Dick Hoover came in, after a while, and gripped him by the shoulder. “I say,” he exclaimed excitedly, “they tell me Amos has thrown you down. Is it true?”
Wint nodded. “Yes,” he said crisply.
Hoover swore. “The dirty, double-crossing hound. What are you going to do?”
“Lick him,” Wint replied.
Hoover looked doubtful. “Lick him? You can’t, Wint.”
Wint said nothing.
“Can you?” Dick Hoover asked.
“I’m going to,” said Wint.
Hoover banged his fist on the book that lay open before Wint. “By God, you’ll find some that are willing to help!”
“I know it,” Wint agreed.