“I don’t see one in sight,” rejoined Rob; “I guess it’s up to us to stop it.”
“Here’s where I get even for that tumble I took, Scout rules or no Scout rules,” muttered Tubby to himself as the three lads advanced.
Max Ramsay was contentedly munching a big red apple as they approached. He was too much, engrossed with laughing at the anger of the old woman and the mean pranks of his friends to notice the trio of determined looking lads nearing him. He had already swooped down on the stand and was now trying to divert the old woman’s attention from the raids of his companions.
“Drop that apple, Max Ramsay!”
That was the first warning that Max had that the three Scouts from Hampton were on the scene. He and his companions had, as Rob guessed, come down to the steamer to make trouble for the boys if they could. But on the way they had stopped to divert themselves at the old apple woman’s expense.
Max turned a trifle pale for an instant, but then he bethought himself of his companions and grew defiant again.
“As if I’d drop it for you,” he said sneeringly.
Rob’s arm flashed out and seized Max’s wrist. The next instant the apple was flying across the street.
“Ouch!” grunted Max, “what are you trying to do? Break my arm? Hey, fellows!”
His companions, their attention thus drawn, rallied to Max’s support. But Rob, crimson with just anger, never noticed them. Nothing made the young Scout leader more angry than cruelty or injustice to children, the old and feeble, or dumb animals. His eyes fairly blazed now as he faced Max, who looked mean and cringing beside him.