Dave Darrin caught up a stick of firewood, Harry Hazelton following suit.
Hen Dutcher didn't do anything except to slink away to one side of the big room.

His bravery didn't go beyond the risk of telling lies.
"If Fits makes a move towards any of us, fellows," commanded Dick, in a tone whose steadiness surprised even young Prescott himself, "then the rest close in on all sides and give this big bully the best you've got." "I wish there was a hatchet for me," growled Dave, whose eyes were flashing dangerously.
"Take this one," replied Dick, passing over his own hastily snatched-up weapon.

Thereupon Prescott fell back for an instant, darting over to a pile of boxes and picking up the air rifle that had been brought along.
"Let's see if this air rifle is working ?" pondered Dick aloud.

He took quick aim and pressed the trigger.
"You dratted little pirate!" roared Mr.Fits, tensing for a leap forward.

"I'll show you----" "You'll get a lot more, if you don't quit trying to run things here," Dick threatened coolly.
Mr.Fits was waving his right hand aloft.