To strike the Westerner pleased him now almost as well as a stroke against Merriwell.

He dropped the cards and pushed back, as if he feared the Kansan would leap at his throat.
"Wh-what do you mean ?" he demanded.
"On the gun-club grounds!" said Badger, rising from the table.

"You slipped some dynamite shells into Merriwell's box, and I got one of them.

It came near tearing my hand and arm to pieces, and it might have killed me.

No thanks to you that it didn't.