Peter barred his way. Blueskin aimed a vicious blow at Craddock’s chest. The Sea Scout, in successfully evading the massive fist, stepped backwards. As he did so his rubber-soled shoes slithered on the stones, for no footgear is proof against the slippery quays of the West Country where fish have just been landed. He fell. The bully promptly dealt him a kick with his heavy sea-boot.
There is a limit to human endurance, even to that of a well-disciplined patrol of Scouts. In an instant Fred Heavitree planted himself between Blueskin and the prostrate Craddock.
Heavitree was the latest recruit to the “Otters.” He was a tall, slim youth of a somewhat retiring disposition, keen at his work and yet never before displaying any signs of unusual strength and activity. His chums were about to get one of life’s surprises; so was Blueskin.
“Keep back, you fellows,” cautioned Heavitree in a low yet compelling tone.
The bully, thinking he had an easy task, let out a terrific left. Had it reached its objective, Heavitree would have been lifted clean off his feet. The Sea Scout was unable to spring back out of harm’s way, because Craddock was still on the ground. Instead, without moving his feet, he inclined his body from the waist.
Blueskin’s fist met nothing more resisting than air. Before he could recover his balance, the Sea Scout had him properly. A tremendous thud as Heavitree’s left caught the bully fairly between the eyes was almost simultaneously followed by a heavy right straight to the solar plexus.
Heavitree stood his ground, guarding to meet a counter-attack. It was a judicious but unnecessary precaution, for Carlo Bone, his arms whirling like windmills, staggered backwards for three or four yards, and collapsed in a heap upon the rough pavement.
CHAPTER II
The Mascot
For some moments the Sea Scouts remained dumbfounded at their chum’s prowess. Heavitree, by far the least perturbed, stood silently regarding the prostrate form of his late antagonist.
“You’ve killed him, Fred,” exclaimed Wilson.