“He caught sight of the Tombs prison.”
Allan was the best runner in the Hazenfield high school nine, and a hundred feet beyond the corner he came upon a group of boys who had the camera between them, and who in another moment would have been out of sight in one of the alleys.
“I’ll take that,” said Allan to a big, rough fellow who had his fingers on the carrying strap.
“Who said so?” was the response.
Allan caught hold of the camera, but the big fellow held fast, and gave Allan a violent push with his left hand. A little crowd sprang up around Allan instantly, and several of the boys began to jostle him and to pull at his coat.
Allan knew that in trouble of this sort it was necessary to get rid of the biggest enemy first, and, still holding the camera with his left hand, he struck his biggest enemy squarely in the face. As the other fell sprawling over the sill of a grocer’s shop, Allan wrested the camera free, and, turning about, he struck quickly at two of his other assailants, clearing a space about him.
It was a very uneven affair, for Allan was hampered by the camera. Each of the others had two hands to his one. But Allan fought furiously, and might have made a very good defence with his single hand had not his big enemy, regaining his feet, approached Allan from behind, and, throwing his arms about him, flung him to the walk.
“Soak him, Pete!” yelled several of the boys, gathering for a chance to use their feet.
Pete was powerful, but in agility he was no match for Allan. In a moment Allan had Pete under him; but he had lost hold of the camera.
One of the boys, with a shout, grasped the black box and started to run. He did run—plump into the hands of a policeman.