“Now get out of this, you coward,” he exclaimed, grabbing Max’s shoulder and giving that worthy a good shove. “Be off and take your friends with you. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, treating a poor old woman this way.”
“Let’s give ’em a good punching,” muttered Tubby belligerently.
“That’s what I say,” chimed in Merritt; but Rob held back his two fire-eating chums.
“Oh, we’re not scared of the whole bunch of you namby-pamby sissies,” cried Hodge Berry, a hulking lad who, however, took good care to keep out of reach of Rob’s fists. He had once witnessed what they could do and had no desire for a personal experience. Now Max’s two city cousins chimed in.
“Why don’t you give those toy soldiers a good hiding?” said one.
“Yes; those Boy Scouts are too dern busy,” put in the other, a pale-faced, pimply lad of about seventeen.
But despite these brave remarks, neither of them made any effort to back up Max or Hodge Berry.
“All right for you. We’ll fix you some time,” snarled Max.
“Why not do it now?” inquired Tubby. “You’re four to three, that’s good odds.”
“Oh, we could lick you if we wanted to. We’ll do it, too, when you get back from Panama, if you ever do. I hope the ’gators eat you.”