," was the retort. "Ben he no want hang for
murder."

Frank realized that he was in a trap. Were he to fire at Del Norte it
was almost certain the hidden redskin would shoot from cover. In his
eagerness he had stepped into a bad snare. His wits worked swiftly to
discover a manner in which he might extricate himself.

"Del Norte," he quickly said, "listen to me. We have met here face to
face, and we are deadly enemies. The end of our enmity must be
destruction for one of us. There can be no other end."

"You are the one, Senor Merriwell," declared Del Norte. "Had you shot me
from cover you might have escaped. But now----"

"I never strike a foe from cover. We are face to face, and I propose
that we settle our trouble man to man in combat. I challenge you to
fight me."

"Heap fair," said Red Ben, from the shadows, satisfaction in his voice.

"Why should I agree?" cried Del Norte. "I have the best of you now. A
friend of mine has you covered, gringo dog, and he can shoot you down."

"Ben him no do it 'less forced," declared the hidden Indian. "Him make
fair offer. Let best man win. You kill him, you have gal. He kill you,
he git gal. Heap fair."

Plainly the redskin was delighted with the proposition, and Frank saw
this was the only way out of the trap.

"Select the weapons, Del Norte," he said. "I accept Red Ben as the
referee. It's plain he believes in fair play."

The Mexican realized there was no method of avoiding the encounter, so
he cried:

"It shall be knives, and I'll drive mine through your heart, cur of a
gringo! With pistols you would be my equal, but I know the art of
fighting with the knife, and I'll cut you to pieces!"

"Knives it shall be," agreed Frank, still holding the man covered. "If
you have a pistol, cast it aside. Should you try to shoot as you pretend
to drop the pistol, I'll drop you where you are."

Uttering a sneering laugh, Del Norte removed and flung aside his coat,
saying his pistol was in it. He produced a knife, the blade of which
glittered in the moonlight.

"I have no weapon of that sort," said Merry. "Have you another?"

"Here," called Red Ben.

Something whizzed through the air and fell at Frank's feet.

It was the Indian's hunting knife.

Del Norte was advancing, the moonlight showing a deadly look of hatred
on his face.

Merry dropped his rifle and flung off his coat in a twinkling. Stooping,
he caught up Red Ben's knife just as his foe rushed upon him.

With