“Do you hear, Eben Megg? You hurt me. Let go, or I shall hit out.”
“You’ll do what?” cried the big fellow, mockingly, as he tightened his grasp to a painful extent, when spank! Aleck’s left fist flew out, striking the man full on the right cheek, not a heavy blow, but as hard as the boy could deliver, hampered as he was, being dragged close to his assailant’s breast.
“Why, you—” roared the man. He did not say what, but flung the arm he had at liberty round the boy’s waist and lifted him, kicking and struggling, from the ground, perfectly helpless, with the great muscular arm acting like a band of iron, to do more than try to deliver some ineffective blows, which his assailant easily avoided.
“Ah! Would you?” he growled, fiercely. “You’re a nice young game cock chick, you are. Hold still!” he roared, taking a step forward, to stand on the very edge of the shelf. “Keep that hand quiet, or I’ll hurl you down among the rocks. You’ll look worse then than you do now.”
“Do, if you dare,” cried the lad, defiantly.
“You tell me what I asked,” growled the man; “is what you said true?”
“I won’t tell you while you grip my wrist.”
“You’d better speak,” cried the man. “D’yer see, you’re like a feather to me. I could pitch you right out so as you’d go to the bottom yonder.”
“You could, but you daren’t?” cried Aleck, grinding his teeth and striving hard to bear the pain he suffered.
“Oh, I dare—I could if I liked! Nobody would see out here. It would kill yer, and nobody would know how it happened; but they’d say when they found you that you’d slipped and fell when you was egging. They would, wouldn’t they? That’s true, arn’t it?”