"Suppose they beat us and take away our boats?" demanded Howell Purdy, falling back. "You know—those Belden fellows can fight."
"Well! can't we?" demanded Fred Martin, panting and doubling his fists. "What are we—babies?"
"We won't fight—yet," put in Bobby, calmly. "Perhaps they don't realize that that is our fire and our potatoes."
"What'll we do?" asked Pee Wee, by no means anxious to advance.
"Come on," said Bobby; feeling dreadfully shaken inside, but too proud to show it. "Let's talk to them."
"Better get some clubs and go for them," growled Fred.
"No. They haven't clubs," declared Bobby. "Let's not start any fight."
He and Shiner and Mouser proceeded along the beach. They saw the Belden fellows scrambling for the hot potatoes, and shouting and skylarking.
"That's Larry Cronk—that fellow with the curly hair. Don't you remember, Bobby? He pitched for their club when we went over to beat them that day."
"I remember. And that's their first baseman—Ben Allen." Then Bobby raised his voice so the Belden crowd could hear him: "I say! that's our fire and those are our potatoes. We were just coming down to get them."