Jack Benson hesitated.  He did not care about fighting.  Yet, seeing that Jaggers meant to have a final encounter, Jack dropped nimbly down to the gravel.

Dan Jaggers rushed at him, both fists up on guard, his whole attitude more cautious since he had had a taste of the smaller youth’s quality.  Jack was about two inches shorter and fully thirty pounds lighter, but he made one think of a dancing master as he skipped away before the big fellow’s rushes.

“Stand still, won’t ye, drat ye?” roared Dan, driving in another heavy blow.

But Benson dodged, then came in under the bully’s guard, landing a stinging blow on the tip of his nose.  Under punishment Dan let out a noise resembling the bellow of an angry bull.  Glowering, he stood uncertain, for a moment, but Jack was tantalizingly just out of his reach, smiling confidently.  Then Jaggers leaped forward, hopeful of winding his arms around this foe and crushing him into submission.  A second later, however, Dan fell backward, yelling with pain, for Jack Benson had landed a left handed blow just under his opponent’s right eye, partly closing it.  Dan bent over double, still groaning.

“Well, I swan!” said the astonished Jabez Holt, in the doorway of his hotel.

Jack stood his ground a few moments, watching until he felt sure that his enemy did not intend to carry the affair further.  Then the younger boy stepped lightly back to the porch, standing just before the chair from which he had lately been evicted.

“Just bear in mind, I’ll git square with ye for this!” uttered Jaggers, wrathfully, glaring at young Benson with his undamaged eye.  Then he turned and stalked away, muttering under his breath.

“Well, I swan!” remarked Jabez Holt again, now stepping out onto the porch.  “I guess that sartain done Dan Jaggers some good.  He needs some of that medicine, friends.  An’ say, here’s Josh Owen coming up from Farnum’s boatyard.”

Jack and Hal both turned quickly to gaze down the road at a man just coming out through the gate of Farnum’s yard.

“He’s the man we want to meet,” cried Jack Benson, breathlessly.

“I dunno,” replied Mr. Holt, shaking his head, ominously.  “I dunno as it’ll do ye much good, now.  Dan Jaggers is Josh Owen’s nephew and favorite!”

CHAPTER II

THE FIGHTING CHANCE

“My type of torpedo boat is going to rule the seas in naval warfare,” declared David Pollard, his eyes a-kindle with the enthusiasm of the sincere inventor.

“I’m sure of it,” replied Jack Benson, quietly.  “That’s why, Mr. Pollard, Hal and I are so anxious to get into this work.  Mr. Pollard, when your type of submarine diving torpedo boat is understood by the United States Government you’ll need some reliable and intelligent experts.  Take us in now.  Let us learn the work with you.  Let us go ahead, keeping pace with the progress in Pollard torpedo boats, and you will never be sorry you have two young fellows you can depend upon.”