“Three hundred if you like,” replied her brother grandly. “It’s all the same to me.”
He stiffened up sternly against the post. Somewhere he had seen a picture of Ajax defying the lightning, and he hoped that he looked like that.
Betty poised herself to throw, but at the last moment her tender heart misgave her.
“I—I’m afraid I’ll hurt you,” she faltered.
“Aw, go ahead,” urged “Mouser” Pryde, one of the four lads who were leaving for school.
“Aim right at his head,” added “Pee Wee” Wise, another schoolmate who was to accompany Bobby and Fred to Rockledge.
“You can’t miss that red mop of his,” put in Scat heartlessly.
“N-no,” said Betty, dropping her hand to her side. “I guess I don’t want to.”
Fred scented an easy victory, but made a mistake by not being satisfied to let well enough alone.
“She knows she can’t hit me and she’s afraid to try,” he gibed.