mpus! I've seen
all kinds of mobs, but I will allow that this reminds me of a regular
Judge Lynch crowd, and no mistake. Never judged a lot of youngsters
would get stirred up this way any whatever. They're on a regular
rampage."

He kept out of sight as far as possible, feeling that it was the most
"healthy" thing to do.

"Where is he?" demanded Collingwood, who was just ahead of
Merriwell--"where is the man who belongs to this coat? He must have come
in here! Did a man in his shirt sleeves come in here?"

"Yes, yes!" replied several. "What has he been doing?"

"Doing!" roared "Dear Old Bob," flushed with anger. "Why, he is the
creature that tried to bribe Merriwell!"

It seemed that this piece of business was generally known, for
Collingwood's words produced a roar of indignation.

Down at the rear end of the car a young man stood up and shouted:

"This way! Here he is! He can't get away!"

Then it seemed that the students all spotted their game at the same
moment, and there was a fierce scramble for that end of the car.

The hunted man saw them coming, and a desperate look settled on his
face.

"I'd as lief fall into the clutches of a whole tribe of Apache Indians!"
he gasped. "They're after my scalp for sure!"

He leaped to the door, and tore it open.

"Stop!" rang out the voice of Frank Merriwell. "You cannot escape, for
you will be killed if you leap from the train!"

The man hesitated one moment. He saw the college lads rushing down the
aisle, and then, although the train was making a speed of at least forty
miles an hour, he descended the steps.

Collingwood and Merriwell came out through the open door. As they
reached the platform, they saw the man clinging in the darkness at the
foot of the steps. He was in a crouching position, his hands clasping
the iron holds. In the gloom his face seemed fully as white as the
sleeves of his shirt, which fluttered in the breeze.

"For Heaven's sake, don't jump!" cried Frank.

Collingwood tried to grasp the man by the arm. As he did so, the
mysterious man dropped from the steps, instantly disappearing in the
darkness.

"He's gone!" gasped Frank, horrified.

"Yes, he is gone!" said Collingwood, hoarsely. "That's the end of him,
for surely he was killed when he struck the ground!"

CHAPTER XXIII.

SEEN AGAIN.

For two days Frank scanned all the newspapers for an account of the
finding of the body of an unknown man somewhere on the line of the