“Enough,” mumbled the bully, all the fight taken out of him.
He slunk away, while the boys, who had crowded out into the hall at the sound of combat and had viewed with rapture the defeat of the bully, gathered about Bobby, who, except for a bruise on his forehead, showed no sign of the battle.
“Bully for you, Bobby!” crowed Mouser.
“Scubbity-yow!” howled Fred in delight. “That was a peach of a scrap.”
“He got all that was coming to him,” exulted Sparrow.
“Hicksley couldn’t lick a postage stamp!” exclaimed Skeets gleefully.
“He must have learned to fight by mail,” grinned Shiner.
“A mighty good job you made of it, Bobby,” commended Billy Bassett.
“I wasn’t looking for trouble,” explained Bobby, “but when he butted into me and knocked me down the stairs, I couldn’t help pitching into him.”
For the rest of that day and evening little else was thought of or spoken of but the “trimming” that Bobby had given to the bully. But apart from the satisfaction of having Hicksley get what he so richly deserved, a still greater joy was in the hearts of all.