“Yet you appear to know that he is a boy,” insisted Tom sternly. “Come, now, if you won’t talk with me you’d better walk along with me, and we’ll find some one you’ll be more willing to answer.”
“How? I walk with you? Boy, do not be a fool,” retorted the swarthy one angrily. “I shall not walk with you. I do not like your company.”
“I’m not sure that I like yours, either,” retorted the boy. “But there are times when I cannot afford to be particular. Come, why should you object to walking along with me? All I propose is that we find the nearest constable and that you answer his questions. The constable will decide whether to hold you or not.”
“Step aside,” commanded the swarthy man imperiously. Full of outraged dignity he attempted to brush past the young skipper. But Tom Halstead, both firm and cool, now that his mind was made up, took a grip on the fellow’s left arm.
“Take your hand off! Let me go!” screamed the fellow, his eyes ablaze with passion. “Out of my way, idiot, and take yourself off!”
As the swarthy one struggled to free himself Tom only tightened his grip, much as the bull pup would have done.
“Don’t be disagreeable,” urged Tom. “Come, my request is a very proper one. I’m only asking you to go before one of the officers of the law. No honest man can really object to that.”
“You——” screamed the foreigner.
He shot his right hand suddenly into a jacket pocket. But Tom, watching every movement alertly, let go of the fellow’s left arm, making a bound and seizing his right arm with both strong hands. There was a fierce struggle, but Halstead’s muscles had been toughened by exercise and by many days of hard work at a steering wheel in rough weather. This slight man from another country was no match for the American boy.
Down they went to the flooring of the pier with a crash, but young Halstead was uppermost. In another twinkling he was bending the swarthy one’s right arm until that fellow was ready to sue for a truce.