On his way back, as he neared a cabin somewhat apart from the others, he heard voices in angry dispute. Turning a corner of the cabin he was just in time to see a boy of about his own age, but a good head taller, strike a vicious blow at a whimpering hunchback. In a flash Walter confronted the astonished young ruffian, eyes flashing and fists doubled.
“You coward!” he shouted. “You miserable coward, to strike a boy smaller than yourself, and a cripple!”
For an instant the other stared. Then his face darkened with an ugly scowl, and he advanced threateningly.
“Get out av here! This ain’t any av your business, ye city dude!” he growled.
“I’ll make it my business when you hit a little fellow like that,” replied Walter, edging between the bully and his victim.
“Want ter foight?” demanded the other.
“No, I don’t,” said Walter, “but I want you to leave that little chap alone.”
“Huh, yez do, do yez?” responded the other, and rushing in he aimed an ugly blow at Walter’s face. The fight was on.
And just here the young ruffian was treated to the greatest surprise of his bullying career. Instead of crushing his slight antagonist as he had contemptuously expected to, he lunged into empty space. The next instant he received a stinging blow fairly on the nose. For a moment he gasped from sheer surprise, then, with a howl of pain and rage, he rushed again.
To all appearances it was a most unequal match. The young backwoodsman was not only taller, but was heavy in proportion; his muscles were hardened by work and rough outdoor life in a sawmill village, and hard knocks had toughened him as well. In contrast, the city boy seemed slight and hopelessly at a disadvantage. But underneath that neat khaki jacket was a well-knit, wiry frame, and muscles developed in the home gymnasium. Moreover, Walter’s father believed in teaching a boy to take care of himself, and it was not for nothing that Walter had taken lessons in boxing and wrestling.