Down he went, and over went Fuz on top of him; and then there were four or five boys all in a heap, with Dick's basket upset just beyond them, and Dick himself diving hither and thither after its late contents, and exclaiming,-- "Cap'n Dab's come! I's all right now.

Jes' let me pick up some ob dese t'ings." There was a resentful ring in the last remark, as if he were thinking of something like war after the recovery of his groceries; but it was indeed the voice of Dab Kinzer, shouting full and clear,-- "Pick 'em up, Dick! we're just in time." A boy somewhat larger than the rest, a good half-head taller than Dabney, but with a somewhat pasty and unhealthy complexion, had selected Ford Foster, as the shortest of the new arrivals, and demanded,-- "What are you meddling for ?" just as he aimed a clumsy blow at his head.
That blow did not hit Ford; but a shorter young ruffian had also picked him out, perhaps for the same reason, and the hit he aimed reached its mark, for Ford had no extra pair of arms behind to box with.

Frank Harley seemed, just then, to be remarkably busy with the heap of boys on the ground.
"Spat!"-- that was the way something sounded; and Dab Kinzer added,-- "Go for that fellow on the grass, Ford: I'll take care of the long one." "You will,--will you ?" Spat--spat--spat! "Oh! I see: you don't know how to box; weak in the arms too.

Better go home." The tall boy was stepping backwards quite rapidly, with one hand on his nose, and the other swinging wildly in the air above him; and Ford was keeping the "fellow on the grass" from getting up, when all the noise around them suddenly ceased.
"Dr.Brandegee!" "Where?
Where ?" "Coming across the green, at the upper end." "He's coming this way." Several of the late assailants started on a run at once; but Dab Kinzer had caught a sharp whisper from Frank Harley, and he shouted,-- "No you won't, Joe Hart! Hold on, Fuz! That other chap must stay too.
Give Dick back his groceries." "Dey's hooked a pile ob 'em," said Dick, his eyes dancing with triumph.
"Jes' make 'em hand ober." "Do you mean to say we've been stealing ?" fiercely demanded Joe.
"What, me?
me, steal ?" almost gasped Fuz.
"They wouldn't do such a thing as that," said Ford, not quite comprehending the situation.
"That's it," said Dab: "let 'em empty their pockets"-- Joe was indignantly turning inside out the side pockets of his neat "cut-away," and a small, brown-paper-covered parcel dropped upon the ground.
"Dem's de cloves," shouted Dick, as he darted forward, and picked it up.
The fingers of Fuz almost unconsciously imitated those of his elder brother, and with a like result.
"Dat's de cinnamon.

If de oder feller didn't git de tea an' de sal'ratus! Whar's de nutmegs ?" These, too, were forthcoming, as well as a paper of "indigo blue" for the next Monday's washing, and other items which testified strongly as to "how much at a time" Mrs.Myers was in the habit of buying.
It was all over in less than half a minute, but Dick's assailants looked very much as if they wanted to sink right down through the grass.
"Go home, Joseph," said Ford; "go home, Foster.