“'Stop him!' shrieks Parker from astern.
“'Head him off! Tackle him!' bellers the big chap who was hangin' onto the detective.
“They tell me that discipline and obeyin' orders is as much in football as 'tis aboard ship. If that's so, every one of the Old Home House eleven was onto their jobs. There was five men between Willie and the hotel, and they all bore down on him like bats on a June bug.
“'Get him!' howls Parker, racin' to help.
“'Down him!' chimes in big Jim, his knee in poor Snow's back.
“'Run, Bearse! Run!' whoops the Pinkerton man, liftin' his mouth out of the sand.
“He run—don't you worry about that! Likewise he dodged. One chap swooped at him, and he ducked under his arms. Another made a dive, and he jumped over him. The third one he pushed one side with his hand. 'Pushed!' did I say? 'Knocked' would be better, for the feller—the carpenter 'twas—went over and over like a barrel rollin' down hill. But there was two more left, and one of 'em was bound to have him.
“Then a window upstairs banged open.
“'Oh, Mr. Bearse!' screamed a voice—Grace Sterzer's voice. 'Don't let them get you!'
“We all heard her, in spite of the shoutin' and racket. Willie heard her, too. The two fellers, one at each side, was almost on him, when he stopped, looked up, jumped back, and, as cool as a rain barrel in January, he dropped that ball and kicked it.