The Submarine Boys' Lightning Cruise Part 35

A CORNERED SUBMARINE CAPTAIN

"You--get--out!"

Quick as thought Jack Benson raised his left foot, planting it, as vigorously as his sitting position allowed, against the ribs of Fred Radwin.

That worthy, one foot on the sill, and bent in the act of entering fell back, going in a heap to the sidewalk.

Benson fairly hurled himself through the open door in his need of reaching the sidewalk in time.

He stood, now waiting for a second or so.

Then Fred Radwin jumped up, prepared to grapple with this young foeman.

But Jack was ready for that. He had ready a handy sailor jab--a short-arm blow with the fist that sent Radwin once more to the sidewalk.

Then, as scientific boxing rules were not called for in an encounter of this kind, Jack followed up his advantages with two severe kicks.

Down from the seat leaped the driver, heavy whip in hand.

"Oh, you're in this, are you?" panted Jack, seeing that the driver was headed straight for him.

Down low ducked the submarine boy; then came up straight at close quarters. Benson's sudden grapple deprived the driver of a chance to use the b.u.t.t of his whip in the manner the fellow had intended.

Yet the driver was a powerful fellow, his strength making him about a match for the greater agility of the bronzed young skipper.

Jack managed to land a blow or two against his big a.s.sailant, though without doing much harm.

Yet the submarine boy was undismayed and confident, until, out of the corner of one eye, he saw Radwin rising and advancing cautiously to close in.

Young Benson's opportunity came at just that instant. Smack! He landed his right fist in the driver's face, almost dazing him. With the left fist Jack struck himself free.

But Radwin was just upon him as the boy turned.

"No, you don't!" mocked Captain Jack, ducking down, kangaroo-fashion.

"Day-day!"

That low crouch and the following spring had carried the submarine boy just under Fred Radwin's outstretched right arm.

And now, Jack Benson, being past both of his a.s.sailants, took refuge in discreet flight, in fact, he ran down the street with about every pound of human steam turned on.

"Come on!" snarled Radwin, setting the sprinting pace. "We've got to catch that rascally boy, and mighty quick, too!"

This block or two of the street appeared to be deserted. There was no telling, however, how soon the submarine boy might run into two or three real men who would take his side in any scrimmage that was due.

Though Radwin had the first start after Jack, and was running well, the driver, a long-legged fellow with splendid "wind" soon pa.s.sed his leader.

Jack realized that he was in danger of being caught, and tried to put on a greater burst of speed. Yet the driver came closer and closer.

Whizz-zz!

The driver had aimed his heavy whip, lance-fashion, and b.u.t.t-end first, and launched it after the fugitive.

Had not Jack turned the instant before, to glance backward, the whip would have struck him in the back of the head. But Benson saw it coming, and threw himself forward, his head went down.

The whip, therefore, flew just over his head, striking the sidewalk ahead of him.

At that moment Jack Benson tripped. He did not mean to do it. He simply fell and landed on his knees, his head low.

On came the sprinting driver. It was too late to stop or turn. Over Jack Benson plunged the fellow, then landed in a heap on the sidewalk.

Jack was up like a flash. He heard a yell from the driver, but Benson's gaze was upon the whip.

At a bound the submarine boy possessed himself of this weapon. He got it, just in time, too, to wheel and face Fred Radwin, threatening that fellow with the heavy b.u.t.t-end of the driver's recent weapon.

"Get up behind the boy, you fool!" hissed Radwin.

"Sure, I can't," moaned the fellow, rubbing himself, real anguish sounding in his voice. "My neck's broke!"

"Come on yourself, Radwin!" mocked Jack, backing against the wall of a house so that he could face either a.s.sailant at need.

"Drop that whip, and I will!" hissed Fred Radwin, stealthily manoeuvering about the boy, yet held back by a wholesome awe of that b.u.t.t-end of the whip.

"No; I like this whip too well," chuckled young Benson. "You can't have it unless you take it from me. Want to try?"

"Come on, and get up, you dolt!" growled Radwin to the driver. "Do you think we have all night to settle with this boy?"

"I can't get up, I tell you. I'm no good," moaned the driver. "I don't know what I did to myself when I went down so hard."

"Hurry up!" insisted Radwin. "A crowd may come along at any moment."

"Let 'em," moaned the driver. "I can't stop it. I'll apologize."

At that very moment there came the sound of a shout further down the street. Other voices answered.

"There, you dolt!" cried Radwin, angrily. "Now, you've wasted our last chance. Here comes a mob!"

Backing off, Radwin grabbed up his useless comrade, forcing the driver to his feet.

Seeing his enemy so occupied, Jack Benson edged off, holding the whip so that he could use it.

From down the street came the sound of flying feet. Then, just as suddenly the speed lessened.

"I'll wait until I get help, and I'll grab this pair," muttered Captain Jack. "The police chief will be delighted at having a good, close look at Fred Radwin!"

At that moment loud yells and coa.r.s.e cries broke from the eight or ten young men down the street. Then fist-blows sounded.

"Mine's a Chinaman's luck," grunted Jack Benson, disgustedly. "Only a gang of drunken hoodlums down there. They'd stand in with anything that is against the police. No use depending on such human cattle."