“I’ll show you!” he cried, recovering himself and bellowing with rage. “Mind yourself!”
But it was Anderson who should have minded. As he spoke, he made a mad rush at Ned, who, not wishing to hurt the man, simply sidestepped as the other came on. But he left one foot extended, and as Anderson came in contact with it he tripped.
Floundering wildly, he sought to retain his balance. But the effort was in vain.
Splash!
Over he went, spread-eagle fashion, face down into a pool of stagnant swamp water.
“Haw! Haw! Haw!” laughed Herc. “Say, mister, you’re so fond of water that you just have to wallow in it like a hog, don’t you?”
Anderson scrambled to his feet a sorry sight. Mud daubed his face and the front of his clothing. Mud was in his hair, his eyes, his nose, and his mouth.
“I’ll fix you,” he cried, making another dash at Ned, but this time the Dreadnought Boy simply caught the enraged fellow’s wrists and held them to his sides as easily as if he had been restraining a fractious child.
“Now, see here, Anderson,” he shot out, “you’ve had trouble enough for one day. Don’t look for more. Now get!”