“So ye’re goin’ to try an’ take the boy, are ye? Well, just come ahead. I’m good for th’ whole pack an’ parcel of ye.”
“Oh, you are?” cried Chot, his eyes blazing with anger. A peculiar smile played about his lips, which Tom and Fleet had grown to recognize as denoting great emotion. And now, as Chot sprang on to the deck of the catboat, yelling for Tom and Fleet to follow, the boys knew there would be “something doing.”
“Do you want me?” asked Pod.
“No; you stay and watch the canoes. And you, Ted, climb over the stern into Fleet’s canoe—that big one over there on the end.”
By this time Tom and Fleet had followed Chot on to the deck of the catboat, and with a bellow of rage the big captain rushed toward them.
“Into the water with him!” cried Chot, “and keep out of the way of his fists. If he thinks he can beat the Experience Club, he’s badly fooled.”
“That he is,” said Fleet.
Then the boys scattered so that, turn as he might, there was always a boy behind the captain. He realized that he was in a tight corner, but in his half-drunken rage he was blind to his best interests, so he rushed at Chot, who seemed to him to be the aggressor in the fight.
Chot easily evaded the rush, stepped lightly to one side, put out his foot, and the captain stumbled over it and sprawled his length on the deck. He arose, cursing, and rushed again. This time Tom was in his way. Tom, too, sidestepped and when the captain was even with him, gave him a blow in the stomach that doubled him up and sent him reeling on to the roof of the little cabin.
“My turn now!” cried Fleet, and before the captain could recover from Tom’s blow, or realize what was about to happen, the fleshy lad had lifted him almost bodily, shoved him to the edge of the boat and toppled him into the river. At this there were shouts of delight from Pod and Ted.