But Dowling had a gang of friends close at hand, and they made a scramble to get in. Within six seconds the jay was surrounded by them, and his peril seemed great, for they were ready to do him up.
“Put him out of the game!” panted Dowling. “Smash him!”
Then through the crowd about the imperiled pitcher came Dick. He was fierce as a young tiger in his charge, and he hurled himself straight at a man who was on the verge of striking the pitcher with a set of brass knuckles.
Had that blow fallen the jay would have pitched no more that day. As it was, the boy gave the man a punch in the stomach that doubled him up and caused him to fail in his dastardly attempt to “do up” the pitcher.
Old Joe did not remain idle. For all of his years, he followed the boy into the midst of the fray, and his arms seemed strong as iron bars when he thrust the thugs aside. From his lips came a shrill, piercing yell that was the war-whoop of a red man entering battle.
That was not all. From various points the crowd saw eight young men, brown, beardless, clear-eyed athletes, who leaped to take part in the struggle. One of them was the tall, stuttering fellow who had “haw-hawed” so much over the work of the pitcher, and now he roared:
“Gug-gug-give it to um! Knock the pup-pup-packin’ out of um!”
They seemed to be friends of the jay at the start, and this they quickly showed was the case, for they sailed into the thugs and knocked them right and left.
It was a lively fight, but it did not last long. Those young athletes made short work of the ruffians, quickly putting them to flight.