IN SELF-DEFENSE
“Look out, Dick; here’s trouble!” burst from the lips of Leslie Capes,
as he saw the dim forms of several boys rushing toward him and his chum.
Neither of them seemed to think of turning and running away. Perhaps
it was not in their natures to flee from such a visible danger as now
confronted them; for a boy has a peculiar idea of what constitutes his
sense of honor, and “showing the white feather” is usually considered
next door to cowardly.
Besides, they easily guessed the identity of the fellows who aimed to
attack them. In the first place they were three in number, and both
Dick and Leslie remembered that Nat Silmore had had two of his cronies
with him when ejected so forcibly from the Y. M. C. A. building.
It was true that the assailants had tried to conceal part of their
faces with their handkerchiefs, a trick they may have learned from
seeing it done in moving pictures of Western holdups. Dit had a
peculiar way of hunching himself along as he ran, with one shoulder
in advance of his body, and this trait was so well known to his
schoolmates that Dick quickly recognized it now.
As has been said before, it was rather dark where the ambuscade had
been laid. The bare bushes were dense, and several trees shut out such
light as the stars dotting the sky overhead chanced to give.
Both boys drew themselves up in a position of self-defense. They had
not done anything to invite this treacherous attack on the part of
Nat’s crowd; and at the same time they scorned to flee, with the jeers
of the enemy ringing in their ears.
Indeed, there was not much time given them to lay any elaborate plan of
campaign. Hardly had they backed up against each other, so as to show a
united front, than the enemy launched its attack.
Nat must have forgotten such lessons as he had learned on the football
field, regarding the force and value of a “flying wedge,” for all of
them came along in a string, each fellow for himself.
In that way it was easier for the two who were on the defensive to
hold their ground. Both boys were fairly well versed in boxing, for
athletics had always been a favorite amusement with them.
“That’s one for you!” snapped Dick, as he delivered a blow with all his
might, that hurled the leading figure back several paces.
“Oh!” this fellow was heard to exclaim, as he hastily put his hand
up to his face, perhaps to ascertain whether his nose had started to
bleeding.
Meanwhile, the other two had closed in, and there began a swift
exchange of blows in which Dick and Leslie seemed able to hold their
own, though one of the assailants, undoubtedly Nat, loomed up almost a
head above either of them, and had an extra long reach.
He was so clumsy in his fighting, however, that he could not duck fast
enough to avoid severe punishment, and every time Dick landed a blow he
could hear Nat give a grunt, as of mingled surprise and pain.
Of course, the two who were acting on the defensive did not come off
unscathed in such a gruelling contest. They stopped numerous uppercuts
with their bodies, but through their knowledge of boxing managed to
avoid the worst of the punishment.
For a full minute it was a pretty lively affair all around. The first
fellow had come out of his daze, after receiving that severe jolt; and,
burning with a desire to retaliate, was trying to work around so as to
attack the enemy in the rear, while his comrades held their attention
in front.
Things might have gone somewhat hard with Dick and his chum, for the
conflict was uneven, the odds in favor of the foe. Neither of them
dreamed of shouting out at the top of their lungs, calling for help.
Indeed, no doubt they would much rather have taken a beating than to
exhibit such weakness.
It was just at this stage of the struggle, when things were looking a
little gloomy for the chums, that Leslie happened to strike his foot
against something lying on the ground.
He could not see what it was, but some intuition told him he would be
well paid if he could find a chance to suddenly stoop, and groping with
his hand, investigate.
When his eager fingers closed upon quite a stout paling that must have
been knocked from the weather-beaten fence near by, he felt like giving
a whoop of sheer delight.
It was all in the game, and Leslie knew no reason why he should not
avail himself of this splendid opportunity for evening the score. Three
against two seemed heavy odds, according to his mind; and really that
paling must have been lying there for just the purpose to which he now
meant to put it.
Giving another cry of delight he proceeded to assail the astonished
and bewildered trio. Every time the cudgel descended there was a howl
of pain, and it was wonderful how quickly the enthusiasm of the three
assailants oozed out. As Leslie continued to belabor them right and
left they lost all desire to attack, and thought only of beating a
rapid retreat.
The patter of their fleeing footsteps died away in the near distance,
and the two panting chums held the battlefield in triumph.
“Wow! that was lively while it lasted, I tell you!” exclaimed Leslie,
between puffs. “I’m only sorry I didn’t get in as many hard licks on
Nat as I wanted. But he dodged after that first crack.”
“That was a lucky find of yours, I must say!” declared Dick. “You’d
better keep that old paling and hang it up in your den, decorated with
a blue ribbon, for it certainly took the cake.”
“We’d have fared badly only for my luck in running across it, I’m
afraid,” ventured Leslie, caressing his “lucky find” as though he had
already conceived more or less affection for the stick of wood.
“Yes, for both of us were getting winded, and say what you will, three
against two are big odds,” agreed Dick.
