“And a good friend paid your fine?” remarked Ralph curiously. “Could the friend be Andy McCarrey, for instance?”
“You want to know too much, Fairbanks,” said Whitey sullenly.
“I’m a good guesser,” rejoined the young dispatcher, dragging the fellow to his feet. “Now, listen to me, Whitey. This time I’ll let you go. I won’t turn you over to the police as you deserve.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” cried Whitey.
“You tempt me too far and I’ll show you right now what I dare to do. You keep away from Supervisor Hopkins’ house.”
“Yah! You’re one of his tools, you are!” exclaimed Whitey.
“Listen!” commanded Ralph, shaking him.
“Ow! Ow! Ouch!”
“Listen! You keep away from this street! And further, don’t you trouble Mr. Hopkins’ wife or daughter. Remember, I’ve got your number. If you throw another cabbage or annoy the Hopkins’ family in any way, you’ll go to the farm.”
He threw the ill-smelling fellow from him and turned sharply to walk away. Whitey could not resist another word. He yelled: