Just as
Jake appeared on the scene Jimsy had received a terrific blow on the arm
from one of the gipsy's cudgels. The boy's arm dropped as if paralyzed.
With a howl of triumph the ruffian who had dealt him the blow rushed in
on the injured lad. In another instant it would have looked bad indeed
for Jimsy, but Roy, landing a hard blow against his assailant, hastened
to his chum's rescue.
"You look after that fellow. I'll take care of this one," cried Jake,
rushing into the melee, whirling his monkey wrench in a formidable
manner.
The girls, huddled in a group, gazed on in frank alarm.
"Oh, they'll be killed!" shrilled Jess.
"Roy! Roy! Be careful!" cried Peggy.
"Oh, I wish we could get a policeman," cried Bess, clasping her hands
nervously. But as it happened a policeman, even if such a personage had
been within a dozen miles, was not needed. A clever blow from Roy laid
the cudgel wielder low, and the other man, not liking the look of Jake's
monkey wrench, capitulated by taking to his heels. The woman cowered
back among the tents.
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