"Come and get them!" was the defiant answer of the Ponka boys.
"That we will do!" answered Brush.
We all moved forward, and then followed a scene hard to describe. A terrific battle took place between us and the robbers; it was hand to hand, and shin to shin, for hands and feet were the only weapons used.
The Ponkas made a determined resistance. I cannot very well relate what happened around me; for I was engaged in a lively bout with an impish-looking little chap for whom I had taken a sudden and unreasonable spite. It was hard to get at him, for he was quick as a wild-cat in his movements, and he gave me a number of vicious blows before I could touch him. I noticed that he was more afraid of my brogans than of my fists; taking advantage of this, I pretended to lift my foot for a fierce kick; he hopped backwards, and, in so doing, bent his body toward me. Quick as a flash, I grasped his two braids, pulled his head down, and brought my right knee up against it with tremendous force, and he went sprawling in the snow.
"Frank, Frank, come here, quick!" It was Brush calling. I turned, and there he lay under two of the Ponkas, who were dealing him heavy blows. In a second I had dragged one of them off, and Brush had his footing again. Some one shouted, "They're running! they're running!" and the boys we were fighting broke loose. Then all of us school-boys chased the Ponkas, and drove them into their camp.
We were a bruised lot when we came back to the school; but we had our sleds.