BAD LUCK AND GOOD
Of course Darry knew what this attack meant.
His enemy had been brooding over matters for a long time, and despairing
of accomplishing his end while Darry was armed with a gun, during his
daily visits to the big marsh, he had finally decided to lie in wait and
have it out on the road from the village.
Jim wisely backed himself up with a couple of allies in thus undertaking
to give his enemy that long-delayed whipping.
He had tried it once by himself and apparently had no relish to repeat
the experiment.
Perhaps it would have been the part of wisdom on the part of the young
life saver to have taken to his heels and beat a masterly retreat.
Great generals have done this same thing and considered it no dishonor
to save their army for another day.
To a high-spirited lad, however, it is the last thought, and many a
fellow will stand the chances of a beating rather than to turn his back
on the foe.
Of course there was no time to consider the matter.
The three disguised boys attacked him on all sides, and almost before
Darry knew what he was doing blows were being exchanged with a vim.
He fought gallantly and well, sending in just as many hard hits as his
knowledge of the game permitted.
Whenever he saw an opening he was quick to take advantage of the same,
and as a consequence first one of Jim's supporters and then the other
temporarily bit the dust, with a galaxy of stars floating before their
mental vision.
They were very much surprised.
True, they may have heard something about the fighting abilities of this
wonderful new boy; but Jim had kept declaring that only for his lame
hand he would surely have easily come out victor on that memorable day
of the first meeting, and they were forced to believe him.
Artful Jim was wise enough to do a great deal of jumping about, but
seemed quite willing his allies should meet with the brunt of the battle
while he saved himself for the finishing touches.
When Darry had tired himself out against Sim Clark and Bowser then his
time would have arrived.
Darry anticipated being whipped in the encounter.
It was not to be expected that one boy could hold his own against three
such tough customers as those opposed to him, since they would wear him
out.
Nevertheless, he declined to run at the beginning, and after a little it
was entirely out of the question for him to do so, since he lacked the
wind to conduct a flight.
So there was really nothing to do but stand and take what was coming to
him, at the same time give as good as he knew how.
They would never be able at any rate to say they had won an easy
victory.
By this time they were beautifully daubed with mud, as each appeared to
be the under dog while the minutes crept along.
Darry's only hope lay in the possibility of some one passing that way,
and as the day was so stormy, and few people ever took this road, his
chances were indeed slender.
Now the whole bunch seemed to be upon the ground alongside the road,
struggling like a pack of Kilkenny cats, the three aggressors having
their hands on Darry at one time in the endeavor to subdue him.
Suddenly Jim gave a hoarse cry.
"Haul off dere, fellers; somebody's comin'!" was what he ejaculated.
Immediately the other two sprang to their feet like a couple of deer,
afraid lest they be caught at their game; perhaps a vision of old Hank
Squires flashed before them, with the penitentiary in the background.
Darry, out of breath, but game to the last, made an ineffectual attempt
to hold one of his tormentors, catching the flying end of his jacket;
but such was the moment of Sim's upward movement, and the flimsy
character of his wearing apparel, that the entire section came away,
remaining in the grip of the enemy as he went tearing after his mates.
The three of them plunged into the bushes alongside the road, and were
lost to sight, leaving Darry half sitting up on the road, plastered with
mud, and ruefully surveying the strip of cloth in his hand.
After all it proved to be a false alarm, for no one came in sight.
Darry was not foolish enough to invite a further attack by remaining on
the ground after the enemy had temporarily withdrawn, so he gathered
himself together and continued along the road, feeling of his limbs to
ascertain just how seriously he had been bruised, and trying to scrape
some of the mud from his clothes.
He felt ashamed to let Mrs. Peake see him in this condition, for the
clothes had been Joe's, and naturally she would feel badly to discover
how they were now treated to a coating of mud.
But then the fact of his having such a joyful surprise for her would
discount any bad effect of his appearance.
Thinking thus, Darry put his hand eagerly into the inside pocket where
he had so carefully stowed the little leather pocket-book in which the
hundred dollar bill given him by Paul, as well as the amount which his
muskrat pelts had fetched at the hardware store, had been lodged.
The pocket-book was gone!
Poor Darry shivered as if someone had struck him a blow.
Could he have lost it while upon the shore with Paul Singleton and had
the angry sound claimed it as passage money for having allowed a victim
to escape?
No, he recollected very distinctly feeling it there as he started from
the office of the lawyer, after learning that Mr. Quarles was away.
Then it must have fallen out during his struggles on the road, for
several times he had been on his back, with those "wildcats" clawing at
him.
Despite the chances of meeting them again, and having the struggle
renewed, he deliberately turned back and quickly ran to the spot where
there were plain evidences to be seen of the free-for-all fight.
How eagerly he searched every foot of that territory, his heart,
figuratively speaking, in his throat with anxiety. But as the minutes
passed and he realized the hopeless character of his hunt it seemed to
drop like lead into his shoes, the change was so great.
Then there remained only one solution of the mystery--one of those young
rascals must have inserted a hand in his coat while they were struggling
there on the road and stolen the pocket-book with its contents.
His heart seemed almost broken, and he even contemplated rushing after
them to renew the battle and tear the prize from their possession; but a
little thought caused him to understand how foolish such a move would
be, for he had no idea as to what quarter they could he heading for when
they left him, unless it might be that shack in the swamp, and it would
be rash indeed for him to go there alone.
He tried to pluck up courage enough to go home, basing all his hopes on
Paul, who had seemed so very kind, and ready to help him out.
Of course Mrs. Peake was astonished at his appearance, but the rising
anger vanished when she learned who had been the cause of his
misfortunes--at least it was turned in the direction of Jim Dilks, and
she vowed that before another day had passed she would swear out a
warrant for his arrest, and go personally to see that Hank Squires did
his duty.
Depressed in spirits Darry crept away to change his clothes for some
others she brought him, also once belonging to Joe.
Mrs. Peake advised that the muddy garments be hung up until they dried,
when by a vigorous brushing they might be restored to something like
their former condition of cleanliness.
Accordingly, Darry first of all picked up the trousers and placed them
on a line in a corner of the room, where they could drip without soiling
the floor, he having spread a newspaper beneath.
Then he proceeded to attend to the coat in the same way.
While engaged in this he felt something bulky in one of the pockets and
smiled faintly as he remembered thrusting that portion of Sim's torn
coat there.
This he had done under the impression that Hank might consider it
conclusive evidence, calculated to convict the young ruffian beyond a
possibility of doubt.
It might just as well hang alongside the other garments, though Darry
did not intend removing the incriminating mud stains from the fragment.
As he drew the offending piece of cloth out he was thrilled to feel
something in the folds, and with trembling fingers he opened it out.
It seemed that with the portion of the coat that had come away in his
hands was one of the pockets, and out of this receptacle Darry quickly
drew something at which he stared as though he fancied he were dreaming.
_His pocket-book!_
Sim had undoubtedly snatched the same from his person as they wrestled
upon the ground, and having no other place in which to hide it at the
moment, had thrust it in the very outside pocket of his coat that a
minute later remained in the grip of the boy he had robbed.
Darry stared at it until he realized the amazing fortune that had so
kindly returned him his property, and then rolling over on the floor he
shook with wild laughter, so that Mrs. Peake came to the door in alarm
to see if he were ill.