“I told you!” he whooped.
Mullin scrambled up, his eyes glaring with fury. The moment he was on his feet he made a rush.
The stranger side-stepped and banged his opponent on the ribs. The blow seemed to stop Mullin in his tracks. His hands dropped a little, and an instant later he received a right-hander on the jaw that once more sent him flat.
This did not end the contest, however, for Tapper was not seriously hurt. He rose slowly, but rushed again as soon as he was on his feet. This time he swung twice and then attempted to clinch. His blows were avoided, and the stranger seized him about the waist and gave him a whirling flop into the air.
Mullin came down in the same heavy fashion as Billings had fallen.
“Foul! foul!” cried several.
“Excuse me!” exclaimed the stranger. “I didn’t know any particular rules were mentioned.”
A discussion arose that was stopped by McCord, who agreed with the hobo that no rules had been mentioned, and, therefore, no rules had been broken.
By this time Tapper was up once more. Although he had been jolted severely he would not quit.
“Give him all that’s coming,” urged Skip Billings, in the tramp’s ear. “He won’t crow over me after this.”