CHAPTER IV.
PAUL PERKINS, MOTOR SCOOTER.
“You’d better keep out of this, Jack Curtiss,” warned Rob, not at all perturbed. “I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“Oh, you don’t! I suppose you didn’t have me sent to pris—I mean to a friend’s for a visit, and you didn’t try to fix Bill Bender? I’ve got some scores against you, Rob Blake, and I’m going to pay them out, right now.”
This tirade proved as astonishing to Hunt and his companions as it did to our boys. Rob and his friends had supposed that Curtiss and Bender were still in prison in the West for the part they had played in the cattle rustling raids. They did not know that influence had been brought to bear in their favor, and on account of their youth the lads had been released. Both had arrived in the village the day before, getting off the train at a distant station and driving to their homes unnoticed. That afternoon they had been taking a stroll in the woods, killing small animals and stoning birds. They were on their way home, when the noise of the encounter in the road attracted their attention.
But somehow, although Jack Curtiss’s arm was raised, it did not fall. Instead, he suddenly thought better of the matter, and retreated, mumbling angrily. Perhaps it had occurred to him that he was not in good odor in the village anyway, and to become mixed up in a fight or attack on the boys might result in his once again being compelled to leave the place.
“Come on, Jack,” put in Bill Bender; “no use mixing up in this thing. I hope that Rob Blake gets the thrashing he deserves, though, and——”
“I guess he won’t get it this time,” laughed Tubby, pointing to Hunt, who, the first shock of astonishment at the interruption over, sat nursing his face on the bank.
“Here, don’t you interfere,” said Lem Lonsdale, stepping forward threateningly.
“Huh! You want to fight, too?” demanded the fat boy, rolling up his sleeves pugnaciously.
“No; I’ll settle with you some other time,” responded Lonsdale, with all the dignity he could command.