For Frank had met Dunton’s rush squarely, parried the fellow’s blow, and knocked him down.
The girls, looking back, saw all this.
Dunton was stunned, dazed, astounded. He sat up, clasping a hand over his eye, and staring at Frank.
Hans and Ephraim strolled up.
“Py Chorch!” said the Dutch lad. “I nefer oxbected to seen Misder Tunton seddin’ himseluf down to rest der sidevalks on like dot.”
“Waal,” drawled Ephraim, his face twisted into a comical grin, “yeou can’t never tell jest whut a feller with a real light head will do. He’s apt to lose his b’lance an’ set daown ’most anywhere.”
“Vot you peen doin’ him to, Vrankie?” inquired Hans, innocently. “He don’d seem to felt as vell as you might, don’d id?”
“He does look kainder gol darn sick to his stummick,” nodded Ephraim.
Some of the townspeople began to gather around, and Dunton hastily rose to his feet. He glared at Frank, muttered:
“All right! all right! You’ll settle for that! I’ll remember it!”