There was a chorus of assent from the others and all six set to looking about for a victim who would not prove too willing. As Hal said to Chester, apparently there was no fun tossing a man who took it good naturedly.
At last the big fellow gave a howl of delight and dashed forward. Hal gazed after him. As the big fellow bounded forward, a slight figure in the first row turned and ran. But the big fellow overtook him and dragged him back.
"Here's one, men," he cried. "See, he doesn't want to come with me. He doesn't know what a good time he is going to have. We'll give him a good one."
The others lent a hand and dragged the unwilling captive forward. As they would have put him on the blanket, the youngster—for such the captive proved to be—protested.
"Some other time, fellows," he said. "I'm sick to-night. I hadn't ought to be out at all, but I couldn't stay in the tent any longer. I'll let you toss me in the blanket some other time, but please let me alone to-night."
From where Hal and Chester stood it was plain to see that the boy was telling the truth. His face was deathly pale and he looked very ill.
"Great Scott," said Hal, "they shouldn't torment him. He is telling the truth."
"Certainly he is," Chester agreed. "I believe the boy is very ill."
But the young French boy's protest fell on unheeding ears.
With loud guffaws the men grabbed hold of the blanket and sent the captive spinning aloft. Two, three times he rose and fell, and upon the last was still in the blanket. Apparently the men who held the blanket had not noticed this, however, for they were preparing to toss him aloft again. But Hal had detected the lad's condition. He decided it was time for some one to interfere, and as no one else apparently was ready to call a halt on the proceeding, he determined to take a hand himself.