CHAPTER VII
A LIVELY CARGO
"Hold on there, Chet!" cried Andy, as he saw Bob about to suffer for the trick he himself had played. The dude had hauled back his fist to strike the captain's son, who put himself in a position of defense.
"You can't stop me!" yelled Chet, making rapid motions with his fists.
Bob Trent shrank back.
"Stop, I say!" shouted Andy again, making a rush to get between the prospective combatants.
"Now you see what your fooling did," spoke Frank, in a low voice to his brother. "Why can't you cut it out?"
"Can't seem to," answered the fun-loving lad. "But I won't let 'em fight. I'll own up to Chet, and he can take it out of me if he likes."
"There!" suddenly cried Chet, as he landed a light blow on Bob's chest. "That'll teach you to dirty up my shoes, fill my pants full of sand and trip me up. There's another for you!"
He tried to strike the captain's son again, but Bob, though he was not a fighting lad, was a manly chap, who would stand up for his rights. Suddenly his fist shot forward and landed with no little force on the nose of the dude.
Once more Chet went down, not so gently as before, measuring his length in the sand. When he arose his face was red with anger, and his former immaculate attire was sadly ruffled.