Part 36 (1/2)

”Minding our business, b.o.o.by!” leered Fred.

”You've no right here. Get out!” d.i.c.k ordered.

All of the intruding feasters were now regarding Prescott mockingly. But perhaps Hen Dutcher, who was seated on the furthest side of the table from the door, was most pleased of all.

”Now, you want to shut your mouth, d.i.c.k Prescott, and keep it shut,”

advised Hen. ”You're not running this show, and you'll find it out mighty soon if you don't keep your tongue behind your teeth.”

”My, how brave you've grown, Hen!” remarked d.i.c.k scornfully. ”You were taken in and looked after, and now you've brought this gang of hoodlums down on us.”

”Be careful there, small boy!” warned Fred Ripley, flus.h.i.+ng.

”As for you, Ripley,” d.i.c.k went on, ”wouldn't your father be proud to find you with a crowd like this, and stealing food that belongs to other people?”

”See here, you little rat,” snarled Fred inelegantly, as he leaped up, kicking his chair over and striding toward the Prescott group, ”you want to keep your tongue under control, or you're going to be sorry that you didn't.”

”Let's take the kid down to the spring, break the ice and give his head a soaking in the spring water,” proposed Bert Dodge, rising, too, and coming forward.

”Hurrah!” cheered Hen. ”That's the stuff. Not a bit too good, either, for a chump like d.i.c.k Prescott!”

But d.i.c.k wouldn't pay any heed to this renegade Grammar School boy who had gone back on his own mates.

”And where are the two friends we left here?” demanded d.i.c.k, undismayed by the advance of Fred Ripley and Bert Dodge. Tom and Dave drew a little closer to their chum, while Harry Hazelton flanked Dave.

”What do we know about your friends?” sneered Ripley. ”What do we know about any of your cheap crowd?”

”And what do you imagine we care about them, either?” demanded Dodge.

”Are you fellows going to get out of here?” d.i.c.k demanded.

”When we get good and ready,” retorted Fred, grinning. ”That may be to-morrow or the next day.”

”I suppose,” d.i.c.k went on angrily, ”you think you have a perfect right to stay here and to go on stealing our food?”

”You call me a thief, do you?” flared Fred.

”Do you consider yourself any better?” d.i.c.k asked. He was at white heat, fighting mad, and cared little what he said to these rowdyish intruders.

”Grab 'em, fellows!” ordered Fred, making a leap at d.i.c.k, while the other intruders rose from their places at table.

But d.i.c.k's right fist landed on Ripley's face, leaving a big, red mark there, while Dave's ready foot tripped the bully, sending him to the floor. Ripley was on his feet again in a twinkling.

”Get back, Ripley!” ordered d.i.c.k, making a dash at him. ”See here, you rowdy, I'm smaller than you are, but I'm willing to go outdoors with you and see if I can't teach you some manners.”

”And I'll take pleasure in introducing myself to Bert Dodge at the same time,” announced Darrin, his eyes flas.h.i.+ng.

”I'll do my best with any other tough who'll oblige me,” added Tom Reade.

”Bullies, toughs, rowdies, are we?” raged Fred Ripley, on his guard, though just prudent enough to keep out of reach of d.i.c.k's fists. There was a look in Prescott's eyes that the lawyer's self-willed son didn't wholly like.