“What’s the matter?” asked Jack.
“None of your business,” snapped Nixon, lighting a cigarette.
“You needn’t be so cross,” whined Jack, who was used to rather shabby treatment from the bully, to whom he toadied in the hope of favors.
“I guess you’d be cross if you had the tumble I did to-day,” growled Noddy.
“Somebody knock you down?” asked Pender, incautiously.
“Somebody knock me down? I’d like to see ’em try it,” boasted Noddy. “No. I was out taking a spin, and that young cub of a Ned Slade tried to upset me. I got even with him, though,” added Noddy, to whom telling the truth did not come natural. “I gave his wheel a twist and sent him flying. I guess he won’t forget his fall in a hurry. He got worse than I did,” which was not so, though Jack did not know it.
“Serves him good and right,” chuckled the toady. “I can’t bear Ned. He’s too uppish. Thinks because his father has a little money he’s better than the rest of us. And I haven’t any use for his chums, Bob and Jerry.”
“Same here,” agreed Noddy, lighting another cigarette. “But I’ll get even with ’em. My father has as much money as any of their fathers’ has. They needn’t think they can down me.”
“Bully for you,” cried Jack, hoping to curry favor. “I’d like a chance to get even too.”
“Maybe it will come before you think it will.”