Joe heard terrified cries of "Fish gang!" "Fish gang!" from those who
fled, and he would have fled himself from this new danger, only he was
breathless from his last encounter, and knew the impossibility of
escaping whatever threatened. Fred and Charley felt mighty longings
to run away from a danger great enough to frighten the redoubtable
Simpson gang and the valorous fireman, but they could not desert
their comrade.
Dark forms broke into the vacant lot, some surrounding the boys and
others dashing after the fugitives. That the laggards were overtaken
was evidenced by the cries of distress that went up, and when later
the pursuers returned, they brought with them the luckless and snarling
Brick, still clinging fast to the bundle of kites.
Joe looked curiously at this latest band of marauders. They were young
men of from seventeen and eighteen to twenty-three and -four years of
age, and bore the unmistakable stamp of the hoodlum class. There were
vicious faces among them--faces so vicious as to make Joe's flesh creep
as he looked at them. A couple grasped him tightly by the arms, and
Fred and Charley were similarly held captive.
"Look here, you," said one who spoke with the authority of leader,
"we 've got to inquire into this. Wot 's be'n goin' on here? Wot 're
you up to, Red-head? Wot you be'n doin'?"
"Ain't be'n doin' nothin'," Simpson whined.
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