"Do all your thinking quick, then," advised the other, "for I want satisfaction."
The speaker drove at Ralph with one hand. It was a sledge-hammer blow. Ralph whirled half-way across the room.
His antagonist followed him up quickly. His back now to the window, he put up his fists anew.
"I wanted some training," he chuckled. "Come up to your punishment. Do you know who I am?"
"I do not, and don't care," answered Ralph quickly, nettled out of his ordinary composure by a blow that had nearly knocked the breath out of his body.
"Then you can't read the newspapers. I'm Young Slavin, the juvenile Hercules, light-weight champeen. Come, wade in; I give you one chanct."
"I have no quarrel with you," remarked Ralph. "Stand aside. I wish to leave this room."
"Ho! ho! When you do, it will be on a shutter."
"And I shall not let you pound me. I warn you to mind your own business."
"Time!" roared the pugilist gloatingly.