Jane, who had mounted the box with Jessie, cried, “Look out, Jack!” just as a heavy stone crashed against the back of his head.  Some brute in the crowd had sent it with all his force.  The stone broke through the Derby hat and opened a wide gash in Jack’s scalp, and sent him to the ground with a thousand stars glittering before his eyes.  Jane gave a sob and covered her eyes.  Jessie swayed as though she would fall, but she never took her eyes from the fallen man; her lips moved, but she said nothing; and her face was ghastly white.  Jarvis heard the dull thud against Jack’s head and knew that he was falling.  Whirling swiftly, he stopped a savage blow that was aimed at the stricken man, and with a back-handed cut laid the striker low.

“All right, Jack; keep down till the stars are gone.”  He stood with one sturdy leg on each side of Jack’s body and his big club made a charmed circle about him.  It was not more than twenty seconds before the wheels were out of Jack’s head and he was on his feet again, though not quite steady.

Jack’s fall had given courage to the gang, and they made a furious attack upon Jarvis, who was now alone and not a little impeded by the friend at his feet.  As Jack struggled to his legs, a furious blow directed at him was parried by Jarvis’s left arm,—­his right being busy guarding his own head.  The blow was a fearful one; it broke the small bone in the forearm, beat down the guard, and came with terrible force upon poor Jack’s left shoulder, disabling it for a minute.  At the same time Jarvis received a nasty blow across the face from an unexpected quarter.  He was staggered by it, but he did not fall.  Jack’s right arm was good and very angry; a savage jab with his club into the face of the man who had struck Jarvis laid him low, and Jack grinned with satisfaction.

Things were going hard with the young men.  They had, indeed, disqualified nine of the enemy; but there were still eight or ten more, and through hard work and harder knocks they had lost more than half their own fighting strength.  At this rate they would be used up completely while there were still three or four of the enemy on foot.  This was when they needed aid, and aid came.

No sooner had Lars found himself at liberty and with a club in his hands than he began to use it with telling effect.  He attacked the outer circle, striking every head he could reach, and such was his sprightliness that four men fell headlong before the others became aware of this attack from the rear.  This diversion came at the right moment, and proved effective.  There were now but six of the enemy in fighting condition, and these six were more demoralized by the sudden and unknown element of a rear attack than by the loss of their thirteen comrades.  They hesitated, and half turned to look, and two of them fell under the blows of Jack and Jarvis.  As the rest turned to escape, the Swede’s club felled one, and the other three ran for dear life.  They did not escape,