“Th’ same, bad cess to him! She was afther callin’ him ‘cousin’.”
“He is following them!” exclaimed Harry, softly. “You don’t suppose he will try any crooked work, do you?”
“Oi have a fancy Misther Harden can look out for hisself, me lads,” said Barney. “Oi’ll back him against Mr. Fenton.”
“Yaw,” said Hans. “When Parney says dot, id peen all right. He knows my pusiness.” Then the Dutch boy relapsed into a position of comfort again, while the jealous spy passed on, watching the couple ahead of him.
Five minutes later the boys were startled by the sound of excited voices and a feminine cry of alarm.
Barney seemed to be waiting for that sound, for he sprang away like a flash, and Bart Hodge was not far behind him. Through the shrubbery crashed the two, and, in a moment, reached a spot where they were able to see what was taking place.
One young man was rising from the ground, while another stood over him, with clinched fists, evidently having knocked him down. To the arm of the latter, begging him not to strike again, clung Iva St. Ives.
“Oi knew it!” chuckled Barney in delight. “It’s Fenton thot interfared, an’ th’ other b’y knocked him down.”
In truth, Fenton it was who was getting up from the ground, while it was plain that he had been struck by Harden.
“Oh, I’ll even this!” snarled the man who had received the blow.