“Hum” he chuckled. “If any of the airmen saw my maneuvers with those bags they’d think I was practicing to go over to Europe and drop bombs. Now what does that mean?” murmured the lad suddenly, and, with a quick start, Hiram slackened his speed, to study out the details of a lively scene in progress directly beneath him.
CHAPTER IV
THE UNDER DOG
“I’m not going to stand that!” suddenly shouted Hiram, and he started a spiral descent, on the spur of the moment.
The young airman was warm-hearted and impulsive. Hiram was usually in the midst of any “scrimmage” going on in his vicinity, but it was generally when his sympathy, or chivalry, were aroused from interest in others. Just now all that was manly in him awakened his natural championship of “the under dog in a fight.”
Just below him was a wide swampy spot, and about forty feet from the solid land, edging it on one side, were two men. One of them, portly and mean-faced, was waving a cane and shouting angrily at a younger companion. This individual was wading stumblingly towards him. His feet were mired in the soft, mushy soil, and the water came up to his waist.
Upon a little swamp-island was a ragged, barefooted boy of about sixteen. He had a broad piece of tree bark in his hand. This he was using as a scoop. Dipping it down in the black, watery mire near the edge of the swamp, he would lift it aloft. Then with a dash and a swing he would fling it at the retreating man in the water.
At a glance Hiram read the situation. The boy looked like a half-starved runaway. The old man resembled some cruel relative, or guardian. He was in a fury. Suddenly he seized a flat stone at his feet, and sent it whizzing through the air. It landed against the boy’s cheek, drawing the blood.
“Now’s your chance—make for him!” cried the older man.