Chapter 2. The Collision

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_ 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 exultant Rutherford; "but I hope you've bid your friends farewell."

The other boys stood back and watched the singular contest. I carefully approached so as to be ready to protect Ben when it should become necessary.

The brave fellow never hesitated, but the instant he landed lightly on the shore he went straight for Rutherford, who, it was plain, was slightly surprised and disconcerted by his unscientific conduct. But the city youth kept his guard well up, and the moment Ben was within reach he struck a violent blow intended for the face.

But Ben dodged it easily, dropping his head and running with cat-like agility directly under the guard of his antagonist, who, before he could understand precisely what it meant, found himself clasped around the waist and thrown on his back with such violence that a loud grunt was forced from him, and his handsome new hat rolled rapidly down into the water.

And I am free to confess that I was delighted when I saw Ben give him several of his "best licks," which made the tall boy roar for mercy.

"Take him off, boys! he's killing me! Quick! I can't live much longer."

The others were terrified at the hurricane-like style in which the boy had turned the tables on the scientific Rutherford, but they could not stand by and see their companion massacred without raising a finger to help him.

"Pull him off!" yelled the victim, twisting his body and banging his legs in the soft earth in his vain effort to free himself from Ben, who was pegging away at him. "Pull him off! Put me on top, and I'll settle him!"

One of the boys ran forward and reached out his hand, intending to catch Ben by the shoulder and fling him to the ground; but, to my intense amazement and equally intense delight, Ben caught his arm, jerked him forward across the body of Rutherford, and belabored both of them. It was one of the neatest feats I ever saw performed, and, under the circumstances, I would have pronounced it impossible had it not been done before my own eyes.

Both the hats of the Boston youths were floating down the river, and they were so close to the water's edge that they were covered with mud. The vigor of the assault on the two was increased rather than diminished, and we spectators were cruel enough to laugh heartily over the exhibition, accompanied as it was by the frenzied yells of the two lads who were receiving the wrathful attentions of Ben Mayberry.

The third boy could not stand it. He must have thought they had come in collision with a gorilla or some sort of wild animal, for he started up the river bank, shouting "Murder!" at the top of his voice. Ben, having got through with the two under him, sprang off and allowed them to rise, standing ready to renew the fight should they show any desire to do so.

But they were too thoroughly vanquished. Their plight was laughable, and yet pitiable. They were coated with mud from head to foot, and their pretty hats, with their polka-dot bands, were gone too far down the river to be recovered.

They seemed dazed for a minute or so, but as soon as they realized they were on their feet they started off after their flying companion, never pausing to look behind them, but running as though a Bengal tiger was at their heels.

"Ben," said I, walking forward as soon as I could assume a serious expression of countenance, "do you not know it is very wrong to fight?"

"That's what I was tryin' to teach them city chaps. I guess they'll think so after this."

"You certainly did your best to convince them it isn't wise to attack you; but, Ben, what have you been doing lately?"

"My last job was whipping them," replied the urchin, with a roguish twinkle of his blue eyes; "but that was fun, and if you mean work, I hain't had anything but selling papers since last summer, but sometimes I run errands."

"Do you go to school?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you like a job?"

"Indeed I would, sir, for mother finds it hard work to get along, and sometimes there isn't anything to eat in the house. Once, when I was a little fellow, when I saw mother crying, and there was no bread, I slipped out at night and stole a loaf, but mother would not touch it when I brought it home, and made me take it back. She told me I must starve before I did wrong, and so I will. I have been trying to get a job all summer, but everybody says I am too young and small. I take all the exercise I can, so as to make me grow, and that's one reason why I pitched into them city chaps and laid 'em out."

"Well, Ben, you know where the office of the Western Union is; come around there to-morrow morning, at eight o'clock, and I will give you something to do."

"Oh, I'm very thankful to you, sir, and this will make my mother the happiest woman in Damietta."

I saw tears in the bright eyes, as Ben ran home to carry the good news to his mother. _

Read next: Chapter 3. The Office Boy

Read previous: Chapter 1. On A Log

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