Before the hat could leave the hand of the bully, a boy dashed forward, snatched it from his grasp, and returned it to the sobbing owner.
“Buck Kennon, you are a mean coward! Why don’t you let him alone and take our hats?”
The boy who had the courage to do this was James Decker, two years younger than the bully and of much slighter frame. He was the best scholar in school and liked by playmates and teacher. Having handed the property of the cripple to him, he turned about and confronted the big lad, who stood a moment amazed at his daring. The face of Buck was crimson with anger and all saw that trouble was impending.
“What business is it of yours?” he demanded; “I’ll do as I please without asking you about it. I’ll teach you better than to interfere.”
He made a snatch at the young champion’s hat, but James dodged and in a twinkling snatched off that of his assailant. James was much more active than his bulky pursuer, and, dashing a few rods, suddenly stopped, flung the handsome hat in air, and then with the accuracy of a rifle-shot hurled a stone clean through it.
“There!” he said, “see how you like it yourself.” The other boys laughed in their delight, and the bully boiled with rage. He never had had the tables turned so completely upon him. It was exasperating beyond endurance. Like a mad bull, he rushed upon young Decker, his fists clenched and his eyes glaring. He meant to teach the audacious youngster a lesson that he would remember all his life.
James was through running away from his enemy. He might have dodged and eluded him, or sped down the highway and escaped him altogether, but the bully would take his revenge upon the cripple, for it was just like him. Besides, a fight for the supremacy, must come sooner or later, and it might as well come now.
So Decker braced himself for the shock, and, when the big fellow was upon him, he struck him twice quickly and with all his strength, directly in the face. The shock, made the greater by the momentum of his own body, sent Buck staggering backward and almost upon his back. The blow was a fierce one for a boy, and big as was the bully he could not help howling with pain. He stopped, put his hands to his face as if to assure himself that it was still on his shoulders, while Decker, cool and collected, with one foot thrust forward, his fists ready, his face pale and his eyes flashing, awaited the next onset.
“You are a coward!” he called; “if there was a boy here of your size, you would run like a rabbit, but I’m not afraid of you.”
The fury of the bully was greater, if possible, than before, but he had been taught a lesson. He now approached more warily, but with the resolve that he would hammer this audacious champion till he couldn’t stand.