This kind of outburst on Riley’s part always brought a laugh from the school. But before the laugh had died down, Jack Dudley took the word, saying, in a dry and quizzical way:
“Don’t you try to claim kin with me that way, Riley. No use; I won’t stand it. I don’t belong to your family. I’m neither a fool nor a coward.”
“Hurrah!” shouted Bob Holliday, bringing down first one and then the other of his big feet on the floor. “It’s your put-in now, Riley.”
“Don’t be backward in coming forward, Will, as the Irish priest said to his people,” came from grave Harvey Collins, who here looked up from his book, thoroughly enjoying the bully’s discomfiture.
“That’s awfully good,” said Joanna Merwin, clasping her hands and giggling with delight.
King Pewee doubled up his fists and looked at Riley to see if he ought to try his sort of wit on Jack. If a frog, being pelted to death by cruel boys, should turn and pelt them again, they could not be more surprised than were Riley and King Pewee at Jack’s repartees.
“You’d better be careful what you say to Will Riley,” said Pewee. “I stand by him.”
But Jack’s blood was up now, and he was not to be scared.
“All the more shame to him,” said Jack. “Look at me, shaken all to pieces with the fever and ague on the Wildcat, and look at that great big, bony coward of a Riley. I’ve done him no harm, but he wants to abuse me, and he’s afraid of me. He daren’t touch me. He has to coax you to stand by him, to protect him from poor little me. He’s a great big——”
“Calf,” broke in Bob Holliday, with a laugh.