“He’s coming ashore to whip us!” exclaimed the tallest lad, almost dropping to the ground with laughter. “I hope he will; I’ve been taking sparring lessons of Professor Sullivan for a year, and I would like the fun of knocking him out of time. I can do it in three rounds, and I want you boys to stand back and leave him to me. I’ll paralyze him!”
The others were reluctant, each claiming the happiness of demolishing the countryman; but the tallest, who was called Rutherford, at last secured their pledge that they would keep their hands off and allow him to have all the fun to himself.
“I’ll try the cross-counter on him, the upper cut, and then I’ll land a left-hander on his jug’lar that’ll knock him stiff. Oh, how I ache to get him within reach!”
CHAPTER II
THE COLLISION
Meanwhile Ben Mayberry was vigorously working the log in toward shore. It moved slowly, but the current was sluggish, the space brief, and he was certain to land in a few minutes.
One of the stones struck Ben on the shoulder. It must have angered him, for instead of trying to dodge the rest, he used his pushing-pole with more energy than before and paid no heed to the missiles, several of which were stopped by his body.
It was plain that the valorous little fellow meant to attack the three city lads, who were pestering him not only with stones, but with taunts that were far more exasperating.