Green made no movement, and Nic drew closer and held out his hand again.
“Come on,” he said; “I’m sorry now; shake hands.”
But Green did not move. He sat there crouched together, till Tomlins went behind him.
“He’s asleep,” cried the little fellow. “I’ll give him a job like he gave me, and wake him up.”
Green spun round upon the bottom of his spine and faced his little tormentor, who started back with a cry of mock alarm.
“Here, hi, Nic!” he shouted. “Hold him back. He’s going to bite.”
Nic made a rush, not to protect Tomlins, but to seize him and drag him away.
“If you tease him again, I’ll kick you too,” he whispered. “Let him be; he’s beaten. You don’t want to hit him now he’s down.”
“Yes, I do,” said the boy, struggling to free himself. “I owe him a lot, and it isn’t safe to hit him when he’s not down. Oh, I say, don’t; you’re hurting me.”
“Serve you right. Come away.”