The Submarine Boys' Trial Trip Part 8

"Keep your eyes away from them, and don't say anything, then," whispered Jack. "Don't say or do anything that can possibly spoil the morning by putting us in the wrong."

But Don Melville, wrathful over the morning's happenings, and keenly disappointed over the knowledge that he could not hope to command the "Pollard," was not disposed to let the submarine boys go unchallenged.

On came Jack, Hal and Eph, walking abreast, yet ready to break and pa.s.s in silence.

"Dewey, Sampson & Schley!" jeered Don Melville, in a low tone, yet loud enough to be heard by Jack's party.

Yet the boys paid no heed, but would have pa.s.sed in silence, had not Don added, insultingly:

"The three little muckers!"

That was too much for Eph. He couldn't help turning, the flush mounting to his cheeks, to retort:

"Speak for yourself!"

Don took a step forward. Eph, unable to ignore the implied challenge, wheeled about.

"Don't bother with the fellow, Eph," muttered Jack, gripping his bellicose chum by the arm.

"'Fellow'?" cried Don, hotly. "Do you mean that for me?"

"Well," demanded Jack, dryly, "you're not a girl, are you?"

At that Don Melville lost his temper hopelessly. Burning at a white heat, he hissed:

"I'll show you whether I am, or not, you cur!"

That word "cur" went far toward shattering Jack Benson's good resolutions.

Letting go of Eph's arm he turned to glare at his tormentor.

"You need a lesson, mucker," added Don, hotly.

"Don't soil your hands on the fellow, Don," cried his father, sharply.

"I must, sir, after he has insulted me," cried Don, in a rage. "I must kick him, anyway."

"Nonsense, Don! No brawling with people of this cla.s.s," commanded his father, sternly.

The elder Melville reached out to restrain his son, but that seemed only to render the young man more furious. He rushed at Jack, aiming a kick.

"Don't you dare try that!" warned young Benson, his eyes flashing.

But Don, despite both warnings, did swing his foot. Jack dodged the impact, then darted in at the side, landing a blow on young Melville's chest that sent him staggering back.

"Strike _me_, will you?" flashed Don, throwing himself on guard.

George Melville, aghast at Jack's presumption in attacking his son, now stepped back, satisfied that Don must avenge the insult.

A dozen boys, talking over baseball nearly a block away, saw the start of this encounter.

"Fight! fight!" they yelled, gleefully, and raced down the street.

The cries readied the private office in the boatyard. Suspecting, partly, what might be up, Jacob Farnum s.n.a.t.c.hed his hat, running out.

David Pollard followed.

"You young puppy!" almost screamed. "I'll teach you a lesson that you need."

"I'm usually particular about where I get my training," retorted Jack Benson, insulted and stung past his power to endure.

Yet Captain Jack did not attempt to follow up that first blow. Throwing himself into the att.i.tude of defense, he waited.

Don Melville did not keep him long waiting, but rushed at the shorter youth, intent on sending him to earth.

"Hit him like a gentleman, Don!" called his father.

Whatever way that might be, Don Melville struck out, his blood at the white heat of rage. With such force did he aim the blow that, when nimble Captain Jack failed to be in the way to stop it, Don pitched forward, falling to his knees.

"Hooray!" yelled some of the on looking boys, derisively.

Jack halted before his foe, smiling at him quietly.

"Know any more stunning tricks like that one?" Benson inquired.

"I'll show you!" panted Don, leaping up. As he did so, he caught sight of the smiling faces of Messrs. Farnum and Pollard, strolling up from the boatyard gateway.

As he faced the smiling submarine boy, young Melville was quick to realize that he must cool down if he did not want to become a laughing stock for the street crowd that was swiftly forming. Half a dozen workmen employed in the yard had climbed up onto the fence.

"Mind you," said Jack, coolly, "I don't want to hurt you. You started this, Melville."

The sheer coolness of this speech once more carried Don Melville out of the bounds of reason. On the "gym" floor Don had studied the art of boxing well, but he had not learned all he needed to know about coolness.

"You young hound!" he snapped.

"You said something like that before," Jack laughed. "Is that all you can do? I feel as though I were wasting my time."

"Do you?" mocked Don. "Take that, then!"

This time he leaped forward, feinting with his left hand. But Jack was not to be caught like that. Instead, he parried against the real blow delivered with Don's right fist. The force of the parry threw Don to his left. Just at that instant Benson pa.s.sed behind his opponent, landing a stinging blow on the other's neck. Down flat to the ground went the Melville heir, hitting his nose roughly and starting the blood.

"Hooray!" yelled a gleeful boy in the throng. "Say, ain't he fine at jiu-jitsu, though?"

A yell of great joy went up from some of the boys, who are always delighted at seeing the larger fellow thrashed, especially when he is the one who has started the trouble.

"Don't you think you'd better wait and cool down?" inquired Jack, dryly.

"You're only making a show of yourself."

That taunt stung Don into rising and squaring off, while his father looked unutterably disgusted and angry over the ridiculous turn affairs had taken.