“Yes; I hit you, you scum!” rang out the clear voice of the visitor. “If you will get up, I’ll take great pleasure in hitting you again!”
One of the machinists got hold of the arm of the youth, and found it hard as iron. He whispered in the stranger’s ear:
“You’d better get out! That’s Old Slugs, and he’ll kill you! He’s dead nutty when he’s mad.”
“Thank you,” said the visitor, quietly. “Don’t worry about me. That’ll be all right.”
“You took him by surprise before. Next time——”
“Next time I shall hit him harder.”
The wiper scrambled to his feet, snarling savagely. He leaped backward as he got up, in order to be beyond the reach of the fearless youth, who seemed ready to come at him.
“Now,” he grated—“now I’ll smash ye!”
With the grace of a fawn and the agility of a cat, the young man avoided the rush, and he planted a swinging blow under the ear of the wiper, sending the latter whirling and staggering away.