"I'll trim you next! 'Don't-do-it-again!' eh? Boo! bah!"
Lem raised his foot and kicked over the desk, papers and all.
"That's express company property," observed Bart quietly, but his blood was up, the limit reached. "Get out!"
One arm shot forward, and the clenched muscular fist rested directly under the chin of the astounded Lem Wacker.
"And stay out."
Lem Wacker felt a smart whack, went whirling back over the threshold, and the next instant measured his length, sprawling on the ground outside of the express shed.
CHAPTER VII
WAITING FOR TROUBLE
Lem Wacker rolled over, then sat up, rubbed his head in a half-dazed manner, and muttered in a silly, sheepish way.