"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.
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