"Pick 'em up, d.i.c.k! we're just in time."

A boy somewhat larger than the rest, a good half-head taller than Dabney, but with a somewhat pasty and unhealthy complexion, had selected Ford Foster, as the shortest of the new arrivals, and demanded,--

"What are you meddling for?" just as he aimed a clumsy blow at his head.

That blow did not hit Ford; but a shorter young ruffian had also picked him out, perhaps for the same reason, and the hit he aimed reached its mark, for Ford had no extra pair of arms behind to box with. Frank Harley seemed, just then, to be remarkably busy with the heap of boys on the ground.

"Spat!"--that was the way something sounded; and Dab Kinzer added,--

"Go for that fellow on the gra.s.s, Ford: I'll take care of the long one."

"You will,--will you?"

Spat--spat--spat!

"Oh! I see: you don't know how to box; weak in the arms too. Better go home."

The tall boy was stepping backwards quite rapidly, with one hand on his nose, and the other swinging wildly in the air above him; and Ford was keeping the "fellow on the gra.s.s" from getting up, when all the noise around them suddenly ceased.

"Dr. Brandegee!"

"Where? Where?"

"Coming across the green, at the upper end."

"He's coming this way."

Several of the late a.s.sailants started on a run at once; but Dab Kinzer had caught a sharp whisper from Frank Harley, and he shouted,--

"No you won't, Joe Hart! Hold on, Fuz! That other chap must stay too.

Give d.i.c.k back his groceries."

"Dey's hooked a pile ob 'em," said d.i.c.k, his eyes dancing with triumph.

"Jes' make 'em hand ober."

"Do you mean to say we've been stealing?" fiercely demanded Joe.

"What, me? me, steal?" almost gasped Fuz.

"They wouldn't do such a thing as that," said Ford, not quite comprehending the situation.

"That's it," said Dab: "let 'em empty their pockets"--

Joe was indignantly turning inside out the side pockets of his neat "cut-away," and a small, brown-paper-covered parcel dropped upon the ground.

"Dem's de cloves," shouted d.i.c.k, as he darted forward, and picked it up.

The fingers of Fuz almost unconsciously imitated those of his elder brother, and with a like result.

"Dat's de cinnamon. If de oder feller didn't git de tea an' de sal'ratus! Whar's de nutmegs?"

These, too, were forthcoming, as well as a paper of "indigo blue" for the next Monday's washing, and other items which testified strongly as to "how much at a time" Mrs. Myers was in the habit of buying.

It was all over in less than half a minute, but d.i.c.k's a.s.sailants looked very much as if they wanted to sink right down through the gra.s.s.

"Go home, Joseph," said Ford; "go home, Foster. I'll write to your father that you're out of these things at your boarding-house. We _buy_ all our groceries, where we live."

"I never touched a thing," roared Joe. "Somebody put 'em in my pockets."

"Don't say any thing more, Joseph," said Ford calmly. "If you don't get enough to eat, come over to our house: we won't let you starve. Give you all the bluing you want too."

They did not seem to need any just then; and there was such a crowd of boys gathering that they were glad to take Ford's advice, and hurry away. Even then a good deal more attention might have been paid them, all around, but for the excitement created in the mind of every boy who looked at the great strings of fish Dab and his friends had dropped when they went in to the rescue of d.i.c.k Lee.

Questions as to where they were caught, and how, poured upon the young fishermen so fast that it was not easy to dodge them all at once, or prevent a general stampede of the academy boys to Green Pond.

"They'd use up the boat in one day, and all the fish in the next," said Dab to Frank; "but where'd you learn to do what you did for Fuz and Joe?"

"Sleight-of-hand? Oh! one of father's Hindu converts had been a juggler.

He taught me. They're the best in the world, but father doesn't like me to do much of it. We can have some fun with it yet, though. It came to me like a flash when I saw those things on the ground."

"Served 'em right. Spoiling 'em on the ground was next thing to stealing."

"Come on, boys," said Ford. "It's after five o'clock."

They were all glad to escape from the crowd, especially d.i.c.k Lee; and it was not until they were across the street that the tall form of Dr.

Brandegee came slowly down past the ball-players. He seemed particularly interested in that game. It was currently reported, indeed, that he had been a first-cla.s.s athlete in his younger days, and that he took a quiet half-hour in the morning with his dumb-bells now, before doing any thing at all with his Greek and Latin.

The "short-stop" was a well-built, sunburned student of at least twenty; and the doctor noticed how neatly he had been doing his work.

"Wish I could catch an equation as well as I can a ball," said the young fellow, coloring a little, perhaps at the memory of something in mathematics which had "got by him."

"You will, I think. By the way, didn't I see what looked like a disturbance down here among the boys, just now?"

"Disturbance? Well, yes, I should say there was. Came near interrupting the game."

"Any thing serious?"

"Well, it might have been. Some of the boys made a set on that little colored chap. Mean thing to do. I'd ha' stopped it myself; but that Kinzer boy, and the other two that board with Mrs. Myers, they cleared it all up in no time."

"No fighting, I hope?"

"Well, no; but I tell you what, doctor, the rest of the boys'll let that n.i.g.g.e.r alone. His friends can box."

"Ah, yes! I understand. They stood by him. Wouldn't see him imposed upon."

"They just wouldn't. They're prime little chaps. The other boys were bigger'n they are. I'd ha' helped 'em, but they didn't need any help."

"No. Yes,--I see. It won't do to have any fighting, but then! H'm! They stood right by him! Good-afternoon, Mr. Pulsifer."

"Good-afternoon, Dr. Brandegee. There, if he hasn't made me lose a hit!