“By gosh!” cried Tom, “I’ll stouch yer.”
He suited the action to the word by punching the other boy in the ribs.
In retaliation Dave kicked Tom’s shins viciously.
It was a rather lively rough-and-tumble for about a minute and a half; then Dave recovered sense enough to realise that he was not in the grip of an unknown assassin, and Tom, with a contused eye and badly-bitten hand, sat on the leaves and reproached him.
“What yer mean by bitin’ my ’and?” he demanded, angrily.
“Well, what did you mean by comin’ be’ind me and thumpin’ me in the dark?”
“I never; I only just held yer.”
“What did you hold me for, then?”
“Why, I wanted to frighten yer, that’s all.”
“What did you do it for, then?”