The Chums of Scranton High Part 4

"h.e.l.lo! so you're there, are you, Hugh Morgan?" he called out, with a ring of savage delight in his heavy voice. "Glad you've dropped in just in time to see me give a good friend of yours a little lesson in politeness. Here's Owen saying how he thinks it good taste to step in between a fellow and his best girl. I'm meaning to knock a different notion into his silly head. Sometimes you have to pound things into some people, you understand."

"I'd advise you to try nothing of the sort, Nick," said Hugh, steadily.

At that the other laughed aloud.

"Why, you don't mean to tell me you'd stick in your little oar, Hugh, and try to teach me a few tricks, do you? I could put you on your back with one hand behind me. Fellers that are tied to their mother's ap.r.o.n strings ain't apt to know a heap about how to take care of themselves in a stand-up fight. Mebbe now you're meaning all of you to pick on me? Well, I've got a few nervy pals hangin' around who'd like nothing better than to have you try that game."

Owen had not attempted to escape while Nick's attention was thus taken up with the newcomers, though possibly he might have been forgiven had he done so, considering all the conditions. But evidently Owen had plenty of nerve, even though he might be lacking in brawn equal to the bully's larger figure.

Nick now turned again upon the other. His gestures became even more offensive, as though despite Hugh's grave warning, he meant to attack Owen, come what might, and give him the drubbing which according to his, Nick's light, was long overdue.

Suddenly, without the least warning, his fist shot out. Owen apparently was not expecting such a cowardly blow, and hence must have been taken unawares. The consequence was that the blow landed on the side of his head when he tried instinctively to duck. It sounded horribly suggestive, and made Hugh's blood fairly boil as anger swept over him in a wild wave.

Owen staggered and fell. Gamely, he attempted to scramble to his knees, and before Nick could prevent him had even done this, trying to strike back in return. The boy was furious because of having been dealt such a foul blow; he would have leaped at the giant just then if the necessity arose.

Nick was in his element. Scenes like this were so frequent in his life that he fairly delighted in them, just as another boy less pugilistic in his nature might glory in taking snap-shot pictures, catching fish, or camping in the woods. Fighting and Nick Lang were synonymous terms, it might almost be said.

Sweeping the threatening hand of Owen aside almost contemptuously, Nick suddenly sent in another swift jolt, such as he knew so well how to deliver, having taken a few lessons from some reformed prize fighter.

Poor Owen went down again in a pitiful heap. He did not have the slightest chance against such a master in the art of delivering heavy blows that could not be parried. As one of the boys who looked on with staring eyes, too much afraid of the bully to interfere, was heard to say, it was "like taking candy from the baby for Nick to strike that boy, unacquainted with the art of self-defense."

This time the boy was really unable to do more than struggle to his knees. There he knelt trying to recover his breath, and not yet wholly conquered, though unable to make any further threatening gestures toward his cruel oppressor.

Hugh had already started to quietly remove both his overcoat and the under one. These he handed over to Thad for safe-keeping. Nick saw his actions with keen delight. Apparently, the hope he had entertained of forcing Hugh Morgan into meeting him in a clean-cut issue, to see which would prove the better man, was about to be realized.

"It's just got to be done, I see," Hugh was saying, as he faced the leering victor in the unequal affair just concluded. "You big coward, I'm going to teach you that there's danger in picking on a boy smaller than yourself. In other words, you're due for a thrashing you'll never forget. Now look out for yourself!"

CHAPTER VI

MAKING A GOOD JOB OF IT

A fight between two boys is not a very pleasant subject with which to deal. In this particular circ.u.mstance there were, however, mitigating conditions that would almost make it a pleasure to describe the battle.

Hugh was standing up for the rights of the weak, and had only plunged into the scrimmage when he saw that Nick had treated Owen in a most cruel manner.

