Arthur’s blood boiled at these words. How could anybody be so cruel? Would the boy dare beat his dog?
The heavy switch was uplifted and brought down with vicious force on the animal’s back. The dog uttered a sharp cry of pain and terror.
Again was the switch lifted; but before it could descend it was snatched from the boy’s hand and flung away; while he was confronted by a sturdy young figure with blazing eyes. “How dare you strike my dog?” cried Arthur, in a voice that choked and trembled with anger. “He is mine! My very own! And I won’t have him hurt. I won’t, I say.”
The other boy stared at this one in open-mouthed amazement, while the tramps, who had been startled by the sight of the strange little figure, as it dashed into their camp from the dark forest, now gathered about the two to see the fun.
“Well, my bantam,” said the big tramp to Arthur, “I don’t know who you are, nor where you come from; but you talk pretty big about your dog. Kid here says it’s his dog, and I reckon you’ll have to settle it between you. Can you fight?”
“I don’t want to fight,” replied Arthur, looking the big tramp bravely in the face.
“Oh, well then, it’s the Kid’s dog, and he’ll do as he pleases with him. Kid, give the cur a kick.”
The boy lifted his foot but again Arthur sprang in front of him. “You sha’n’t kick him, even if I have to fight you to make you stop it!” he cried. Then he clenched his fists, and his face grew very pale.
“That’s right, sonny!” said the big tramp, approvingly. “I’ll back you and hold your picture-book and nosegay. Take off your jacket like a little man. Now, fellers, form a ring and give the bantams a fair show.”