thrash some one, the red-faced
man came along, shouting savagely. It was just at this moment
that Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes, sprinting fast, came out through
the gateway.

"Look out, boys! He'll kill you!" shouted one well-meaning citizen
in the background.

"Will he?" grunted Dick grimly. "Greg, I'll tackle the fellow---you
be ready to fall on him. Head down, now---charge!"

As though they had darted around the right end of the football
battle line, and had sighted the enemy's goal line, Prescott and
Holmes charged straight for the infuriated fellow.

"Get outer my way!" roared red-face, turning slightly and running
furiously at them.

Dick's head was down, but that did not prevent his seeing through
his long hair.

"Get out of my way, you kid!" gasped the big fellow, halting in
his amazement as he saw this youngster coming straight at him.

Greg was off the sidewalk, running a few feet out from the gutter

But Dick sailed straight in. As he came close, red-faced seemed
to feel uneasy about this reckless boy, for the big fellow, holding
his fists so that he could use them, swerved slightly to one side.

Fifty people were looking on, now, most of them amazed and fearing
for young Prescott.

But Dick, running still lower, charged straight for his man.
The big fellow, with a bellow, aimed his fists.

Dick wasn't hit, however. Instead, he grappled with the fellow,
just below the thighs, then straightened up somewhat---all quick
as a flash.

That big mountain of flesh swayed, then toppled. Red-face went
down, not with a crash, but more after the manner of a collapse.

As he fell, Greg darted in from the street and fell upon the big
fellow's chest. In another instant young Prescott was a-top of
the fellow.

"Keep him down, boys!" yelled Coach Morton.

Just before the coach sprinted to the spot Dave Darrin, then Tom
Reade, and then Tom Purcell, hurled themselves into the fray.

When the coach arrived he could not find a spot on red-face at
which to take hold.

The policeman, limping a bit, came up as fast as he could.

"Will you young gentlemen help me to put these handcuffs on?"
asked the officer, dangling a pair of steel bracelets.

"Will we?" ejaculated Dave. "Whoop!"

"Roll the fellow over!" called Dick Prescott.

With a gleeful shout the squad members rolled red-face over,
dragging his powerful arms behind his back. There was a scuffle,
but Coach Morton helped. A minute more an