“It will be the worse for you if you don’t,” added Mouser.
“I’ll do just exactly what I want to do,” was the ugly reply, “and I’d like to see you Buttinskis stop me.”
“We’ll stop you quick enough,” said Bobby, “and the first thing we’re going to do is to make you change your seat.”
“Oh, you own the car, do you? I’ve paid my fare on this train and I’ll sit anywhere I want to. Any one would think you were president of the road to hear you talk.”
“We’ll do something besides talk in a minute,” Mouser came back at him.
“What’ll you do?” jeered the bully, though his voice now was getting unsteady as he saw that the boys were in earnest.
Fred leaned forward, snatched the fellow’s cap from his head and threw it in a seat some distance away.
“Follow your hat and you’ll find your seat,” he cried.
The fellow started forward in a rage, but just then the conductor came into the car. He came forward briskly.
“Here, none of this!” he exclaimed. “You boys mustn’t do any scrapping on this train. Get back in your seats now, all of you, and behave yourselves.”