[HE SENT THE ICY SNOWBALL WHIZZING AS THOUGH FROM A CATAPULT.]
Straight as an arrow it found its mark. It struck the stranger just at the base of the skull and he went down like a bullock smitten by an axe.
A wild cheer rose from the crowd as they saw the man fall. The next minute Joe had swarmed up the lumber pile with the agility of a monkey and clasped the baby in his arms.
He was rapidly followed by others, who secured the stranger. Ropes were called for, and he was bound before he could recover consciousness. A doctor who was in the crowd examined him and found that he was suffering from shock but that his skull had not been fractured and there would be no serious results from the blow.
In the meantime, Joe was surrounded by a delirious throng that clapped him on the back, tried to grasp his hand, and in general deported itself as though it had just escaped from an asylum.
“What’s the matter with Matson?” shouted one enthusiast.
“He’s all right!” yelled the crowd.
“Who’s all right?”
“Joe Matson!” came back the shout in undiminished volume.