in the way of outdoor sports lay in his running.
"Somebody cut my hands loose!" gasped Frank, whose blood had been fired by this cowardly action of the smaller hobo.
Almost before the words were out of his mouth one of the fellows, who held an open pocket knife in his hand, had applied the blade to the cords. They fell apart, and with a tiger like jump Frank was on Joey.
He heard the other man shout out something. Then came the report of a pistol; but George Hastings had kicked it from the extended hand of Martin when he tried to make use of the weapon. After that the whole bunch hurled themselves on the man like so many rats. He threw one off but only to have others clutch hold. Vain were his efforts to run away; for with several clinging to each of his arms and legs like leeches, he could not move ten feet without going down.
Those boys who played football never had a better chance to show their skill at a flying tackle than right then and there. Martin shouted, and said all manner of hard things; but the yelling pack covered him, and swarmed about him until finally they got him down for good.
Meanwhile Frank was having all he could do to hold his own against the other fellow. Joey was in a desperate state of mind now. He saw that they
