n got the worst of it (as
seemed inevitable against three boys), I would interfere at the critical
moment.

"He's coming ashore to whip us!" exclaimed the tallest lad, almost
dropping to the ground with laughter. "I hope he will; I've been taking
sparring lessons of Professor Sullivan for a year, and I would like the
fun of knocking him out of time. I can do it in three rounds, and I want
you boys to stand back and leave him to me. I'll paralyze him!"

The others were reluctant, each claiming the happiness of demolishing the
countryman; but the tallest, who was called Rutherford, at last secured
their pledge that they would keep their hands off and allow him to have
all the fun to himself.

"I'll try the cross-counter on him, the upper cut, and then I'll land a
left-hander on his jug'lar that'll knock him stiff. Oh, how I ache to get
him within reach!"

CHAPTER II

THE COLLISION

Meanwhile Ben Mayberry was vigorously working the log in toward shore. It
moved slowly, but the current was sluggish, the space brief, and he was
certain to land in a few minutes.

One of the stones struck Ben on the shoulder. It must have angered him,
for instead of trying to dodge the rest, he used his pushing-pole with
more energy than before and paid no heed to the missiles, several of
which were stopped by his body.

It was plain that the valorous little fellow meant to attack the three
city lads, who were pestering him not only with stones, but with taunts
that were far more exasperating.

"Wonder who blacked his shoes?"

"Ain't that hat a beauty? He can comb his hair without taking it off."

"That one suspender must have cost him a good deal."

"By gracious, he's going to chew us up," laughed the tallest, as the log
approached land; "stand back, boys, you promised him to me, and I don't
want either of you to say you helped me to knock him out in the third
round."

The next minute the log was so close that the nimble-footed Ben leaped
ashore and strode straight for the valiant Rutherford, who immediately
threw himself in "position." His attitude was certainly artistic, with
his left foot thrown forward, his right fist clinched and held across his
breast, and his left extended ready to be shot forward into the first
opening that his enemy presented.

But it is one thing to assume the proper pugilistic attitude; it is
altogether another to act the part of a trained pugilist.

"Come on, Country!" called out the ex