“That would be like your notion of fair play! Oh! drop the stick an’ come on with your fists! I’m not afraid of you.”
The probable result of such a duel remains a problem; any slight advantage in age was on Leon’s side, but each alert movement of the boy scout showed that he possessed eye, mind, and muscle trained to the fullest to cope with any situation that might arise. Whoever might prove victor, the expedition to Varney’s Paintpot would have been abruptly frustrated by a fight among the exploring party, had not Marcoo the tactful interfered.
“Oh! what’s the use of fighting about a chip’?” he cried, thrusting a plump shoulder between the bristling combatants. “It’s just this way, Leon: Nix is right; it’s a mean business, trying to force that chipmunk out of its hole for the dog to catch it! You can withdraw the stick right now, come with us an’ share our luncheon; or you can go off on your own hook—and you don’t get a crumb out of the basket—we’ll find the Paintpot without you!”
Leon drew a long wavering breath, looking at Colin for support.
But Public Opinion as represented by the two younger boys, was by this time entirely with the scout. For it is the genius among boys, as among grown-ups, who voices what lies hidden and unexpressed, in the hearts of others; we are always moved by the bold utterance of that which we have surreptitiously felt ourselves.
Both Colin Estey and Marcoo had known what it was to feel their sense of pity and justice outraged by Leon’s persecuting methods. But it needed the trained boldness of the boy scout to put the sentiment into words; to be ready to fight for his knightly principles and win. For he had won.
Leon Chase fairly writhed at the choice set before him—at the necessity of yielding a point to the stranger! But he felt that it would be still more obnoxious to his feelings to be deserted by his companions, left to beat a solitary retreat homeward with his dog or wander—alone and fasting—through the woods, a boy hermit!
“All right! Have your way! Come along,” he cried crossly. “We’ll never get anywhere—that’s sure—if we waste any more time on a chipmunk!”
Withdrawing the stick from the enlarged aperture, he flung it away and scrambled to his feet, whistling to the dog.
It needed much moral suasion on the part of all four boys to lure the terrier away from the raided hole with whose earth his slim white legs were coated. But he presently consented to explore the woods further in search of diversion.