This appeared to enrage Dan Cassell the more.  Either he interpreted it as portraying cowardice, or else he deemed that he had his opponent at his mercy.  At any rate, after an instant’s pause he rushed at Roy with both fists.  It was the young aviator’s opportunity.

“Look out!” he warned.

The next instant the pugnacious Dan Cassell found himself upon his back, regarding a multitude of constellations.

At almost precisely the same time Jimsy’s fist happened to collide with the point of the jaw of the fallen battler’s father.

“Sorry; but I simply had to, you know,” remarked the nonchalant Jimsy, as the red-faced man found himself occupying a position not dissimilar to that of his son.

Both boys were heartily sorry for what had happened, the more so for the reason that at the very instant that both crestfallen bullies were scrambling to their feet the hotel door opened and several of the guests came out to ascertain the cause of the trouble.

Among them was Jonas Hardcastle, the proprietor of the place.

“What’s up?  What’s the trouble?” he demanded, in dismay, as he viewed the scene of the confusion.

“It’s those brats of aviators, or whatever they call themselves,” bellowed Cassell, who was purple with fury; “they attacked Dan and me and assaulted us brutally.”

The landlord looked doubtingly at the man.  Then he turned to Roy.

“What are the facts?” he asked.

Roy told him unhesitatingly the whole truth.  When he had concluded Jonas Hardcastle spoke.

“You’ve been hanging around here too long, Jim Cassell,” he said, in a voice that quivered with indignation; “now make yourself scarce, both you and your son.  Don’t annoy my guests any more.”

Cassell, nursing a spot on his jaw which was rapidly growing a beautiful plum color, lurched off without a word.  His son followed.  It was not until he reached the street that he spoke.  Then, in a voice that trembled from suppressed fury, he hissed out: 

“All right for you kids.  You think you’ve played a smart trick on Dan and me; but I’ll fix you!  Just watch!”

Without uttering another syllable he slouched off into the gathering darkness, followed by his son, who bestowed a parting scowl on Roy and Jimsy.

“I’m sorry that you had a row with them,” remarked Jonas Hardcastle, as the pair vanished.

“How’s that?” inquired Roy.  “They forced it on us, and—­” “I know.  I know all about that,” was the rejoinder, “but Cassell is quite by way of being a politician hereabouts, and he might try to make it uncomfortable for you.”

“In what way?” demanded Jimsy.

“Oh, many ways.  Those fellows have no scruples.  To tell you the truth, boys, I guess you haven’t heard the last of this.”

With this he left them, a prey to no very comfortable thoughts.

“I’m half inclined to believe what he said,” declared Jimsy.