand on his arm, and a voice said in his ear:
“The sun priests are resting. While they rest there will be a footrace, the same as white men run. Will you enter. Swiftwing says you are a great runner.”