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 butt-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 assailant 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 butt-end of the
whip.
Pages:
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238