“Well, he——”
“If ye does, Jim, ye ain’t no broder of mine. Ye oughter lick dat boy wid one hand tied behind yer an’ yer eyes shut.”
“Oh, I might ’a’ done it,” said the young ruffian, “but all his friends was wid him.”
“Thought you said none of ’em touched yer?”
“Well, none of ’em did—’cept his broder.”
“Frank Merriwell?”
“Yes.”
“Wot did he do?” demanded the fellow in uniform sharply. “If he done anyt’ing to my broder——”
Squinty Jim saw his chance, and he glibly lied: