"It will be yours if you don't shut up!" answered Dick, so sharply that Larkspur shrunk back in alarm.
"I didn't bite him!" grumbled Koswell.
"He did—right here!" answered Tom positively. "Look!"
He pulled up his sleeve and showed his wrist. There in the flesh were the indentations of a set of teeth.
"You coward!" said Sam. "You ought to be drummed out of Brill!"
"That's worse than using a sandbag," added Dick.
"I—I didn't do it," muttered Koswell. He looked around as if he wanted to slink out of sight.
"You did!" cried Tom. "And take that for it!" And before the brute of a youth could ward off the blow he received Tom's fist in his right eye. Then he got one in the other eye and another in the nose that made the blood spurt freely. He tried to defend himself, but Tom was "fighting mad," and his blows came so rapidly that Koswell was knocked around like a tenpin and sent bumping, first into Flockley, then into Larkspur, and then into some bushes, where he lay, panting for breath.
"Now have you had enough?" demanded Tom, while the crowd marveled at his quickness and staying powers.
"I—I—" stammered Koswell.