“Let me go!” he panted. “Don’t you dare touch me!”
“Touch you? Well, I guess that’s cool. As if you didn’t belong to me!”
“I don’t belong to you. You haven’t the first claim on me.”
“We’ll see about that. Didn’t I take you out of the street and feed and clothe you, and——”
“Made me work like a horse to pay for it,” finished the boy. “You have got more out of me than I ever cost you, ten times over, so there!”
“You’ll come along with me—willingly or unwillingly,” growled Porler. “Give me your hand.”
He tried to catch hold of Mart. He snatched his arm away.
Filled with rage, he struck the lad a cruel blow full in the face.
It staggered Mart, and he nearly went to the ground.
Then he picked Mart up and put him over his shoulder.