“Dear, dear! Now he won’t speak to me! My heart is breakin’, boys!” Quickly Brick dropped his mocking tone, and his next words were threatening. He scowled fiercely into the face of his enemy. “Now, listen, you! I hate sissies, and I hate tattle-tales, and if you don’t like the way I talk, you may wake up with a ring around your eye, and a lily in your hand!”
Slim Yerkes tried to interpose. “Come on, Brick—don’t pick on him too much. Let’s get back to the lodge.”
Brick wheeled on the peacemaker. “He’s lookin’ for trouble, Slim, and he’s more than likely to get it. I’ve got half a mind to poke him one right now for good luck.”
Dirk’s eyes flashed. “That might not be as easy as you seem to think!”
“Huh! Tough, aren’t you?” His open hand darted out swiftly, and unexpectedly shoved Dirk off his balance. Dirk cried out, caught himself, and his fists clenched. He was pale save for two red spots that glowed in his cheeks.
“That’s enough, Ryan!” he said, his lip trembling. “If you really must settle this by scuffling like a street boy, who—— I’ll fight you!”
Brick’s laugh was unpleasant to hear. “He’ll fight! Listen, sissies like you take a chance on gettin’ murdered if they talk fight to Brick Ryan! Why, you mama’s boy, I’ll knock you so cold you’ll think you’re at the North Pole!”
His words were louder than he thought. From a tent a hundred yards away, a tousled head appeared, and shouted something to those within the tent. “Fight! Fight!” In no time at all, the two Utway twins, followed by Al Canning, had run down from the tent and joined the little ring of boys from Tent One.
Dirk was silently peeling off his wet gym-shirt.
“You’re really going to go against Brick Ryan?” Slim Yerkes asked in astonishment.