The two hired men, one of whom had secured a clothes line, now advanced on our friends. The farmer stood ready to back them up with his gun, and the boys had had no chance to get a weapon, even had they desired to do so, which they probably did not, as they were not of the fighting class.
“You’d better not touch us!” threatened Jerry.
“No! Hands off!” ordered Bob.
“Hear ’em talk!” mocked Bill. “Do ye think we kin handle ’em, Sam?”
“I reckon so. You take th’ tall feller, an’ I’ll tackle th’ other two. Th’ old man looks harmless.”
“I’ll attend t’ him,” remarked the farmer. “I reckon Si Muggins ain’t forgot how t’ shoot.”
The two hired men came rapidly forward. Sam laid a hand on the shoulder of Bob. The fat lad shrunk away, and looked to Jerry for a signal as to what to do. That youth, as Bill approached him, drew back his arm to deliver a blow. In another moment there would have been a fight, but the professor, looking up, and probably realizing for the first time what was going on, exclaimed:
“Easy, boys. We’ll arbitrate this. Let them take you, and don’t resist. The proper authorities will settle this.”
“That’s what they will!” declared Mr. Muggins, shaking his gun. “Tie ’em up, Bill an’ Sam.”