“Great Cæsar!” he exclaimed, not wholly without dismay. “It’s Hobart Manton and a bunch of toughs! They’re after us, Bart, and we’re in for trouble!”
Both Frank and Bart thought of taking flight. It seemed folly to stop there and face nine ruffians who were armed with clubs. Bart caught up his coat and vest and started. As he ran something fell from his vest.
“Dropped my watch,” he exclaimed, stopping and turning back for it.
It was a valuable watch in a certain way, being a present from his mother. He thought a great deal of it. Instantly Frank stopped and turned back.
They did not find the watch at once. Just as Bart picked it up the thugs came rushing round both sides of the lumber pile and were upon them.
“Yah!” snarled the leader, who was very well dressed, yet who had a face that seemed flushed with drink. “We have ye! Don’t try to run!”
It was Hobart Manton himself.
“Manton,” muttered Merry.
“Yes, Manton!” cried the fellow.
“And Frost!” came from Bart, as he pointed at another of the gang. “There’s Frost!”