“Hi! who’s throwing snowballs!” exclaimed Roger, and then came another volley, and he was hit, and also Laura and one of the other girls. At once the girls fled into the house.
“Some rowdies, I suppose,” said Phil. “I’ve half a mind to go after them.”
“We can’t without our hats and coats,” answered Dave.
Just then came another shower of snowballs and Dave was hit again. This was too much for him, and despite the fact that he was bare-headed and wore a fine party suit, he leaped down on the sidewalk and started for the corner. Phil and Roger came after him. Ben rushed into the hallway, to catch up two of his father’s canes and his chums’ hats, and then he followed.
Those who had thrown the snowballs had not dreamed of being attacked, and it was not until Dave was almost on them that they started to run. There were three boys—two rather rough-looking characters. The third was well dressed, in a fur cap and overcoat lined with fur.
“Nat Poole!” cried Dave, when he got close to the well-dressed youth. “So this is your game, eh? Because Ben didn’t see fit to invite you to his party, you think it smart to throw snowballs at the girls!”
As he spoke Dave ran closer and suddenly gave the money-lender’s son a shove that sent him backwards in the snow.
“Hi, you let me alone!” burst out Nat, in alarm. “It ain’t fair to knock me down!”
By this time Dave’s chums had reached the scene, and seeing Nat down they gave their attention to the two others. They saw that they were roughs who hung around the railroad station and the saloons of Crumville. Without waiting, Ben threw a cane to Roger and sailed in, and the senator’s son followed. Both of the roughs received several severe blows and were then glad enough to slink away in the darkness.
When Nat got up he was thoroughly angry. He had hired the roughs to help him and now they had deserted the cause. He glared at Dave.