“What old basement?” asked the poet innocently.
“You know; but I don’t know how you escaped. Gimme that club.”
“Thanks! Take it!” Then Boltwood soaked Jack again.
But this time Ready caught hold of the club and tried to wrench it away. Boltwood held on, and they tussled for possession of the weapon, while all round them raged the battle most furiously.
“I’d give a quarter to know how you got out,” said Jack.
“I’ve never been in,” said Boltwood; “so save your quarter. You’ll need it for arnica and court-plaster.”
“Leggo!”
“Nit!”
Then Jack made a spring and tried to grapple with Boltwood.
“I’ll just toss you round a little,” he said, with confidence in his ability to do so.