“Oh, you would, hey?”
“That’s what I told you.”
“Well, I’ll hand you something you won’t forget!”
As he roared forth the threat Stover sprang in and swung a blow at the face of the seemingly unprepared Yale man.
Several minutes later Buzzsaw awoke to find Warwhoop Clinker and Gentle Willie Touch laboring to revive him, while a curious crowd stood around looking on.
“What’s—what’s matter?” mumbled Stover. “What happened to me—sunstroke? This blamed hot weather——”
“It was a stroke, all right,” murmured Gentle Willie, “and it was the son of some proud father who passed it out to you. He was a nice, clean, sweet-looking young man.”
“What’s that?” snarled Stover, struggling to rise. “What are you talking about?”
“You got up against a polite gent and made one reach for him with a bunch of fives,” explained Warwhoop. “Willie and I were over across the way and saw it all. We didn’t know what was going to happen until it was all over and you had stretched yourself out to rest in the dust. He reached your jaw with the quickest wallop I ever saw delivered. There must have been chain lightning behind it, for you went down and out instanter.”
Stover felt of his jaw and rubbed his head wonderingly.