In Ben's nature was a strong love of justice. He had ever been a champion of the weak, and an injury inflicted by a strong arm on one incapable of resistance was an outrage on his own sensitiveness, that had involved him in many a rough-and-tumble while a boy at school and college. As the man shook off his fair companion's hand and the cane was about descending again on the shrinking person of the boy, he interposed his arm and caught the blow upon it.
"Don't strike the boy, sir. Please do not hit him. Even if he has done wrong a beating will not improve him." As he thus expostulated with the man he became conscious of a pair of great, glorious, grey eyes, that fairly glowed in the dark, looking gratefully upon him from out the folds of a snowy nubia, and a very melodious voice seconding his own entreaties, with:
"I'm sure you are mistaken, Arthur. This gentleman is right. Pray do not strike the boy again."
But Ben's observations reached no farther, for the man gave him a stinging blow across the face with the cane, exclaiming fiercely:
"Confound your impudence, who asked you to interfere!" The next moment the man lay at length in the gutter, having been sent there by a powerful and well directed blow with which, in the heat of the moment, Ben had resented the indignity received by him.
The next instant he repented such an act in the presence of a lady and turned to apologize, when a warning voice cried, "Look out! He is armed!" and he saw that his opponent had regained his feet and was drawing a weapon from his pocket. What the result might have been, had the man been allowed to use his revolver, is not difficult to surmise. A shot at such close quarters would probably have suddenly terminated Ben's tramp, had not the boy who gave the warning struck the man on the head with a stone before he had an opportunity to use the weapon he was uncovering. The blow was a severe one, and felled him senseless to the pavement.
"Come, come!" cried the boy, "Let us get away from here!"
But Ben would not leave his fallen enemy without ascertaining the extent of his injuries, and he immediately offered his assistance to the young lady, who now stood beside her senseless escort, wringing her hands, and vainly imploring him to arise. He had been only stunned, however, and as Ben stooped over him showed signs of returning consciousness. Attempting to rise to his feet, he found himself still too dazed from the effects of the blow, and would have fallen had not Cleveland supported him.
"I am very sorry this should have occurred, Miss, but realty this gentleman is alone responsible for it," said Ben apologetically.
"Yes," she replied graciously. "No doubt you are right, sir. I do not think the boy intended any wrong, but—but Arthur was ill tempered on account of other matters, and—allowed his anger to vent itself on the first object it came across."