“I set it!”

At his feet was Harris, whom he had just rescued from the hell below, and the fellow had declared that he set the fire!

“You?”

“Yes,” said the wretch.  “I was crazy.  I found a match in my pocket, and I thought I was willing to roast if I could destroy you, so I set the fire.  Pretty soon I realized what I had done, but then I found it too late when I tried to beat it out.  The old steamer will go into the air in a few minutes, and we’ll all go with it, unless we can get off in the boats right away.”

“It would have served you right had I left you to your fate!” grated Frank, as he turned away.

He ran down to his stateroom to gather up some of the few little valuables he hoped to save.  He was not gone long, but when he returned, he found two boats had been launched and were pulling away, the persons in them being in great haste to get as far from the steamer as they could before the explosion.

Three or four women were in the first boat.

It was rather difficult to lower the boats in the heavy sea that was running, but the men were working swiftly, pushed by the terror of the coming disaster.

A little smoke curled up from the battened-down hatches.

As Frank reached the deck, he nearly ran against M. Rouen Montfort, who was carrying a pair of swords in scabbards, which seemed to be treasures he wished to save.

The Frenchman stopped and glared at Merry.

“Cursed Yankee!” he grated.  “I would like to put one of zese gude blades t’rough your heart!”

“Haven’t a doubt of it,” said Merriwell, coolly.  “That’s about the kind of a man I took you to be.”

Another boat got away, and the last boat was swung from the davits.

A sailor counted the men who remained and spoke to the captain.  The latter said: 

“At best, the boat will not hold them all.  There is one too many, at least.  Let the fellow in irons stay behind.”

Harris heard this, and fancied his doom was sealed.  He began to beg to be taken along, but one of the men gave him a kick.

The Frenchman turned on Frank.

“Do you hear?” he cried.  “One cannot go.  Do you make eet ze poor deval in ze iron? or do you dare fight me to see wheech one of us eet ees?  Eef you make eet ze poor devval, eet show you are ze cowarde.  Ha!  I theenk you do not dare to fight!”

He spat toward Merry to express his contempt.

“Let me fight him!” panted Diamond at Frank’s elbow.

“See that Harris is put into the boat!” ordered Merriwell.  “I fancy I can take care of this Frenchman.  If you do not get Harris into the boat I swear I will not enter it if I conquer Montfort!”

Then he whirled on the Frenchman.

“I accept your challenge!” he cried in clear tones.

Montfort uttered an exclamation of satisfaction.  He flung off his coat, saying: