"I won't argue with you, Bob," said Frank evenly. "I'll give you some advice——"
"Don't want none," flared up Bob.
"Then I'll give you two minutes to resume the tramp."
Frank took out his watch and held it in his hand, surveying his opponent with a pleasant smile. Bob Upton with scowling brows dug his shoes into the ground for sixty seconds, and then began to back away.
"It won't do," said Frank, stepping after him and seizing his arm firmly.
"Come, now, be a good fellow."
"You let me alone."
"I shan't."
There was a vigorous struggle. Bob was stoutly built, but he was no match for Frank. The latter laughed at his threatening struggles.
"Give me a chance to fix my shoe, will you?" growled Bob as he gave up the fight and Frank released him. Then he stood patiently awaiting his pleasure, while his companion fumbled at his feet.
Bob's back was to Frank, but the latter suspected no trick. Of a sudden, however, Bob whipped off both shoes, flinging them into the creek, his cap after them, stripped his coat from place and tossed it also into the water. Then he flopped flat to the ground.