They faced him, growling and storming, but irresolute. The fellow in the tree had now dropped down and joined his companions.
“We’re going to smash you for this,” he threatened, as he rolled up his sleeves.
Fred and the rest of the boys had gathered about Bobby ready to pitch in if need be, and the hostile groups faced each other frowningly. Fred suddenly set up a loud whistle, the well-known Rockledge call for aid.
“Look out, Bobby!” suddenly cried Pee Wee.
Bobby wheeled at the cry and saw the driver of the car, who had climbed the fence and was running to the help of his companions, holding a large stone in his hand.
He was not more than ten yards away and he raised the stone to hurl it at Bobby’s head.
But Bobby was too quick for him. In his pocket was the baseball with which he and Fred had been practicing. Like lightning he drew it out and threw it at the driver with all his strength.
The ball caught the fellow right below the breastbone and he doubled up like a jackknife. The stone dropped from his hand, and he sat down suddenly on the grass, trying to recover the breath that had been knocked out of him.
“Get the ball, Fred,” commanded Bobby, and like a flash Fred retrieved it and put it in Bobby’s hand. Then Fred gave another loud whistle for aid.
“Now,” said Bobby, as he whirled about and faced the group of enemies, who were fairly gasping with astonishment, “that takes care of two of you fellows. Want any more of our game?”