The larger of them brought the other down upon his face and made him admit that the match was over.
“I had you foul when I wound my leg about yours,” explained he. “You cannot expect to down a big fellow like me,” and the boy straightened himself with a chuckle.
The girl ceased her laughing and came forward.
“Well, I don’t care, George Benson; Tom’s as good as you are any day. That’s what he is.”
“Nobody said he wasn’t,” contemptuously replied the lad, “but he can’t fight.”
Tom was watching George out of the corner of his eye, trying to determine whether it would be well to go at it again, when the girl spoke:
“Never you mind, Tommy; you come with me, and I’ll ask papa for twenty-five cents, and then we will go to the candy store.”
The boy addressed as George Benson followed Tom and the girl.
“You needn’t be a tight-wad,” exclaimed he; “stingy, stingy, stingy.”
“She ain’t stingy, George,” snapped Tom, “and if you say she is stingy again, I’ll knuckle your pate.”