"I knew something would happen," declared that worthy, as he picked up a monkey wrench, the only weapon at hand, and started off for the woods.
The girls followed him, Miss Prescott not having been vouchsafed anything but a most hurried explanation of what was going on. Just as Jake appeared on the scene Jimsy had received a terrific blow on the arm from one of the gipsy's cudgels. The boy's arm dropped as if paralyzed. With a howl of triumph the ruffian who had dealt him the blow rushed in on the injured lad. In another instant it would have looked bad indeed for Jimsy, but Roy, landing a hard blow against his assailant, hastened to his chum's rescue.
"You look after that fellow. I'll take care of this one," cried Jake, rushing into the mêlée, whirling his monkey wrench in a formidable manner.
The girls, huddled in a group, gazed on in frank alarm.
"Oh, they'll be killed!" shrilled Jess.
"Roy! Roy! Be careful!" cried Peggy.
"Oh, I wish we could get a policeman," cried Bess, clasping her hands nervously. But as it happened a policeman, even if such a personage had been within a dozen miles, was not needed. A clever blow from Roy laid the cudgel wielder low, and the other man, not liking the look of Jake's monkey wrench, capitulated by taking to his heels. The woman cowered back among the tents.
"Come on, let's be going," cried Roy, as he saw that the battle was over.
"Ouch! my wrist!" exclaimed Jimsy, wringing his left hand; "I believe that fellow has broken it."
"Let's have a look," said Roy, as the two boys made their way to the huddled group of girls.