The tramp laughed.
“There ain’t no help near,” he said. “Go home and go to bed, and thank your lucky stars I didn’t brain ye.”
The two boys had listened in a fever of excitement. Neither liked Jacob Winter, but all their sympathies were with him. There was something coarse and repulsive about the tramp, and they could not bear to have him succeed.
“Are we going to stand this, Albert?” whispered Ben.
“No.”
“Stand by me, and I’ll do what I can.”
Ben had already espied the spade, and had made up his mind what he would do with it.
He sprang out from behind the tree, dashed forward and seized the implement without being heard by the tramp. With a look toward Albert, whose help he expected to need, he made another rush forward and fetched the unsuspecting robber a blow upon the back of his head.
Though it was a boy’s blow it was a heavy one, and with a cry of dismay the tramp dropped the box and raised his hand to the injured spot. Albert ran up, seized the box, and darted back.
“Wha—what’s all this?” exclaimed the tramp, turning back.