Once he started in and he meant business. There could be no half-way measures in handling so crafty and unprincipled a customer as the town bully. He must be carried off his feet with the impetuosity of the attack; and while still bewildered thoroughly punished. As Hugh had well said he needed a lasting lesson. Perhaps after this Nick would think twice before attacking a weaker boy, who might have a friend capable and willing to take up cudgels in his behalf.

Nick flourished those big fists of his, and commenced to dance tauntingly around as though meaning to enlist the admiration of his cronies, who had never yet seen him come out of a battle second-best, and therefore deemed him invincible.

Hugh leaped at him with fury glowing in his eyes. Some powerful fever seemed to have utterly overwhelmed the boy. Thad and those others stared as though they could not believe their vision. Was this impetuous boy who struck down Nick's guard as though nothing could restrain his attack, the same Hugh Morgan who on numerous occasions had been known to arbitrate a dispute, and declare that it was not worth getting into a temper over? A miracle seemed to have happened. The sight of Nick's brutal treatment of Owen Dugdale must have transformed Hugh into a merciless avenger. In that supreme moment he had const.i.tuted himself the champion of all those lads in Scranton who, in times past, had suffered cruel wrongs at the hands of the sneering bully.

There was a furious exchange of blows. Nick knew how to fight, but on this occasion something seemed to go wrong with his customary programme. Why, when he hit out his hardest, and expected to see his antagonist reeling back before the blow, to his consternation, it was cleverly warded off, and the next instant something crashed against his own face that made a myriad of luminous stars, never indexed in the galaxy of the heavens, flash before his eyes.

Then Nick was seen to stagger, and fall down. That was perhaps the first time he had ever taken a dose of his own medicine. How often had he stood jeeringly over some wretched fellow whom he had sent to gra.s.s, counting him out with monotonous chant, in which the joy of brutal victory was prominent?

"Get up and try it again!" said a stern voice. "That is only a taste of what is due you! I hope you have not had enough yet, you cowardly brute!"

Leon Disney and those two other cronies of Nick's were holding their breath with dismay. They had never expected to see the time when any one could knock their boastful leader out in this easy fashion. What previous opinions they had entertained concerning Hugh Morgan's prowess must now be reversed.

Stung by this taunt, Nick immediately scrambled to his feet. He seemed a bit what he himself would have termed "groggy," being familiar with the slang of the prize ring, but in spite of this he leaped wildly at his enemy.

Thad Stevens feared for his chum when he saw the fury of this attack; but he need not have worried. Hugh was able to look out for himself.

Although those boys had never known him to take part in a single encounter, Hugh had apparently made a study of the art of self-defense.

There can be no harm in knowing _how_ to fight, if one is resolved never to indulge in the game save as a very last resort. And whatever reason it was by which Hugh had bound himself up to the present, apparently the time had arrived when he could break his promise with honor.

There was another brief struggle, exceedingly brief, to tell the truth.

Then, for the second time, Nick, the boss of all juvenile Scranton up to this amazing hour, was thrown heavily to the ground, on which he landed with a terrible crash.

"That's two for you!" said Hugh, in a hissing voice, as though he might be speaking between his set teeth. "Now, if you're able get up again, and give me a chance to finish my job, of which I'm already sick."

Nick was not yet defeated, though it took him longer to rise this time than before. He was wary, too, and plainly disliked the idea of coming in contact with those st.u.r.dy arms of Hugh Morgan. Seeing that Nick did not mean to attack him, but had commenced to say harsh things in the endeavor to force his rival to a.s.sume the aggressive, in hopes that the advantage would fall to his share, Hugh lost no time in obliging him.

Vain were Nick's most desperate efforts to ward off the inevitable.

Hugh had decided to finish the bout with this third round, and the way he pummeled staggering Nick almost dazed Leon Disney and those other fellows, staring as though in the throes of a nightmare.

When for the third time clumsy Nick went down heavily before the attack of the aroused Hugh, he refused to make the least effort to get on his feet. Evidently Nick was a wise boy in one sense; he knew when he had had enough of an unpleasant thing.

