He rose slowly from the ground, and began with a rueful face to rub the injured portion of his frame.
Thus left to himself James saw that there was no backing out. He had provoked the contest, and must take the consequences. What these were likely to be he was cheerfully reminded by Tom’s doleful face. He resolved to secure his co-operation if possible.
“Come along, Tom,” he urged. “Just help me a little, and I’ll manage him.”
“I can’t,” said Tom, dismally. “That plaguy rock’s worn a hole in my back.”
“I’ll stand you both,” said Harry, stoutly. “You’ve served me a mean trick, and you ought to be punished.”
Just then James noticed a stone about the size of his fist lying on the ground before him. It was a mean and cowardly impulse that led him to pick it up, and fire it full at our hero’s head. Had it struck him, the injury would have been serious, if not fatal; but Harry quickly divined his intention, and dropped suddenly to the ground. The stone passed harmlessly over his head.
“You shall pay for that, James Turner,” he said, angrily. “No one but a coward would do such a thing.”
As he spoke he sprang forward, and grappled with his adversary. James, having a premonition of defeat, defended himself poorly, flinging out blows at random. In less than a minute he, too, was prostrate, with Harry on top.
“Help!” he screamed, making desperate efforts to unseat his opponent.