"I'll see if I can't justify my title of bully-killer," he said, without any appearance of boasting. "Will one of you give me a knee?"
"But look here—" said Jack.
"Where?"
"It's all absurd. You don't know what you're up against. Cummles here is a fighter—"
"You wouldn't have me back down, would you?"
"No; but—"
"The fight will go on," said Fane simply. "I know how to take care of myself. Cummles was anxious to pick a quarrel, and as Patch can't fight for sour apples—"
Patch was standing by, with a little criss-cross mark of puzzlement showing between his eyes.
"I ought really—" he began.
The sardonic voice of the bully interrupted him. "When you fellows have finished gassing to save time," he said, "I'll be ready to thrash you. Both, if you like—it doesn't matter to me a bit. One after the other—who's first? But hurry up."