He still held the whip in one hand. Rushing up, Bob wrenched it from his grasp.
“Turn about is fair play,” cried Bob. “How do you like that?”
He hauled off and swish! the lash swept across Carrow’s face, leaving a deep red stripe behind.
“Ough!” shrieked the farmer, dancing around with pain. “I’ll have you arrested for that!”
“I am not afraid of you,” returned the youth, as coolly as he could. “I hope this teaches you a lesson.”
Carrow grew white with rage. That boy had dared to hit him with a whip, and in the face, too! It was shameful!
He looked around for some means of getting the best of Bob. Suddenly his eye caught sight of a pitchfork which lay in the back of the wagon. He made a dash, and secured the pitchfork. Then, handling it as if it were a bayonet, he rushed upon the youth.
CHAPTER VI
BOB LEARNS SOMETHING
As a matter of course, Bob retreated. He had no desire to be punctured with the points of the pitchfork—those tines looked altogether too ugly.
Joel Carrow rushed after Bob, making several lunges, whenever he thought he saw a chance of reaching the youth.