"Would you have us see a woman in distress without showing our manhood?"
demanded Dick, as he also prepared for an encounter. "We'll protect her, Brad."
"Now you're shouting!" cried the Texan. "We'll certain check the careless behavior of those gents some."
"Englishmen-good Englishmen!" cried the girl; "save me!"
She was panting and wild-eyed as she reached them. She seized Dick's arm with her shaking hands. In truth she was very pretty, with clear-cut Grecian features and eyes as blue as the skies of Athens.
"We're not Englishmen," said Dick, "but you can count on us just the same."
"You bet you can, just as long as the American eagle flaps its wings to the tune of Yankee Doodle," asserted Brad.
Dick placed her behind them saying:
"Look out for her, professor, while we discuss the matter with these boisterous gentlemen."
"Boys, boys, boys!" again fluttered the old man. "Do be careful! Do be discreet! You'll get us all into no end of trouble."
By this time the two men had reached the spot, and the elder at once demanded in Greek the possession of the maiden.
"Although we've scanned that language under compulsion," said Dick, "we are not prepared to talk it. If you will use plain United States, we may be able to chat with you."
With an assumption of politeness, the man immediately begged their pardon in fairly good English, saying he had not thought in his excitement to address them in other than his own language.
"The girl," he said; "I take her."
"Wait a bit," remonstrated Merriwell, declining to move. "As you can talk a modern language, we'll discuss this matter. The girl seems frightened. What is all the trouble about?"
The elder man drew himself up haughtily, while the younger glowered on the boys.
"It is no bus'ness to you," was the answer.
"Then I opine we'll have to make it our business," muttered Buckhart.
"But she is frightened, and she seeks our protection," said Dick. "It is the habit of all decent Americans to protect women in distress."
"Let him not touch me!" entreated the girl, speaking again with that indescribably bewitching accent which Dick had noted in her first appeal to them.
"She mere child," said the man haughtily. "I am her uncle, and I take her."
"Oh, you're her uncle?"
"I am."
"Well, tell us why she fled from you and seemed so excited and frightened."
"No bus'ness to you," again asserted the man.
"He want make me do something I hate!" exclaimed the girl. "He make me marree Maro."
"Oh, ho! And who is Maro?"
The girl pointed at the younger man.
"And you do not wish to marry Maro?" questioned Dick.
"Oh, no, no, no!"
"Don't blame you," put in Brad. "If Maro wears that thundercloud on his mug all the time, he'd frighten a Hottentot, much more a civilized girl.
Go change your face, Maro."
The young man did not seem to understand this fully, but he darted a deadly look at Brad, then urged his companion to make a move at once.
"Look out, boys-look out!" panted Professor Gunn. "He says you are mere children and easily crushed. He wants to attack you at once."
"Whoop!" cried Brad, squaring away. "Let him wade right in! Let them both break loose and come at us! They'll find the children ready for business, you bet your boots!"
"Steady, Brad," cautioned Dick. "We'll fight if we have to."
"And I sure reckon we'll have to, pard."
"It looks that way, but let's not rush matters. Keep a cool head."
Dick feared the men were armed, which would give them an additional advantage. Under ordinary circumstances it would not seem a difficult thing for them to obtain the mastery over the two boys, but those boys, in spite of their years, were remarkable athletes and clever fighters, and they believed they could hold the Greeks good play unless deadly weapons were produced. Neither lad counted on assistance from Professor Gunn.
The elder man grew impatient and again demanded possession of the girl, asserting that the boys would be punished for interfering, as he was the one who had sole authority over her.
"Where is her father?" asked Dick. "Is he dead?"
"Not dead," explained the girl quickly. "In India. He leaf me with Tyrus."
"So the old boy's name is Tyrus?" muttered Brad.
"Tyrus Helorus," said the man haughtily. "If wise, you not int'fere in Greece with one who have name Helorus."
"The Helorus you say!" grinned Brad.
"That what I say!"
"Thanks! You're so kind! I reckon we'd better introduce ourselves.
Gents, this here is Dick Merriwell, a fighter from his toes to his scalp lock. He lives on scrimmages. To him a good fight is the breath of life.
If he goes a whole day without a fight he loses flesh and becomes a whole lot downcast. I've seen him whip seven men in concussion. He looks young, but he's fought enough to be older than these ruins. I'll wager the contents of my warbags that the professor and I can sit down and look on comfortable while he wallops the both of you in one round."
"That will about do," muttered Dick.
"Wait," urged Brad. "Don't cut me out of presenting myself. I, gents, am Bradley Buckhart, from the Rio Pecos country, Texas, U. S. I've been brought up where they have man for breakfast every morning. It gets to be a regular morning treat for us in Texas. I am some off my feed just at present, not having had any man this morning. You've happened along just in time to relieve my famished condition. So sail in, both of you, and we'll proceed to chaw you up. You hear me sweetly carol!"
The Greeks looked at him in bewilderment, and well they might. It is likely that they took this talk for a bluff; but, if so, they were soon to learn that Brad Buckhart was one of those rare bluffers who invariably "made good."