Not caring to have more to say to this crowd, Rob started to go on up the village, when young Hardy stepped in front of him, saying:
“You ain’t answered the old man’s question yet. Where’d you stop last night?”
“I do not know as that matters to you as long——”
“Mean to sass me, do you?” demanded Ralph Hardy, doubling up his fist and acting as if he meant to fight. Half a dozen other boys, evidently thinking there was going to be some “fun,” pressed forward closely upon his heels.
By this time Rob and his companions were surrounded, so it looked as if they would have trouble before they could get away.
“Punch him, Ralph; he’s nothing but a cooner!” called out the voice of the tow-headed youth from the rear.
None of the men offered to stop the boys, but they watched the proceedings with evident pleasure.
“I’m not meddling with you; let me go,” said Rob.
“You ain’t answered dad’s question. You can’t go till you have answered that, you New York hoodlum.”
Though the words and tone of the speaker nettled Rob, he did not like to begin a quarrel there, which he knew would likely work against him, whatever the immediate result, so he started to move away without paying further heed to the pugilistic young Hardy.