“Yes; but never mind that; they will drown him; see how furious they are! Will you help him, Jim?”
“Not a bit of me,” replied the stubborn Jim, who was well content to see the tables turned on one who had so brutally ill-treated his young companion.
“Then I must try myself;” and so saying, the boy of thirteen rushed in among the crowd, and wildly tried to make his way to where his schoolfellow was being dragged by his persecutors.
Of course Jim had nothing for it but to back him up, and in a moment he was beside my young master.
“Let the boy be!” he shouted to those who carried Drift, in a voice so loud that for a moment the rabble stood quiet to hear.
In the midst of this silence Charlie shouted,—
“Hold on, Tom Drift, we’ll help you if we can.”
Instantly the crowd took up the name.
“Tom Drift! Yah! Souse Tom Drift! Roll Tom Drift in the mud! Yah! Tom Drift!”
And sure enough Tom Drift would have suffered the penalty prepared for him, despite Charlie’s attempt at rescue, had not help come at that moment from a most unexpected quarter.