This seemed to enrage Brave more than ever, and he sprang into the water, and swam toward the shore, and no amount of scolding on Frank's part could induce him to return. James, fearing that he was about to be punished in a way he had not thought of, turned and took to his heels.
At this moment a loud shout was heard, and several boys sprang over the fence into the road, and James was speedily overtaken and surrounded. They were a ragged, hard-looking set of fellows, and Frank knew that they were the Hillers; besides, he recognized the foremost of them as Lee Powell. They had their fishing-rods on their shoulders, and each boy carried in his hand a long string of trout.
"Look'e here, you spindle-shanked dandy," said Lee, striding up and laying hold of James's collar with no friendly hand, "does yer know who yer was a heavin' rocks at? Shall we punch him for yer?" he added, turning to Frank.
"No," answered Frank; "let him go; he's my cousin."
Lee accordingly released him, and James said, in a scarcely audible voice,
"I was only in fun."
"Oh, only playin', was yer?" said Lee; "that alters the case 'tirely—don't it, Pete?"
The boy appealed to nodded his assent, and Lee continued,
"We thought yer was in blood arnest. If yer had been, we wouldn't a left a grease-spot of yer—would we, Pete?"
"Mighty cl'ar of us," answered Pete.