“Leastways,” he said to himself as he took the trail of the aeroplane-laden boys, “I done what I could. I’ll foller along now an’ see what kind o’ front the ginks can put up. An’ there’s a chanst ’at Carrots may need a little help ’fore he puts over that jumpin’ act he promised.”
Alex Conyers made a last appeal to Art to stick to the railroad until it crossed the pike. He tried to argue that this was the natural road to reach the place where they meant to start their program. If there was any one in the[36] crowd that approved this change of plans he did not speak.
“Kids,” exclaimed Art pompously3 as he gave Connie a look of impatience—almost of defiance4—and pointed5 straight up the river toward the old sycamore, “there lies our path.”
“Come on, them ’ats comin’,” shouted another voice and Sammy Addington sprang forward, scrambling6 down the steep embankment toward the almost certain field of battle.
His fellow club members, even to Alex Conyers, fell into his wake. When a wire fence was reached there was a pause. In the short interval7 Hank Milleson joined the party.
“Say, kiddos,” he began anew, apparently8 in good humor, “how about comps to the show? If they’s any free passes I’d like to give the gang an invite.”
“You saw the bill,” exclaimed Conyers, glad of any chance to placate9 the enemy. “It says admission free.”
“Free to decent kids, not to bums11 and loafers,” broke in Art angrily. “You can’t put that over on us, Flatfoot,” he shouted.
“Say, Artie,” replied Hank slowly. “I[37] guess I’m a loafer, but I ain’t a bum10. Ain’t you gettin’ purty fresh?”
“What you goin’ to do about it?”
“Me? Oh, nothin’—now. But don’t call me no bum. Tain’t nothin’ to call a kid a ‘sis’ or a ‘milksop.’ But it kind o’ means sumpin’ bad to call him a bum. A bum’s a feller ’at hangs ’round saloons—or a hobo. I ain’t that—yet.”
This speech created a sensation among the still panting boys. Even their impulsive12 leader flushed. At any other time Art’s sense of fairness would have made him sorry for his words. Now, afraid of showing weakness, he made matters worse.
“That kind of stuff ain’t a goin’ to get our goat, Flatfoot,” he retorted. “Come on, boys!”
In another instant the crowd had worked itself through the fence and was advancing toward the big tree. For a moment Alex Conyers lingered behind where Hank Milleson, still smoking his pipe, leaned against a post.
“You belong to that gang, don’t you?” remarked Hank.
“Yes,” answered Connie.
[38]
“You licked Matt Branson once, didn’t you? When Matt was going to school?”
“He said he had enough,” confessed Connie.
“Well,” added Hank clearing the fence with a bound, “fur the good o’ everybody I think you and me better move along.”
Before Hank and Connie caught the advancing party it had come to a sudden halt. Seven shiftless, carelessly dressed young idlers who had been lying under the hollow sycamore had half risen and were sitting with their knees on their hands. All seemed highly amused. Art Trevor was standing13 ahead of his companions. Nick Apthorp, one of the seven, had been the first to speak.
“Hello kids. What’s doin’?”
“None of your business,” answered Sammy Addington.
“Does your mamas know you’re over here where the bad boys is?” shouted Job Wilkes with a laugh.
There was no answer except closer set lips. But not one of the Goosetowners rose to his feet. Hank and Connie coming up, the latter hurried to Art and whispered: “Come on.” There was a general movement forward. For[39] a moment it looked as if hostilities14 would be averted15.
But the last remark had sunk deep into young Trevor’s heart. Thrusting Connie aside he almost ran to the big tree. There, yet besmeared with Carrots Compton’s tobacco quid, hung the stolen poster. Connie rushed after the white-faced leader but Art was not to be stopped. Tearing the poster loose he whirled on the surprised Goosetowners.
“The fellow that did that’s a coward!” shouted Art, his lips trembling.
“I done it,” shouted Carrots Compton. “What—”
Before he could add more Art had slapped the poster, quid and all, against Carrots’ face. The next instant Carrots was in Hank Milleson’s arms and Alex Conyers had a close grip on Art.
“Let ’em go, let ’em loose!” shouted a dozen voices.
The struggling four were at once lost in a jam of all the others, each eager to get close to the would-be combatants. In the first clash, while the Goosetowners and Elm Streeters resembled a mass of football players after a tackle, a cry sounded that each boy recognized.[40] There was a sudden loosening of the tangle16 and Nick Apthorp, with another cry, threw his hands to his head. As he drew them back a new howl went up. His fingers were covered with blood, which was trickling17 from a cut on his forehead.
Hostilities ceased. Even Carrots and Art were released, while Hank and Connie turned toward the wounded boy. It wasn’t a stab but a bad break of the skin. Connie even volunteered the use of his handkerchief as a bandage—there was probably not one in the enemy’s ranks. But, before it could be applied19, and one of Nick’s pals20 had already rushed down the river bank to fill the beer can with water, there was a new commotion21.
“There he goes! That’s the guy.”
