“I’m not fighting yet,” said Nat coolly, as he skillfully locked his legs in those of Pud and sent him to the ground with a wrestler’s trick. “I’m only getting ready to wallop you!”
Snaith, who had rushed at Jack with raised fists, was met by another left-hander that again sent him to the ground. And then, to the surprise of the rescuers, no less than that of the would-be hazers, Will, who had seemed so timid in the hands of his captors, rushed at Glen Forker, and before that bully could get out of the way, had dealt him a blow on the chest.
“There!” cried Will. “I guess we’re three to three now!”
“Good for you, youngster!” cried Jack heartily. “You’ve got more spunk than I gave you credit for. Hit him again!”
“Now, Pud, if you’ll get up, you and I will have our innings,” announced Nat to the lad he had thrown. “Suffering snufflebugs! but I guess the game isn’t so one-sided now.”
But, though Pud got up, he evinced no desire to come to close quarters with Nat. Instead, he sneaked to one side, muttering:
“You wait—that’s all! You just wait!”
“Well, I’m a pretty good waiter. I used to work in a hash foundry and a beanery,” said Nat with a smile.
Snaith, too, seemed to have had enough, for he sat on the ground rubbing a lump on his head, while as for Glen, he was in full retreat.
“I hope I didn’t hurt you, Snaith,” said Jack politely.