“Don’t kill Jack!” he cried.
“Hush!” pleaded Desiré, her eyes wide with fright. “Say a prayer that Jack will come out all right.”
The terrified little group watched the two adversaries roll over and over, pounding, grappling, struggling. Then Jack, with a quick twist, loosened the grasp of the other and sprang to his feet. With surprising swiftness, for a man so heavy, the enemy also righted himself and again leaped upon Jack. Back and forth they swayed, locked in a close embrace, each trying desperately to keep his own footing and trip the other. At times they stood stock still waiting to get breath and strength for a renewal of the contest. Then it began all over again.
Finally Jack succeeded in twisting one of his long legs quickly around one of his adversary’s, thereby throwing him heavily to the ground. With a leap, Jack was astride of him, pinning his arms to the earth. The man tried to roll sufficiently to throw him off, but Jack was too well placed to allow him very much motion. Weight, anger, and unskilled methods had worked against him; now Jack had complete advantage.
“Shall I give you what you deserve?” demanded Jack, after a moment’s pause.
“Nough!” muttered the man sullenly.
“Get off this route, then, and stay off of it; or next time—” threatened Jack, getting up. “Turn that team right around, and go back to Yarmouth, or wherever you come from!”
Slowly, keeping one eye on Jack the while, he obeyed. As soon as he was on the way, Desiré and the children ran toward their brother.
“Oh, Jack, aren’t you hurt somewhere?” demanded Desiré anxiously.
“Only a few bruises and scratches, thank God!” was the grateful response. “I kept wondering what you would do, poor child, if I were smashed up.”