Seventeen pairs of eyes made out Sammy Addington scurrying22 like a colt toward the railroad. Sammy had been avenged23. He had “got his man.” Nick Apthorp sprang forward but a new trickle24 of warm blood stopped him and there arose new wails25 about being stabbed.
[41]
“I’ll kill him,” moaned Nick sinking to his knees while Hank bound up his wound.
“Shut up, you boob,” exclaimed Hank. “It’s only a scratch.”
“He stabbed me,” wailed Nick.
The clashing bodies had moved apart but no truce27 had been declared. No one made an attempt to pursue Sammy, who was now on the railroad bridge and still in motion. Connie yet had hopes of preventing another clash and was giving his attention to his captain. Trevor was hurling28 defiance at Carrots who was pouring forth29 a volley of profanity.
“That shows ’em up,” broke in Job Wilkes rushing to Carrots’ side. “Look out! They all got knives.”
“It’s a lie!” shouted Alex Conyers whirling toward Wilkes. “We don’t want trouble, but if you got to have it you don’t need to holler.”
But Wilkes’ mind was on Art.
“Go get him, Carrots,” he yelled, pushing Compton forward.
Spurred on, Compton made a new rush for[42] Trevor. But something intervened. It was knotty31 little Connie’s fist. Carrots always insisted it wasn’t fair, that he wasn’t fighting Connie. Just the same, as Carrots lunged past Connie, the latter caught him on the jaw32 so cleverly that Carrots dropped. Like a cat Job Wilkes was on Connie’s back. In a flash the fight was on again with Nick Apthorp on the side-lines, whimpering and nursing the knob on his head, and Hank Milleson pawing his way into the center of the fray33 and yelling for fair play.
For perhaps five minutes the vicinity resounded34 with the noises that accompany boyish fights; grunts35, exploding breaths, whimpering, howls, cries, half in defiance and half in protest, and, with it all the unmistakable commotion of jarring bodies. Now and then there was the crack of a blow struck, but not often. Even the bitterest boy battle rarely reaches the point of serious bodily injury.
Then, when the confusion of cries reached its height and nearly all were yelling “leggo my hair!” or “he’s bitin’ me!” (even in the juvenile36 world an inexcusable barbarism) or “he’s chokin’ me!” the furious tempest suddenly[43] began to calm. The first drops of blood are wonderfully quieting.
One of the first to escape from the wriggling37 mass was Wart38 Ware39. A sleeve of his shirt was gone, his hat was missing and his nose was bleeding freely. His fighting spirit was gone but he continued to struggle in Matt Branson’s neck-hold. At last, his mouth filled with blood, he yelled “Enough!”
Phil Abercrombie and Lew Ashwood were in no better condition. Buck40 Bluett and Mart Clare, both outclassing their opponents, had forced these “middle-weight” aviators41 into each other’s arms and were vigorously pounding their heads together. Phil was yet feebly defiant, but Lew had reached the point where he only groaned42 with each new knock.
With the first let-up in hair-pulling and punching noses a quartette of Elm Streeters made a feeble dash toward the river bank, where not less than twenty miniature aeroplanes had been deposited on the first sign of trouble. Colly Craighead, Paul Corbett, Duke Easton and Sandy Sheldon thought of these treasures apparently at the same time. Boys who won’t run away from a scrap44 have a way[44] of suddenly remembering duties that are instantly imperative45.
But Joe Andrews, Tom Bates and Nick Apthorp (who had now rejoined the combatants) were in close pursuit.
“Head ’em off!” yelled Nick.
Grabbing a tree limb about two feet long he hurled46 it toward the fugitives47. It struck Colly Craighead on the arm. Before the exhausted48 boy could recover himself he had stumbled and fallen on the pile of aeroplanes.
The three Goosetowners were on him in an instant, trampling49 on the delicate models and striking right and left with broken silk-covered frames. Colly’s friends, in a last hopeless effort, frenzied50 with the sickening crack of their wrecked51 prides, made an attempt to rally. But it was useless.
Craighead rolled out of the wreckage52 and, bewildered with pain, tumbled over the river bank onto a bed of gravel53. His three companions sprang after him. There was a momentary54 attempt to renew the battle by throwing gravel and such rocks as they could find. But each knew he was licked. Their assailants withdrew in contempt and rejoined the struggle yet in progress between the older boys.
[45]
Job Wilkes had apparently taken good advantage of his sneaking55 attack on Alex Conyers. When Hank Milleson had managed to pull the others off the prostrate56 pair, Wilkes was on Connie’s back with his hands around the under boy’s throat. Carrots Compton was nursing his jaw and temporarily out of the mix-up. Art Trevor had plunged57 to Connie’s aid.
“None o’ that!” roared Hank. “It’s one to one here. You wanted trouble an’ you got it.”
