Brick tried to grin, and groaned in spite of himself. His jaw still ached mightily where his antagonist’s doubled fist had struck, and his swollen lower lip was bleeding slightly.
“I have to hand it to him,” he mumbled, and with Jake’s help clambered unsteadily to his feet.
“Gollies, how did he do it? It was as clean a knockout as I ever seen.”
“Well, you were asking for it,” observed Slim Yerkes.
“I guess I was.” Brick smiled ruefully. “Van Horn, I guess we’ve been gettin’ each other wrong. There may be some things about campin’ that you don’t know, but when it comes to scrappin’——! Say, you beat me square, but I don’t hold any grudge. From now on, let’s forget everything and be friends. What do you say?” He held out his hand in a frank gesture.
Dirk looked at the outstretched hand, and his lip curled slightly.
“Ryan,” he said deliberately, “I said you were a mucker, and I still think so. Any time you want another boxing lesson, come around. Otherwise, kindly keep to your own affairs and leave me to mine.” He pointedly turned his back, picked up his wet shirt, and stalked off up the path to the lodge.
Brick bit his lip, and his hand dropped with an angry gesture to his side; but he said nothing. Jerry Utway left the group and ran after Dirk, catching up with him and walking at a fast pace by his side.
“Hey, Van, will you show me some time how you made that knockout? I want to try it out on my brother next time we have a row. Gee, if anybody had told me you could put out Brick Ryan’s lights, I wouldn’t have believed it! Where did you learn how to fight like that?”
“My father has seen to it that I had the best boxing lessons that money could buy.” Dirk smiled grimly. “Yesterday Ryan seemed to think that having money wasn’t of much value; but I hope that now he has learned that scientific self-defense is a good thing to acquire. And because my father could pay for those boxing lessons, I don’t have to be bullied by any street-boy that comes along.”