Giraffe, too, was swinging that club with his old-time vigor. True, he had no particular animosity against these native boys who thought they were only doing a patriotic duty; but Giraffe believed he had a right to fight for his property, and he claimed a quarter interest in that car, miserable affair though it was.
Had the Belgian boys been equipped with the same type of weapons as Thad and his chums it might have been a longer battle, for they would probably given as good as they took. Since the advantage was all on one side, save in numbers, the end was a foregone conclusion.
Some of the astonished boys started to run, then came back and took a second generous dose, before concluding that the game was up.
A signal was finally given which must have been the recall, for immediately the wielders of the whips and the club found their occupation gone, since their adversaries had retreated in hot haste.
Thad saw that they darted into the brush, and suspected their main object was to secure some sort of fighting material for themselves, after which they would likely return to the attack.
He did not want any more of that rough and tumble sort of scramble if it could be avoided; and a quick “getaway” was the one thing needful in such a case.
“Clear the road!” he called out, suiting his actions to his words by jumping forward to seize hold of the log, which with a few adroit turns he sent spinning into the ditch.
The others hastened to do their share, and in less time than it takes to tell it a passage had been made through the barricade.
“That’s enough!” called Thad, giving his orders with the precision of a military commander; “now get aboard, for we’re going to start off!”
Bumpus had been expecting something like this. Knowing his faculty for lagging he was already “legging” it for the car when Thad spoke. Thus he managed to clamber aboard in good time, and fall on his knees inside the tonneau of the car.