“A settlement? You don’t owe us anything, Noddy,” said Ned easily and with a mocking smile.
“Yes, I do!” stormed the bully. “You’ve gone about telling everybody I shot myself on purpose in France. I didn’t at all. It’s untrue.”
“Is it?” asked Jerry coolly. “Then you’d better take it up with the war department. They put S.I.W., meaning self-inflicted wound, up over your cot—we didn’t!”
“It’s not so! It’s untrue!” shouted Noddy. “I’ll fix you for it, too! And for trying to run me down just because you have a new car!”
“Drive on, Jerry,” advised Ned, in a low voice.
“There’s a crowd collecting,” added Bob.
Jerry let in the clutch, having shifted to first, and the auto drew away.
Back on the street corner stood Noddy Nixon and his crony.
“They think they’re mighty smart!” murmured Jack.
“Smart! I’ll show ’em!” muttered Noddy. “I’ll get square for all the things the Motor Boys have done to me if it takes ten years! I’ll get square with them, all right!”