“Go for ’em!” whooped Lenning, nursing a bruised chin with both hands. “If they want a rough-house, give ’em a-plenty. There are only two of them and three of you. What are you hanging back for?”
Probably Lamson, Hummer, and Parkman had no great amount of courage, and Merriwell and Clancy looked rather formidable to them. Be that as it may, yet when Lenning had dropped to his knees his three companions had held back.
Now, under their leader’s urging, Hummer threw himself toward Frank. The latter side-stepped a savage blow and turned suddenly to put out a foot and trip Lamson, who was making a headlong rush at him from the side. Lamson fell sprawling into Hummer, and both dropped in a tangle. Clancy laughed.
“A little ground and lofty tumbling by Lamson and Hummer,” he remarked. “Why don’t you get up, Jode, and take a hand in this set-to yourself? Where’s your ginger? You’re not going to leave all this to your friends, are you?”
“Just a minute,” put in Frank, as Lenning, muttering wrathfully, struggled erect. “This thing can stop right where it is. Clancy and I don’t want to stir up any hard feelings. We came over from our camp this afternoon to arrange for a competition of some kind with you Gold Hill chaps. Now, let’s drop this and——”
“I’ll drop that red-headed freak over there,” cut in Lenning, “if it’s the last thing I ever do! Who wants any competitions with that Ophir bunch of yaps? All we want you fellows to do is to stay away from Camp Hawtrey and leave us alone.”
He was edging slowly toward Clancy, his face contorted with rage. Lenning wasn’t a pleasant sight, and Frank wondered how a fellow could give away to his temper in such fashion.
“That will do you, Lenning!” said he sternly. “Keep your shirt on—if you don’t want to get more than you bargain for.”
The glint in Clancy’s eyes meant trouble, and Frank knew that his red-headed chum would go the limit with Lenning if the latter got close enough for a fight. At this stage of the affair, when a one-sided scrimmage seemed inevitable, Bleeker and Hotchkiss, of the Gold Hill crowd, stepped out from behind a pile of rocks and rapidly approached the scenes. Hotchkiss, on his way, halted to cut the dog adrift, and the harassed brute vanished among the low hills like a streak.
“This will be fine news for Colonel Hawtrey!” exclaimed Bleeker, coming close to his camp mates. “He’ll be tickled to death when he hears about this—I don’t think. You must be going bug house, Jode!”