“Goody! Here they come!” cried the anxious girls, dancing in joy. “Oh, hurry, hurry!”
Slim Conner heard, and glimpsed the reinforcements dashing down the slope for the scene. He heard the shouts, and his mind acted quickly:
“Cheese it, lads! Here’s the hull crowd!” he warned, hoarsely.
“Come away, Mike!” warned Patsy, tugging at his brother.
Mike wrenched himself loose from the grip of the prostrate Ned, and with a final kick at his victim’s head ducked through the circle; and off, up the road, ran the South Beauforters, dragging their bob.
Hal and Tom and the rest of the rescuers arrived too late, although they had ditched their bob, without waiting for it to stop, and had rolled into the midst of the ring.
A few of the boys chased the South Beauforters a block or two, just as a threat; but Hal and Tom stayed to attend to Ned.
“Shucks, he didn’t hurt me a bit,” vowed Ned, scorning assistance as he scrambled to his feet.
“You’re going to have a black eye, all right enough, though,” assured Tom.