"It's worth the time it has cost you," Dick urged.
"Rush him fellows!" bawled Toby Ross. "Don't let him escape!"
Indeed, there was no time or chance for getting away. Dick Prescott
was rushed, caught and pinned.
"What'll we do with him?" rose the chorus.
"To the fountain! Duck him!"
With a cheer the boys started, carrying Dick along on the shoulders
of a few tightly-wedged boys.
Dick's chums made no effort to rescue him. Indeed, perhaps they
felt that he deserved what was right ahead of him. But they ran
along in the press of boisterous lads.
Len Spencer, grinning hard, rushed along at the head of the juvenile
mob.
"Boys, you'd better reconsider!" shouted the young reporter.
"Don't write yourselves down as louts. The man on the clubhouse
steps, on account of just what he said, proved himself one of
the sages of the ages. Prescott, in telling you just what he
said, has performed a public service, if only you fellows were
bright enough to comprehend."
"Get out of our way, Spencer!" ordered Spoff Henderson. "As sure
as guns we're going to duck Dick Prescott in the public fountain."
"If you won't listen to reason, then," roared Len, using his long
legs to put him well in advance of the juvenile mob, "then I'll
use enchantment to spoil your foolish work.
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