“Oh, don’t!” sobbed the poor boy. “It’ll hurt me.”
“No, it won’t! Don’t be a cry baby. We’ll make a man of you.”
But Tommy was not persuaded. He jumped up, and tried to make his escape. But, of course, there was no chance for him. Jim Smith overtook him in a couple of strides, and seizing him roughly by the collar, dragged him to the blanket, which by this time Palmer and one of the other boys, who had been impressed into the service reluctantly, were holding.
Jim Smith, taking up Tommy bodily, threw him into the blanket, and then seizing one end, gave it a violent toss. Up went the boy into the air, and tumbling back again into the blanket was raised again.
“Raise him, boys!” shouted Jim. “Give him a hoist!”
Then it was that Tommy screamed, and Hector heard his cry for help.
He came rushing round the corner of the building, and comprehended, at a glance, what was going on.
Naturally his hot indignation was much stirred.
“For shame, you brutes!” he cried. “Stop that!”
If there was anyone whom Jim Smith did not want to see at this moment, it was Hector Roscoe. He would much rather have seen one of the ushers. He saw that he was in a scrape, but his pride would not allow him to back out.