“‘And they were black as crows could be,’” finished Herb.
The objects of these unflattering remarks had caught sight of the four boys, and as at the moment they were at a corner, they hesitated slightly, as though they were minded to turn down the side street. But after conferring for a moment, they kept on, their leader assuming a swaggering air. And whereas before the three had been simply conversing as they came along, they now began a boisterous skylarking, snatching each other’s caps and knocking each other about.
Just as they came abreast of the other group, Buck gave Lutz a violent shove and sent him with full force against Joe, who was nearest. The latter was taken unawares and almost knocked off his feet.
Joe had a quick temper, and the malicious wantonness of the act made his blood boil. He rushed toward Buck, who backed away from him, his face gradually losing the grin it wore.
“What did you mean by that?” demanded Joe, clenching his fist.
“Aw, what’s the matter with you?” growled Buck. “How did I know he’d knock against you? It was just an accident. Why didn’t you get out of the way?”
“Accident nothing,” replied Joe. “You’re the same sneak that you always were, Buck Looker. You planned that thing when you stopped and talked together. And now something’s going to happen to you, and it won’t be an accident, either!”
He advanced upon Buck, who hurriedly retreated to the middle of the street and looked about him for a stone.
“You keep away from me, Joe Atwood, or I’ll let you have this,” he half snarled, half whined, stooping as he spoke and picking up a stone as big as his fist.
“You coward!” snapped Joe, still advancing. “Don’t think that’s going to save you from a licking.”