"What—what do you mean, you—you lubber?" demanded Needle angrily, rubbing the injured member, then shaking a fist under the red-headed boy's nose.
"You—you said it wouldn't hurt."
"Hurt nothing!"
"I should say it did hurt. What are you trying to do—drill a hole all the way through my foot? I don't want any hash marks. I'll get along with just my natural skin, whether I have any luck or not. Give me that shoe."
"Say, fellows," spoke up a jackie. "I reckon Red-head had better have a pig's foot, eh!"
"You bet he had," chorused the others.
"And he won't do it of his own free will."
"So he says."
"Then it seems to be our solemn duty to take the job into our own hands, does it not, mates?"
"It is."