Part 22 (1/2)

A boy of fifteen a.s.sailing a full-grown ruffian?

Why not? Age hardly counts in such a matter; and then it is not every boy of even his growth that could have brought muscles like those of Dab Kinzer to the swing he gave that four-foot length of seasoned ironwood.

Annie saw him coming; but her a.s.sailant did not until it was too late for him to do any thing but turn, and receive that first hit in front instead of behind. It would have knocked over almost anybody; and the tramp measured his length on the ground, while Dabney plied the rod on him with all the energy he was master of.

”Oh, don't, Dabney, don't!” pleaded Annie: ”you'll kill him!”

”I wouldn't want to do that,” said Dab, as he suspended his pounding; but he added, to the tramp,--

”Now you'd better get up and run for it If you're caught around here again, it'll be the worse for you.”

The vagabond staggered to his feet, and he looked savagely enough at Dab; but the latter looked so very ready to put in another hit with that terrible cudgel, and the whole situation was so unpleasantly suggestive of further difficulty, that the youngster's advice was taken without a word. That is, if a shambling kind of double limp can be described as a ”run for it.”

”Here it is: I've found my pocket-book,” said Annie, as her enemy made the best of his way off.

”He did not hurt you?”

”No: he only scared me, except that I suppose my arm will be black-and-blue where he caught hold of it. Thank you ever so much, Dabney: you're a brave boy. Why, he's almost twice your size.”

”Yes; but the b.u.t.t of my rod is twice as hard as his head,” said Dabney.

”I was almost afraid to strike him with it. I might have broken his skull.”

”You didn't even break your rod.”

”No; and now I must run back for the other pieces and the tip. I dropped them in the road.”

”Please, Dabney, see me home first,” said Annie. ”I know it's foolish, and there isn't a bit of danger; but I must confess to being a good deal frightened.”

Dab Kinzer was a little the proudest boy on Long Island, as he walked along at Annie's side, in compliance with her request. He went no farther than the gate, to be sure, and then he returned for the rest of his rod: but before he got back with it, Keziah Kinzer hurried home from a call on Mrs. Foster, bringing a tremendous account of Dab's heroism; and then his own pride over what he had done was only a mere drop in the bucket, compared to that of his mother.

”Dabney is growing wonderfully,” she remarked to Samantha, ”He'll be a man before any of us know it.”

If Dab had been a man, however, or if Ham Morris or Mr. Foster had been at home, the matter would not have been permitted to drop there. That tramp ought to have been followed, arrested, and shut up where his vicious propensities would have been under wholesome restraint for a while. As it was, after hurrying on for a short distance, and making sure he was not pursued, he clambered over the fence, and sneaked into the nearest clump of bushes. From this safe covert he watched Dab Kinzer's return after the lighter pieces of his rod; and then he even dared to crouch along the fence, and see which house his young conqueror went into.

”That's where he lives, is it?” he muttered, with a scowl of the most ferocious vengeance. ”Well, they'll have some fun there before they git to bed to-night, or I'll know the reason why.”

It could not have occurred to such a man that he had been given his dinner at the door of that very house. What had the collection of his rights as a ”tramp” to do with questions of grat.i.tude and revenge?

The bushes were a good enough hiding-place for the time, and he crawled back to them with the air and manner of a man whose mind was made up to something.

Ford and Frank were absent in the city that day with Mr. Foster, who was kindly attending to some affairs of Frank's; but when the three came home, and learned what had happened, it was hard to tell which of them failed most completely in trying to express his boiling indignation.

They were all on the point of running over to the Morris house to thank Dab, but Mrs. Foster interposed.

”I don't think I would. To-morrow will do as well, and you know they're expecting Mr. and Mrs. Morris this evening.”

It was harder for the boys to give it up than for Mr. Foster, and the waiting till to-morrow looked a little dreary. They were lingering near the north fence two hours later, with a faint idea of catching Dab, even though they knew that the whole Kinzer family were down at the railway-station, waiting for Ham and Miranda.

There was a good deal of patience to be exercised by them also; for that railway-train was provokingly behind time, and there was ”waiting” to be done accordingly.