“But what under the sun did they do it for?” demanded the other, with
a vein of wonder, as well as indignation, in his voice. “We hadn’t
anything especial to do with their being thrown out tonight--that is,
more than the rest of the fellows.”
“Oh! I can explain that all right,” Dick told him, without any
hesitation.
“I wish you would then,” urged Leslie, “because it’s all Greek to me.”
[Illustration: THE PATTER OF THEIR FLEEING FOOTSTEPS DIED AWAY.]
“If you studied human nature more you wouldn’t have any trouble seeing
through a millstone that had a hole in it,” chuckled Dick. “It’s a
queer thing, but I’ve seen it crop up in little chaps not more than
three years old.”
“As how?” continued the other.
“Ever notice some urchin trip, and fall so as to hurt himself, and
how after he scrambles to his feet he kicks viciously at the nearest
person? He knows it was all his own fault, and yet seeks to lay the
blame on some one else. Well, Nat is built in just that same way,
according to my idea.”
“H’m, let’s see if I get you there, Dick,” remarked Leslie, slowly.
“You mean that he knows he was kicked out of the meeting by Harry
Bartlett and Mr. Holwell, but being afraid to strike back at _them_, he
made up his mind to get his revenge by tackling _you_--for I believe
they thought you’d be coming along here alone and they could jump on
you in a bunch. Is that the idea, Dick?”
“You’ve got it right, Leslie,” admitted the other, promptly. “Nat just
hates me because up to now he’s never been able to down me, though it
hasn’t been from lack of trying on his part, you understand.”
“Well, he can write down another failure,” laughed Leslie, tenderly
caressing his left cheek where a stray blow had glanced aside, though
leaving a slight abrasion of the skin.
“Thanks to you, mostly,” added Dick, slapping his chum on the back
heartily.
“My club, you mean,” corrected the other hastily. “As a general thing I
like to fight fair, but when you’re outnumbered, and things look pretty
dark, then’s the time ‘clubs are trumps,’ according to my notion.”
“If you meet up with any of those fellows tomorrow, take notice and see
if they have a pair of black eyes among them,” said Dick.
“I’m pretty sure one has!” declared his chum, “for I saw you give him a
straight-from-the-shoulder crack square in the face. How he did howl!”
“That must have been my first one, then,” agreed Dick. “I think the
fellow I got was Dit Hennesy, for I noticed his gait when he rushed us
like a mad bull.”
“Shall we go on now?” asked his chum.
“Well, we might as well, because they don’t mean to come back and try
a second round with us. The creek lies in that direction, and unless
I miss my guess, by this time they’re laving their bruises with cold
water, and telling each other how they’d have downed us only for you
picking up that paling.”
Leslie did not throw the “lucky find” away. Perhaps he meant to take
Dick’s advice, and keep it in a post of honor in his den at home. Then
when he had boy visitors he could point to it with pride as he narrated
the story of the hold-up.
“Want me to cross over lots with you to your house, Dick?” he asked,
presently, when they had reached the spot where their trails separated,
Dick having to scale a fence and cross a field in order to reach his
own home.
“Well, I should say not if I know it,” he replied, laughingly. “Things
have come to a pretty pass if a fellow can’t peep out nights without
having an armed guard and retainer at his side. No more danger from
that crowd, for tonight anyway, Leslie. See you in the morning.”
“Don’t get thinking too hard about that farce business, Dick,”
cautioned the other boy; “or you’ll lie awake nights losing sleep. But
if you do make up your mind to go in for that prize I’d like to wager
you’ll land it.”
“I wish I could believe that as easy as you do, Leslie,” sighed Dick,
thinking what a fine thing it would be for him to have twenty-five
dollars of his own to spend just as wished, even though most of it must
go for the clothes he needed badly.
“And don’t forget, Dick, Mr. Holwell was particular to say the prize
would be in _gold_. Why, for one, I don’t believe I ever saw that much
money in gold, outside of a bank. It’s worth working for. I only wish I
was a better hand at composition, and getting up jokes.”
“Why not try, anyhow, Leslie?” urged Dick. “The more there are in the
competition the better Mr. Holwell will be pleased. And for all your
modesty it might turn out that your farce was the best of the bunch.”
“Oh! well, p’raps I may try it, just for fun,” agreed the other. “But
if it reads as silly as I’m afraid it will, you’ll find me putting a
match to it in a hurry.”
“Let some one else be the judge before you do that,” suggested Dick.
“No fellow knows what he can do till he tries his level best.”
“I won’t make any promises,” was the way Leslie modestly “hedged,” for
he happened to be one of those boys who shrink from being laughed at.
So the two chums separated, Dick calling out at the last:
“If your face smarts a whole lot, Leslie, bathe it in cold water, and
then lay a rag saturated with witch hazel on it when you’re in bed.
It’ll pay to look after it tonight.”
“Guess I will,” came back from the semi-darkness; and then Dick,
whistling a strain or two of a favorite melody, started across the
field toward his house, which was not so far away from that of his chum
but that they had a home-made telephone connecting the two, over which
many an interesting confab was held from time to time.