The instant he was freed from his wheel, and, without uttering the first word of warning, Dick let fly with both fists, in such sharp and quick succession that the dazed bully went over on his back, as if smitten by the hoof of a mule.
“I know you, Bob Budd!” said the younger youth, whose anger was at a high point, “and you have been threatening me a long time; now we’ll settle the business for good.”
“I aint Bob Budd, either,” replied that worthy, climbing to his feet. Then seeing the absurdity of the situation, he added, desperately:
“Yes, I am Bob Budd, and I have a big account to square with you.”
“This is the time,” said Dick, who, impatient at his slowness, started to assail him the moment he got on his feet.
“Hold on,” protested Bob, “can’t you wait till a fellow is up? Why don’t you fight fair?”
“I’m holding on,” returned Dick, edging round into the moonlight where he could observe every movement of his antagonist; “but I’m tired of waiting for you.”
“I’m coming; you needn’t worry.”
But the vigorous reception of the younger lad had taught the bully to be careful. While he was as confident as the other Piketon Ranger of his ability to “do him up,” he saw the need of going about it carefully. He threw out his arms in the most approved style, and, as Dick slowly retreated a few steps, followed under the belief that he was becoming timid and that the blows struck a moment before were of a chance nature.
But the younger now had the elder in the moonlight, where he could see every movement distinctly. He bounded at Bob again with such fierce quickness that the big fellow was once more prostrate ere he could strike or parry a blow.