The Cruise of the Dazzler | Page 8

snarled, angry at the interruption.
"None of yer business," the newcomer retorted tartly. "But, if it 'll do
you any good, I 'm a fireman on the China steamers, and, as I said, I 'm
goin' to see fair play. That 's my business. Your business is to give fair
play. So pitch in, and don't be all night about it."
The three boys were as pleased by the appearance of the fireman as
Simpson and his followers were displeased. They conferred together
for several minutes, when Simpson deposited the bundle of kites in the
arms of one of his gang and stepped forward.
"Come on, then," he said, at the same time pulling off his coat.
Joe handed his to Fred, and sprang toward Brick. They put up their fists
and faced each other. Almost instantly Simpson drove in a fierce blow
and ducked cleverly away and out of reach of the blow which Joe
returned. Joe felt a sudden respect for the abilities of his antagonist, but
the only effect upon him was to arouse all the doggedness of his nature

and make him utterly determined to win.
Awed by the presence of the fireman, Simpson's followers confined
themselves to cheering Brick and jeering Joe. The two boys circled
round and round, attacking, feinting, and guarding, and now one and
then the other getting in a telling blow. Their positions were in marked
contrast. Joe stood erect, planted solidly on his feet, with legs wide
apart and head up. On the other hand, Simpson crouched till his head
was nearly lost between his shoulders, and all the while he was in
constant motion, leaping and springing and manoeuvering in the
execution of a score or more of tricks quite new and strange to Joe.
At the end of a quarter of an hour, both were very tired, though Joe was
much fresher. Tobacco, ill food, and unhealthy living were telling on
the gang-leader, who was panting and sobbing for breath. Though at
first (and because of superior skill) he had severely punished Joe, he
was now weak and his blows were without force. Growing desperate,
he adopted what might be called not an unfair but a mean method of
attack: he would manoeuver, leap in and strike swiftly, and then,
ducking forward, fall to the ground at Joe's feet. Joe could not strike
him while he was down, and so would step back until he could get on
his feet again, when the thing would be repeated.
But Joe grew tired of this, and prepared for him. Timing his blow with
Simpson's attack, he delivered it just as Simpson was ducking forward
to fall. Simpson fell, but he fell over on one side, whither he had been
driven by the impact of Joe's fist upon his head. He rolled over and got
half-way to his feet, where he remained, crying and gasping. His
followers called upon him to get up, and he tried once or twice, but was
too exhausted and stunned.
"I give in," he said. "I 'm licked."
The gang had become silent and depressed at its leader's defeat.
Joe stepped forward.
"I 'll trouble you for those kites," he said to the boy who was holding

them.
"Oh, I dunno," said another member of the gang, shoving in between
Joe and his property. His hair was also a vivid red. "You 've got to lick
me before you kin have 'em."
"I don't see that," Joe said bluntly. "I 've fought and I 've won, and there
's nothing more to it."
"Oh, yes, there is," said the other. "I 'm 'Sorrel-top' Simpson. Brick 's
my brother. See?"
And so, in this fashion, Joe learned another custom of the Pit People of
which he had been ignorant.
"All right," he said, his fighting blood more fully aroused than ever by
the unjustness of the proceeding. "Come on."
Sorrel-top Simpson, a year younger than his brother, proved to be a
most unfair fighter, and the good-natured fireman was compelled to
interfere several times before the second of the Simpson clan lay on the
ground and acknowledged defeat.
This time Joe reached for his kites without the slightest doubt that he
was to get them. But still another lad stepped in between him and his
property. The telltale hair, vividly red, sprouted likewise on this lad's
head, and Joe knew him at once for what he was, another member of
the Simpson clan. He was a younger edition of his brothers, somewhat
less heavily built, with a face covered with a vast quantity of freckles,
which showed plainly under the electric light.
"You don't git them there kites till you git me," he challenged in a
piping little voice. "I 'm 'Reddy' Simpson, an' you ain't licked the
fambly