"Are you through?" demanded Hugh, sternly. "If you say the word I'll have some of your crowd stand you up on your pegs again, so I may knock you down. While I'm at it I want to make it a thorough job. Have you had all you want for tonight?"

In deadly fear lest Hugh be tempted to put his threat into execution, Nick managed to swallow his pride, and mumble that he guessed he must be out of condition just then, a fact so evident that Thad had to laugh aloud.

"All right, then," said Hugh, stepping back, for he had been standing over the fallen boy in a threatening att.i.tude, like a Roman gladiator who had thrown his rival, and was waiting to see what signal the emperor gave so as to decide the vanquished man's fate.

He took one look around at Leon and those two other fellows. They quailed before his fierce glance.

"If any of the rest of you feel like having a try with me while I'm in the humor, now's your chance! Don't all speak at once, please," said Hugh, grimly.

When they saw him take a step in their direction, they shrank back.

Although not averse to having a little entertainment of the sort at times, none of them seemed to particularly fancy being made a scapegoat.

"We're satisfied, Hugh," said Leon, hurriedly. "Nick got trimmed neat and good. It's been coming to him for a long time, I guess."

There is a saying to the effect that "rats desert a sinking ship"; and when Nick's hour for defeat arrived, even these hitherto admiring cronies threatened to turn their backs on him.

Aroused by this taunt, he scrambled to his feet. Nick was a sight indeed with his face b.l.o.o.d.y, and one of his eyes giving evidence of going into mourning. He snarled something at Leon with a degree of his one-time ferocity, and the other turned back to a.s.sist him off the field. Nick stopped to look back. He made no threat, but the malevolence in that stare toward Hugh told better than words would have done what bitterness was in his heart. No town bully is dethroned without his hating the object of his humiliation. Hugh had better be on his guard, for every one knew that Nick Lang would never rest until he had at least tried to even up the score.

Hugh calmly put on his garments again. Thad and the others were voicing their admiration for his recent gallant deed, but somehow their praise seemed to grate on the boy's nerves.

"Please don't keep on saying those things, fellows," he begged them, presently. "I know you mean it in kindness, but I'd rather try and forget this unpleasant business. I had to break a promise tonight, and it hurts ten times worse than any of the few cracks Nick got in at me.

But then my mother always told me she would not for worlds have me stand by and see a bully injure one weaker than himself. I just had to do it, that's all there is to it. And, Owen, old chap, I'm mighty glad I happened to be around to give you a helping hand."

Owen Dugdale had watched all this exciting happening with varied emotions. Each time his detested oppressor had gone crashing to the earth, he seemed to feel his own injuries less and less. When the fight was over, and Nick had received such a decided thrashing, Owen felt like dancing around. He was a boy, every inch of him, with all a boy's feelings; and Nick had humiliated him dreadfully, as well as taken a mean advantage over him on account of his superior strength.

"I'm a thousand times obliged to you, Hugh!" cried the grateful Owen, wringing the other's hand vigorously; "of course this winds up my evening's pleasure, and I was enjoying myself more than any time in my whole life."

"Why should it put a stop to your fun?" demanded Hugh. "What if you have got a b.l.o.o.d.y nose, and a lump on your forehead. See here how my knuckles are badly skinned, will you; and I fancy I've something of a scratch on my right cheek, where he got to me. We'll wash up back of the farmhouse, you and I, Owen. Of course all the folks will have to know what's happened; but then we needn't be ashamed of the part we took in the little circus."

"Yes, be a sport, Owen," said Thad, encouragingly. "There isn't a single girl at the hop but who will sing out 'good!' when they hear that Nick Lang met his match tonight. And say, Owen, Peggy Noland will likely clap her hands with joy when she learns of what's happened, and then be extra nice when she sees how that brute marked you. Sympathy is akin to love you know, they say, Owen."