ing a cry of rage, he sprang forward to fell the boy
with the club.

CHAPTER V

FOOTBALL UNIFORMS IN SIGHT

Had Dick turned to run Ab. Dexter would have darted after him. The bully
possessed much longer legs and prided himself on his speed.

To Dexter's amazement, however, Dick did not flinch or turn.

Perhaps there was not time enough. Again, perhaps young Prescott saw two
other figures moving in the darkness.

At all events, the man suddenly felt the stick fly from his hand. Then,
before he could regain his self-possession, two boyish figures crouched
swiftly one on each side of him.

Dexter felt his knees gripped. In the same instant two boys rose
suddenly, holding on, and the bully toppled over backward.

"Never hit a man when he's down," quoth the dry voice of Greg Holmes.
"But, if he isn't even any sort of a man, it doesn't matter!"

Thump! Greg brought his not very big fist down on Dexter's nose. It was
an ugly blow, delivered before the bully could recover from his own
amazement.

Dave Darrin, the other boy, did not even wait to speak. He began to rain
down blows on the prostrate enemy.

"Here, stop that, Davey!" urged Dick, darting forward. "Don't hit the
cur any more."

"But he was going to club you," argued Dave, hitting two more blows.

"Stop this, boys! Let up! I'll clear out," begged Ab. Dexter.

Dick, finding that neither of his chums was much inclined to stop the
merited punishment, darted in and forcibly dragged Darrin off Dexter's
prostrate form.

"Let me have him, for a minute or two yet," coaxed Greg Holmes. "You
know, Dick, he was going to club you."

"I know it," rejoined young Prescott doggedly. "He did thrash me twice,
and it hurt. I don't believe in soiling our hands on anything like this
fellow, when it can be helped. Besides, we're too many."

Though Dave and Greg had now both been pulled off their prey, they
hovered over Dexter, who seemed afraid to rise for fear it would lead to
a renewed onslaught.

"Stand back, fellows," coaxed Dick, pushing them gently. "Dexter, I told
you you'd be a booby in any fight where you couldn't have it all your
own way. I was right about it. Get up, now--and make your fly-away while
I'm still able to hold these two bulldogs in leash. Hustle now!"

Dick emphasized his advice with a kick, but it was not a vicious one.
Ab. Dexter looked up in wonder. Then he rose, crouchingly, next made a
sprinter's start and bolted.

"Humph! We ca