When, for the third time, he fell back, with his young opponent standing erect and vigorous, the enthusiasm of the boys overcame the limits of prudence. There was a shout of approval, and the fallen champion, to add to his discomfiture, was forced to listen to his own hitherto subservient followers shouting, “Hurrah for the new boy! Hurrah for Hector Roscoe!”
This was too much for Jim.
He rose from the ground sullenly, looked about him with indignation which he could not control, and, shaking his fist, not at one boy in particular, but at the whole company, exclaimed: “You’ll be sorry for this, you fellows! You can leave me, and stand by the new boy if you want to, but you’ll be sorry for it. I’ll thrash you one by one, as I have often done before.”
“Try Roscoe first!” said one boy, jeeringly.
“I’ll try you first!” said Jim; and too angry to postpone his intention, he made a rush for the offender.
The latter, who knew he was no match for the angry bully, turned and fled. Jim prepared to follow him, when he was brought to by Hector placing himself in his path.
“Let that boy alone!” he said, sternly.
“What business is it of yours?” demanded Jim, doggedly; but he did not offer to renew the attack, however.
“It will be my business to put an end to your tyranny and bullying,” said Hector, undauntedly. “If you dare to touch one of these boys, you will have to meet me as well.”
Jim had had enough of encountering Hector. He did not care to make a humiliating spectacle of himself any more before his old flatterers. But his resources were not at an end.