"Don't make a fuss, my pretty one; I will not harm you," replied Walk.
"Let go of me, Mr. Billcord! I thought you claimed to be a gentleman! Let go, or I will scream," panted Lily.
"I only want to take a little row with you, and I shall, you may depend upon that," added Walk, picking up the oar which had fallen on the beach. "Don't make a fuss, and I won't hurt you."
But Lily again renewed the struggle with all her might. Just at that moment, Paul Bristol and his mother came out of the cottage. The boy was a stout youth of fifteen, and, the moment he saw what was going on, he broke into a run.
CHAPTER II. THE SON OF TOIL FIGHTS HIS OWN BATTLE.
Paul Bristol seemed to have made only a couple of bounds before he had covered the distance between the cottage and the shore. He saw his sister struggling to release herself from the grasp of Walk Billcord. All the indignation Nature had portioned out to him was roused, and he did not stop to ask any questions. He did not even utter a word of warning or reproach.
His two fists were clinched in hard knots before he reached the scene of the encounter, and, without waiting to consider the situation, he planted a blow with his right fist between the two eyes of his sister's persecutor, and then did the same with the left. The effect was instant and decisive. Walk went over backwards upon the sand, and his hold upon the fair maiden was released.
By this time Mrs. Bristol had come to the spot, and, putting her arm around her panting, trembling daughter, she led her to the cottage without taking note of the result of the battle, though she could not help seeing that the tormentor had been vanquished in the first onslaught.