“Do yer? I’m glad yer do! Mebbe you remember that there was a baseball game started and that it ended in a row?”
“Yes; we remember that.”
“Do yer? Well, I am glad yer do! My boy pitched in that game, and he was in the fight. He got hurt in that fight and had a black eye for a week afterward.”
“Too bad!” said Ted Smart. “I am so sorry for poor Jack! Did he really have a black eye? It’s a shame he didn’t have two black eyes.”
“Now, don’t you try ter git funny with me, you little runt!” snapped John Cole. “Jack ain’t looking fer no trouble with you. You ain’t wurth noticing.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” said Ted.
“There’s one feller here,” pursued Cole, thrusting his fingers into his sandy beard and scratching his chin, “that my boy, Jack, says he’d like to have a little settlement with.”
“I opine I’m the party,” said Buckhart, rising.
“No, you ain’t,” denied Cole. “That’s the feller right there.”
He pointed straight at Dick.