Part 39 (1/2)
”It's always my business,” said the sailor, manfully, ”when I see a big brute pitching into a youngster like that. I ain't the man to stand by and see it done.”
”He wants to kill me. Don't let him,” implored Julius.
”That I won't, my lad. He'll have to kill me, too, if that's what he's after. He'll find me a tough customer, I reckon.”
”This is my boy. I shall beat him as I please,” said Marlowe, angrily.
”I am not his boy,” said Julius, fearing the sailor would credit the statement.
”Don't you be afraid, my lad. If you were his boy ten times over, he shouldn't beat you while I am by.”
Marlowe was terribly enraged. He saw his victim slipping from his grasp just as he was about to glut his vengeance upon him. He was a man of violent pa.s.sions, and they got the better of his prudence.
”Stand back!” he shouted, advancing toward the intrepid sailor, ”or I will serve you and the boy alike.”
”I'm ready,” said the other, coolly, squaring off scientifically.
Marlowe aimed a heavy blow at his head, which, had it taken effect, would have prostrated and perhaps stunned him. But it was warded off, and a counter blow returned, which took better effect. Marlowe staggered under it, but it only maddened him. Half-blinded, he rushed once more upon his opponent, but received a well-directed blow full in the chest, which stretched him at the sailor's feet. The latter forbore to take an unmanly advantage of his foe's position, but calmly waited for him to rise.
”Do you want more?” he asked, coolly.
Marlowe, had he been wise, would have desisted, but he was filled with a blind, unreasoning rage, and advanced again to the attack. But he was no match for the stout sailor. He fared this time no better than before, but again was stretched at the sailor's feet.
By this time the conflict had attracted attention. Several men came running up, among them a member of the local police.
”What's the meaning of all this?” demanded the latter.
”Ask the boy,” said the sailor.
Julius, thus appealed to, answered:
”That man wanted to kill me, but the sailor stopped him.”
”It's a lie!” growled Marlowe. ”He's my boy, and I was punis.h.i.+ng him.”
”Are you his boy?” asked the policeman, turning to Julius.
”No.”
”Where do you live?”
”In New York.”
”Do you know him?”
”Yes.”
”Who is he?”
Marlowe saw that it was getting dangerous for him, and was anxious to get away.