“I say he has got to fight,” said one.
“And I say he hasn’t,” cried Dick. “Who is the leader of this crowd, anyhow?”
“We wouldn’t have much trouble finding a better one,” was the reply.
“Right you are, Ned,” said several voices at once.
“Pick on me if you want to,” said Dick, “but let the kid alone.”
Shirley shrank close to him, for she knew that in him lay her hope of safety. Dick put a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s all right, kid,” he said. “They won’t bother you.”
“Won’t we?” exclaimed one.
He stepped suddenly forward, and before Dick could prevent him, aimed a blow at Shirley. Unconsciously the girl ducked, and the blow barely grazed her head, carrying away her hat, and worst of all, her boy’s wig.
Her long hair came tumbling down.