mmand the
"Pollard," was not disposed to let the submarine boys go unchallenged.

On came Jack, Hal and Eph, walking abreast, yet ready to break and pass
in silence.

"Dewey, Sampson & Schley!" jeered Don Melville, in a low tone, yet loud
enough to be heard by Jack's party.

Yet the boys paid no heed, but would have passed in silence, had not Don
added, insultingly:

"The three little muckers!"

That was too much for Eph. He couldn't help turning, the flush mounting
to his cheeks, to retort:

"Speak for yourself!"

Don took a step forward. Eph, unable to ignore the implied challenge,
wheeled about.

"Don't bother with the fellow, Eph," muttered Jack, gripping his bellicose
chum by the arm.

"'Fellow'?" cried Don, hotly. "Do you mean that for me?"

"Well," demanded Jack, dryly, "you're not a girl, are you?"

At that Don Melville lost his temper hopelessly. Burning at a white
heat, he hissed:

"I'll show you whether I am, or not, you cur!"

That word "cur" went far toward shattering Jack Benson's good resolutions.
Letting go of Eph's arm he turned to glare at his tormentor.

"You need a lesson, mucker," added Don, hotly.

"Don't soil your hands on the fellow, Don," cried his father, sharply.

"I must, sir, after he has insulted me," cried Don, in a rage. "I must
kick him, anyway."

"Nonsense, Don! No brawling with people of this class," commanded his
father, sternly.

The elder Melville reached out to restrain his son, but that seemed
only to render the young man more furious. He rushed at Jack, aiming
a kick.

"Don't you dare try that!" warned young Benson, his eyes flashing.

But Don, despite both warnings, did swing his foot. Jack dodged the
impact, then darted in at the side, landing a blow on young Melville's
chest that sent him staggering back.

"Strike _me_, will you?" flashed Don, throwing himself on guard.

George Melville, aghast at Jack's presumption in attacking his son, now
stepped back, satisfied that Don must avenge the insult.

A dozen boys, talking over baseball nearly a block away, saw the start
of this encounter.

"Fight! fight!" they yelled, gleefully, and raced down the street.

The cries readied the private office in the boatyard. Suspecting,
partly, what might be up, Jacob Farnum snatched his hat, running out.
David Pollard followed.

"You young puppy!" almost screamed. "I'll teach you a lesson that you
need."

"I'm usually particular about where I get