Without a pause Art swerved58 his attack to Hank. In an instant the two leaders were in each other’s arms and in another moment Art was on his back looking up into Hank’s half-smiling face. But the overconfident Hank held his opponent too lightly. Art had a smattering of wrestling knowledge. His face distorted with anger, he shut his eyes for a moment as if in surrender. As Hank gave him a laughing smack59 on the cheek the under boy whirled himself over with a snake-like wriggle60 and then shoved himself with a second lightning-like motion to his hands and knees.
The astonished Hank instantly recognized his danger from a wrestling standpoint, and[46] threw himself heavily on Art’s back in an effort to crush him flat again. But the movement was what the “milksop” anticipated. Hank was quick enough with his body but he failed to duck his head. Art’s strong arms and legs met the crushing attack and then in a flash his right arm flew up and clamped Hank’s head in a vice61.
There was a first sharp downward jerk of Trevor’s arm and Hank’s head slipped forward over the under boy’s shoulder. Another yank and Hank’s neck bones creaked. There was a groan43 from the boy on top as his heavy body bowed itself upward to lessen62 the pain and then, Art’s muscles quivering and his mouth open, his arm locked itself completely around Hank’s neck. With the same motion Art’s body bounded upward and the panting, struggling Hank shot into the air. As the flying body struck the ground with a crash, Art was up and on his opponent like a cat.
Half stunned63, Hank made an effort to clasp Art’s body, but Trevor was too quick for him. Throwing himself on Milleson’s chest with crushing force, the Elm Street boy pinned his opponent to the ground and then “roughed” his head against Hank’s nose.
[47]
“That’s enough,” yelled a voice in Art’s ear. “Let him up. You win.”
It was Connie. His own battle had been soon over, although he had not resorted to the professional tricks his chum had used. Three or four sound blows on Job’s face and neck had forced an abject64 surrender. Carrots Compton and Connie had not joined issues, each pausing to watch the big fight.
Carrots Compton, carried away by the sight of the clever contest, stood by in open admiration66. As Trevor rose to his feet, his shirt torn, rents in each knee of his trousers, his hair wet with perspiration67, his muscles yet trembling and his lips quivering with unsatisfied anger, he caught sight of his avowed68 enemy.
“Now you red-headed bluff,” shouted Art, “I’m ready for you. There’s the river you’re goin’ to make me jump in! You big loafer and bum,” he added, his eyes feverish69 with anger. “I’ll give you a minute to start tryin’ or I’ll throw you in.”
There was no escape for Carrots. As Hank scrambled70 onto his feet a dozen begrimed,[48] blood-spotted and clothing-torn boys quickly formed a circle.
“That’s the stuff,” shouted Nick Apthorp, forgetting his own bandaged head. “Give ’em room. Let ’em scrap it out. A bottle o’ beer on little Artie,” he added. But there were no takers of his wager71. Carrots had shot forward with head down. But he landed in Hank Milleson’s arms.
“Cheese it, kids,” shouted Hank as he whirled Carrots to his feet. “The marshal’s comin’.”
One glance toward the railroad bridge revealed the well-known blue uniform of Marshal Chris Walter. And it was advancing at the old man’s best pace. Close behind waddled72 Sammy Addington. By the time Old Chris reached the big sycamore the only Goosetowners or Elm Streeters to be seen were those just disappearing above the river dam.
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1
defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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2
retaliation
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| n.报复，反击 | |
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pompously
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| adv.傲慢地，盛大壮观地；大模大样 | |
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4
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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6
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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7
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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8
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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placate
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| v.抚慰，平息(愤怒) | |
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10
bum
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| n.臀部；流浪汉，乞丐；vt.乞求，乞讨 | |
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bums
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| n. 游荡者，流浪汉，懒鬼，闹饮，屁股 adj. 没有价值的，不灵光的，不合理的 vt. 令人失望，乞讨 vi. 混日子，以乞讨为生 | |
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12
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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13
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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14
hostilities
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| n.战争；敌意(hostility的复数)；敌对状态；战事 | |
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15
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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16
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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17
trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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18
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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pals
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| n.朋友( pal的名词复数 )；老兄；小子；（对男子的不友好的称呼）家伙 | |
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21
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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22
scurrying
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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23
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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24
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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25
wails
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| 痛哭，哭声( wail的名词复数 ) | |
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26
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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28
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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29
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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30
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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31
knotty
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| adj.有结的，多节的，多瘤的，棘手的 | |
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32
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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33
fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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34
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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35
grunts
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说； 石鲈 | |
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36
juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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37
wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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38
wart
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| n.疣，肉赘；瑕疵 | |
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39
ware
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| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
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40
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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41
aviators
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| 飞机驾驶员，飞行员( aviator的名词复数 ) | |
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42
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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43
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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44
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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45
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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46
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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47
fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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48
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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49
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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50
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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51
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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52
wreckage
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| n.（失事飞机等的）残骸，破坏，毁坏 | |
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53
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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54
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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55
sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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56
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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57
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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58
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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60
wriggle
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| v./n.蠕动，扭动；蜿蜒 | |
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61
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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62
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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63
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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64
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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65
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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66
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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67
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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68
avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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69
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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70
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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71
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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72
waddled
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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