At the end of the fence they caught sight of Dixon and the others. A fierce fusillade of snowballs from both sides followed. Harry hit Dixon in the chest, and Boxy knocked off his cap.
“Go for ’em!” shouted Dixon, in a rage. “Hullo, there, Pete!” he yelled to Sully, who was out looking for him, and the principal of the gang soon joined the forces against the two members of the Zero Club.
Two to seven was an uneven contest, and it was not long before Harry and Boxy felt they were getting the worst of it.
“If only Jack and Andy were here!” panted Boxy. “Unless they come, we’ll have to turn tail and run.”
“I sha’n’t run,” said Harry, firmly. “Let’s direct all of our shots at Sully and Dixon. They are the leaders of the crowd, and if we can frighten them back the others will quickly follow.”
Boxy caught the suggestion, and it was carried out immediately. The result was that inside of two minutes Sully got three snowballs in his face and neck, and Dixon half a dozen all over him.
“Hi! that ain’t fair!” howled Dixon. “They’re throwing at me and nobody else!”
“Another volley on Dixon,” whispered Harry. “That’s the weak point now.”
And out flew the hard, white balls, and the bully’s toady received two more, this time both in the neck. The snow went down inside of his collar, causing him to yell from the cold.
“I—I can’t stand this!” he sputtered. “Why don’t you fellows do something?”