"'Taint so," bawled the fellow, indignantly. "He just went and knocked me down two times, and here he goes now waving his old fist under my nose like he wanted to do it some more. Call him off, Elmer, the game's all up and we cave!"
"All right, boys, glad to hear it," sang out the patrol leader; "but before we let you go we're bound to have a look at every one of your faces, so we can know you again."
There was more or less muttering at this, for the Fairfield boys began to see that they were doubtless in for considerable unenviable publicity on account of the affair. But beggars can seldom be choosers. They found themselves helpless in the hands of their enemies, and must do exactly what they were told.
So Elmer took out his match-safe and prepared to strike a light.
"See if you know the fellow you've got hold of, boys," he called.
Then the little illumination flared up.
"I know this duck all right!" called out Toby. "He's Dick Rawlings who used to play center field on the Fairfield nine."
"And I've got Eddie Johnston, just as I expected!" announced Lil Artha who, it will be remembered, had seized upon the leader of the quartette by whom he had been stopped on the road with the demand that he ride, whether he wanted to do so or not.
"I don't seem to know this cowardly cub," declared Nat, who had lighted a match on his own account, and bent low over his prisoner. "He makes the worst faces you ever saw, just to keep me from knowing him again. Here, stop your throwing your head around that way, or else you'll get burned! Hey! what did I tell you? Got a little dose of it then, did you? And one of your eyebrows singed right off! Well, you will be a beaut for a while now, and I reckon I can put my finger on you any time I want."
"You did that apurpose!" shouted the fellow on the ground, glaring at the grinning Nat. "You just wanted to mark me, that's what!"