"Don't let them get away! Take 'em prisoners!" whooped a tall lad, who was doing his share of the mauling. But that was easier said than done. The now sadly demoralized enemy scattered in every direction, some running wildly down the road, and others vanishing in the darkness of the wood. "They're gone!" cried Lanky Wallace, in disgust, as he found that the fellow he had embraced was no other than his fat friend, Buster Billings. "Let me go, hang it! You've squeezed the last breath out of me! I'd had that dub, only for your interference. Such rotten luck!" gasped the stout one, as he shook himself free from Lanky's encircling arms. Frank was at the side of the boy they had rescued just in time. "How is it, Ralph, did they pummel you hard?" he asked, solicitously. "I gave 'em more than I took; but my head sings a bit from the nasty knock that sneak Asa Barnes gave me from behind!" replied the other. "From behind!" echoed Lanky, indignantly; "well, wouldn't that jar you some now? But what else could you expect from that snake in the grass? He never fought fair in all his life. I hope you got one or two in back on him, Ralph." "Didn't you hear him howl for help?" replied the other, quickly. "That was when I nailed him. I guess his head rings about as much as mine does. But, boys, you came just in time. I was in a tight box. And I'm ever so much obliged for the help." "Don't mention it, old chap. We really needed the exercise, and the only thing I complain of is that it all happened too fast. Why, I don't believe I really got my windmill working freely when I was threshing the air. Zip! and they were gone," and Paul Bird laughed heartily at the hasty way in which the enemy had vanished. "You're sure they didn't get you?" persisted Frank. "I guess I'm all right," laughed the other, as he swung both arms back and forth, and bent his body to test his muscles; "you see, there wasn't time enough for them to do much damage. And they were all so mighty anxious to reach me they really interfered with each other." "As we came up on the run, I thought I heard one fellow give a whoop of pain, as if he had run up against something. Was that your fault, Ralph?" demanded Lanky. "Sure. And what's more, I expect it was Tony. If he shows a black eye to-morrow, give me credit for one goal kicked, boys," replied the party addressed. Bones Shadduck was lighting a match. "Hello! What's that for?" asked Jack Eastwick. "I picked up a hat just now, and the idea struck me that possibly there might be some more headgear lying around. We'd like to know who these pirates are, you see, and here's a chance to get a line on 'em," explained the other, as he bent low to scan the ground in the immediate vicinity. "Matches--who's got any? Pass 'em around, fellows!" called Buster.