"Vamoose!
Twenty-three in a hurry! Make your get-away!"
"Until I've made you listen to reason," Prescott insisted, "I
won't leave you."
"Oh, yes, you will, and right now, or-----"
"No!"
"See here!"
Mosher held a hard, horny fist menacing before Dick's face, but
the high school boy failed to wince.
"Git! Now, or crawl later!" warned Mosher.
"I'm going to make you listen to-----"
"Put up your guard!"
At least Mosher was "square" enough to give warning of his intentions.
He threw himself on guard, then waited for perhaps five seconds.
"Are you going to cool down and listen!" demanded Dick Prescott
firmly.
Out shot the Mosher youth's left fist. Dick dodged. It was a
feint; Dick nearly stopped Mosher's right.
Blows rained in thickly now. Not every one could Prescott dodge,
though he was more agile and better trained than this more powerful
youth.
At last, smarting from a glancing blow on the nose, Dick darted
in and clinched with his adversary. It was bad judgment, but
punishment had stung him into desperate recklessness.
"Stop it!" panted the high school boy.
"Won't!" retorted Mosher, increasing his pressure about the smaller
boy's waist until Prescott felt dizzy. In that extremity the
Gridley boy worked a neat little trip.
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