"Did you fellows do what he says?" demanded the conductor importantly.
"Sure they did. They pulled the gentlemen right out of them," piped up a voice in the background of the crowd—that of the ferret-faced youth.
"Gentlemen!" snorted Herc. "We'd call 'em hogs up our way!"
"We got up to give our seats to those two ladies, and are very sorry to have caused them this embarrassment," volunteered Ned. "But to see these two overfed fellows slip into the seats before we had hardly risen from them got our dander riz, and we undertook to put them out."
"Conductor, you will call a special policeman at the next station," shouted the man that Ned had hauled to his feet. "I'll make a charge against these desperate ruffians. They need a lesson."
Ned and Herc exchanged alarmed glances.
It might ruin their naval careers if, on the eve of joining their ship, they were to undergo the disgrace of an arrest.
"Better think it over," advised the conductor, who seemed disposed to make peace, and as he slipped by the boys, to regain his platform as the train slackened speed, he whispered:
"You'd best make a sneak, boys; that fellow is Dave Pulsifer, the big gun man, and the other's his brother. He's got lots of influence, and he means to make trouble for you."
Little as either of the Dreadnought Boys relished the idea of running away from trouble, yet the advice seemed good. They both knew enough of the law's delays to realize that, in the event of their being arrested on the red-faced man's charge, they would be liable to be held for some time before they could have chance of explaining the circumstances of the case to a magistrate.