Smoky launched a vicious kick at the Pony Rider Boy. Tad dodged it, and ere Smoky could recover his balance Butler had planted a blow on the man's nose that literally turned that member upward. A second swift blow landed on the same tender spot.
With a wild howl of pain, Griffin began beating the air with his fists, striking; blindly and wildly. This was exactly what Tad wanted. His antagonist had wholly lost control of himself. His was a blind, murderous rage. Butler was playing with him like a cat with a mouse. Now and then the Pony Rider Boy would send in a punch, ever aiming for the damaged nose of Smoky Griffin, and Smoky was spinning about so frequently that he had grown dizzy. He was bellowing like an angry bull, but every time he opened his mouth to bellow, Tad's hard fist smote him on the nose.
Now the Pony Rider Boy got in closer and began beating a tattoo on the bully's face. It was eyes, nose and mouth, now, that got the blows. Tad was showing no preference. It was plain to the other boys that Butler was determined to teach a lesson that Smoky would not soon forget. Tad's face now wore a set grin. He did not appear to be in the least ruffled, but the grin looked as if it had grown on his face and had been there for years.
"Put him out, why don't you?" jeered Chunky.
"Smoky, have you had enough?" asked Tad, stepping back a few paces.
For a brief instant the bully glared through his bloodshot eyes, as if scarcely able to believe his senses. That a slender lad, such as the one before him, should possess so much skill and such a punch—it seemed to Smoky like the kick of a mule—passed all comprehension. But the longer he gazed the more sure was Griffin that he had but to stretch out his hand and crush Tad Butler.
Smoky tried it then and there. As a reward he got three blows, on as many different parts of his face, that sent him staggering backwards.
Tad now saw that he must fight to a finish. Smoky never would give up as long as he were able to lift a hand. For that the Pony Rider Boy admired him.
From that moment on it was a one-sided battle. Griffin's resistance was without effect, though had he been able to get a grip on his slender antagonist it would have ended the fight. Tad swung the blows in so fast that his companions were unable to count them, and at last the bully, Smoky Griffin, sank groveling in the dirt, blubbering and crying like a child who has been thoroughly spanked.
For the moment Tad Butler felt sorry for the fellow, sorry that he himself had been responsible for such a spectacle.