of the man's rush and Pretty's powerful thrust was enough
to lay the wretch upon the ground, writhing and almost unconscious.

For the last thug Pretty had prepared a beautiful back-handed slash
across the face; but the villain, seeing what was in store for him,
dropped down, and rushed at the boy low enough to evade the stick.
Pretty, however, had a check for this move also, and a quick step to
one side saved him from the man's clutch.

Now he recovered himself quickly enough to deliver a vicious whack
straight at the back of the man's head--a blow that would have settled
the tramp's mind for some time to come, but the fellow was running so
fast that Pretty missed his aim, and his stout weapon only dealt a
stinging blow upon the man's left shoulder.

The thug ran on far enough to gain a good vantage-ground, and then,
whirling, came at Pretty again. Now his uplifted hand held an ugly
knife.

The look of this was not pleasant to Pretty's eyes; but the excitement
of the situation was much increased when a glance out of the side of
his eye showed him that the first thug had regained enough nerve to
come limping forward in the endeavor to throttle him.

The men were not coming at him in such a way that he could use the
"point-and-butt thrust" that he had learned for such occasions, so he
decided instantly to repeat upon the first thug the shin-shattering
blow that had been so successful before.

As the man came on, then, Pretty gave a terrific backward slash that
caught the tramp's uninjured shin. It was a beauteous shot, and sent
the fellow to his hunkers, actually boohooing with agony.

And now, with another fine long sweep, this time upward, Pretty sent
a smashing blow at the third tramp's upraised arm. The force of the
stroke was alone strong enough to send the knife flying; but, by the
addition of a bit of good luck, Pretty caught the wretch on his crazy
bone, and set him to such a caterwauling as cats sing of midnights on
a back-yard fence.

Leaving the battered Three Graces to their different dances, Pretty
picked up the knife he had knocked from the hand of the third, and
sauntered homeward, adjusting his somewhat ruffled collar and tie as
he went, with magnificent self-possession.

On his way he met the party of rescuers sent to him by Enid, who had
managed to reach town in rapid time. Pretty calmly sent them back to
pick up the three tramps he had left; and these gentlemen were stowed
away in the Laker