“Head ’em off!” yelled Nick.
Grabbing a tree limb about two feet long he hurled it toward the fugitives. It struck Colly Craighead on the arm. Before the exhausted boy could recover himself he had stumbled and fallen on the pile of aeroplanes.
The three Goosetowners were on him in an instant, trampling on the delicate models and striking right and left with broken silk-covered frames. Colly’s friends, in a last hopeless effort, frenzied with the sickening crack of their wrecked prides, made an attempt to rally. But it was useless.
Craighead rolled out of the wreckage and, bewildered with pain, tumbled over the river bank onto a bed of gravel. His three companions sprang after him. There was a momentary attempt to renew the battle by throwing gravel and such rocks as they could find. But each knew he was licked. Their assailants withdrew in contempt and rejoined the struggle yet in progress between the older boys.
Job Wilkes had apparently taken good advantage of his sneaking attack on Alex Conyers. When Hank Milleson had managed to pull the others off the prostrate pair, Wilkes was on Connie’s back with his hands around the under boy’s throat. Carrots Compton was nursing his jaw and temporarily out of the mix-up. Art Trevor had plunged to Connie’s aid.
“None o’ that!” roared Hank. “It’s one to one here. You wanted trouble an’ you got it.”
Without a pause Art swerved his attack to Hank. In an instant the two leaders were in each other’s arms and in another moment Art was on his back looking up into Hank’s half-smiling face. But the overconfident Hank held his opponent too lightly. Art had a smattering of wrestling knowledge. His face distorted with anger, he shut his eyes for a moment as if in surrender. As Hank gave him a laughing smack on the cheek the under boy whirled himself over with a snake-like wriggle and then shoved himself with a second lightning-like motion to his hands and knees.
The astonished Hank instantly recognized his danger from a wrestling standpoint, and threw himself heavily on Art’s back in an effort to crush him flat again. But the movement was what the “milksop” anticipated. Hank was quick enough with his body but he failed to duck his head. Art’s strong arms and legs met the crushing attack and then in a flash his right arm flew up and clamped Hank’s head in a vice.
There was a first sharp downward jerk of Trevor’s arm and Hank’s head slipped forward over the under boy’s shoulder. Another yank and Hank’s neck bones creaked. There was a groan from the boy on top as his heavy body bowed itself upward to lessen the pain and then, Art’s muscles quivering and his mouth open, his arm locked itself completely around Hank’s neck. With the same motion Art’s body bounded upward and the panting, struggling Hank shot into the air. As the flying body struck the ground with a crash, Art was up and on his opponent like a cat.