“He can’t, though,” defends Speck.
“Speck says he can’t, either,” obligingly announces his backers.
“Well, he can, I bet you.”
“Bet you he can’t.”
“He’ll show him whether he can or not.”
“Huh! I’d just like to see him once!”
You find yourself hustled forward and set against Speck, who in like manner has been pressed to the front. Your hands hang limply by your side; so do Speck’s. You feel very tame and pale and artificial; not a whit mad; not a whit like fighting. The pugnacity is your seconds’.
“‘KNOCK THAT OFF, IF YOU DARE’”
Somebody laboriously balances a small block on Speck’s shoulder.