"Nonsense, Don! No brawling with people of this class," commanded his father, sternly.
The elder Melville reached out to restrain his son, but that seemed only to render the young man more furious. He rushed at Jack, aiming a kick.
"Don't you dare try that!" warned young Benson, his eyes flashing.
But Don, despite both warnings, did swing his foot. Jack dodged the impact, then darted in at the side, landing a blow on young Melville's chest that sent him staggering back.
"Strike me, will you?" flashed Don, throwing himself on guard.
George Melville, aghast at Jack's presumption in attacking his son, now stepped back, satisfied that Don must avenge the insult.
A dozen boys, talking over baseball nearly a block away, saw the start of this encounter.
"Fight! fight!" they yelled, gleefully, and raced down the street.
The cries readied the private office in the boatyard. Suspecting, partly, what might be up, Jacob Farnum snatched his hat, running out. David Pollard followed.
"You young puppy!" almost screamed. "I'll teach you a lesson that you need."