"Get hold of him, Bad Eye! What are you standing there like a
dummy for? He'll run in a minute."
Phil's better judgment told him to do that very thing, but he
could not bring himself to run from danger. Much as he disliked
a row, he was too plucky and courageous to run from danger.
Bad Eye was rushing at him, his eyes blazing with anger.
Phil side-stepped easily, avoiding his antagonist without the
least difficulty. But now he had to reckon with Larry, who,
by this time, had gotten to his feet.
It was two to one.
"Stand back unless you want to get hurt!" cried Phil, with a
warning glint in his eyes.
Larry, by way of answer, struck viciously at him. Phil, with a
glance about him, saw that he could not expect help, for there
was no one in sight, the performers being engaged at that moment
in driving off the angry laborers, which they were succeeding in
doing with no great effort on their part.
The lad cleverly dodged the blow. But instead of backing away
as the canvasman's fist barely grazed his cheek, Phil, with a
short arm jolt, caught his adversary on the point of his chin.
Larry instantly lost all desire for fight. He sat down on the
hard ground with a bump.
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