Dick wriggled, getting one hand free—and then he struck Dexter a stinging blow in the face.
"Confound you!" growled the other. "I see that I've got to tame you, you young hornet!"
"You put me down, or I'll sting worse than a hornet," threatened Dick angrily. "I'm not a doormat that you can wipe your feet on."
"We'll see about that!" muttered Dexter, halting suddenly and throwing Dick savagely to the ground. He followed this up by sitting on the Grammar School boy.
Whack! Whack! Dexter struck him so savagely, both blows in the face, that Prescott gasped.
"I've got a few hundred more of those in reserve if you want 'em—or need 'em," Dick's captor advised him grimly. He still sat on the boy, looking down at him in the darkness with evil satisfaction.
"It doesn't take one long to find your number, Dexter," observed the boy undauntedly. "Your specialty is frightening women and pounding boys who offend you."
"Well, a lot of you boys hammered me this noon, didn't you!"
"Yes; and I wish I had a couple of the fellows here now," retorted Dick with spirit. "We'd soon make a coward like you seem small. You'd be on your knees, begging, if I had a couple of my chums here to help me."
"Well, you haven't got 'em, and I'll do all the talking that amounts to anything. Dick Prescott, you're the worst and freshest boy in Gridley!"