“Give it to him, Payne! Knock him out!”
“Look out for yourself!” called a tall man to the unknown; “Alden is a fighter from Fight Town, at the head of Fight River; keep your eye peeled!”
“I’ll help you soak him!” added Jethro, bounding to the side of his master, putting up his big hands, see-sawing with them, ducking his head, and making several feints from a safe distance.
“Keep out of the way!” commanded Alden; “I don’t want your help.”
“Can’t get along widout me; you knock him ober and I’ll stomp on him and smash—”
His impatient master made a vigorous sweep with his hand which tumbled Jethro on his back, with his shoes kicking toward the sky.
“All right!” exclaimed the African, clambering to his feet; “den I’ll help de oder feller.”
And he ran across and assumed a fighting attitude.
“It’s time to teach Al some sense—”
But the stranger was equally impatient, and made a similar back-handed stroke which sent the colored lad down again.
“Keep away or you’ll get hurt,” he warned.
