Another instant and the boys would have been in a bad position, for both the gipsies were powerful fellows, and appeared determined to commit violence.  But Roy, releasing his hold of the struggling gipsy woman, put up his fists in such a scientific manner that, for an instant, the attack paused.  This gave Jimsy time to rush to his side.  The instant she was released the woman darted to the side of the men.

“Beat them!  Kill them!” she cried frantically.

The men resumed their rush, and the next moment the boys found themselves fighting to escape a furious assault.  Neither of the lads was a weakling, and good habits and constant athletic exercise had placed them in the pink of condition.

But the two gipsies were no mean antagonists.  Then, too, the one with the cudgel wielded it skillfully.  Time and again Jimsy avoided a heavy blow which, if successful, must have injured him seriously.  The girls, screaming, rushed off, carrying “the Wren,” as the woman called her, with them.  They dashed at top speed back to the spot where the aeroplanes had been left, and summoned Jake.

“I knew something would happen,” declared that worthy, as he picked up a monkey wrench, the only weapon at hand, and started off for the woods.

The girls followed him, Miss Prescott not having been vouchsafed anything but a most hurried explanation of what was going on.  Just as Jake appeared on the scene Jimsy had received a terrific blow on the arm from one of the gipsy’s cudgels.  The boy’s arm dropped as if paralyzed.  With a howl of triumph the ruffian who had dealt him the blow rushed in on the injured lad.  In another instant it would have looked bad indeed for Jimsy, but Roy, landing a hard blow against his assailant, hastened to his chum’s rescue.

“You look after that fellow.  I’ll take care of this one,” cried Jake, rushing into the melee, whirling his monkey wrench in a formidable manner.

The girls, huddled in a group, gazed on in frank alarm.

“Oh, they’ll be killed!” shrilled Jess.

“Roy!  Roy!  Be careful!” cried Peggy.

“Oh, I wish we could get a policeman,” cried Bess, clasping her hands nervously.  But as it happened a policeman, even if such a personage had been within a dozen miles, was not needed.  A clever blow from Roy laid the cudgel wielder low, and the other man, not liking the look of Jake’s monkey wrench, capitulated by taking to his heels.  The woman cowered back among the tents.

“Come on, let’s be going,” cried Roy, as he saw that the battle was over.

“Ouch! my wrist!” exclaimed Jimsy, wringing his left hand; “I believe that fellow has broken it.”

“Let’s have a look,” said Roy, as the two boys made their way to the huddled group of girls.

“Nothing but a nasty whack,” he pronounced, after an examination.  “Well, girls, was it an exciting battle?”

“Oh, it was terrible,” cried Jess; “we thought you’d be badly beaten.”