“Grab him!” cried Moran. “Grab that oar!”
“You’ll get it over the head before you grab it!” threatened Denny. “Mind that, now!”
The fisherman swung his weapon, but he either had not calculated on the length of it, or he forgot that he was nearer to the wall than he had been at first. The blade of the oar caught in a hanging picture, and was entangled in the wire.
Denny, putting all his strength into the blow he had hoped would disable one of his assailants, was thrown off his balance. He toppled and nearly fell.
“Now we’ve got him!” yelled Kelly.
The cowardly men, attacking the single fisherman with overwhelming numbers, made a leap forward.
“Stop! Let him alone. We’ll call the police!” screamed Cora, and the other girls added their shrill voices to hers. They rushed into the cabin.
“The girls I raced with!” muttered Bruce. “We’ve no time to fool with them. Don’t mind them. Get at Shane!”
“Get at me, is it?” cried the fisherman. He had by this time disentangled the oar from the picture wire. Again he raised it over his head, intending to bring it down on Kelly.
As the red weapon descended Kelly shot up his hand and caught it. He twisted on the oar to wrest it from Denny’s grasp, and the two suddenly went to the floor, jarring the whole cabin.