“It’s that man,” replied the girl. “I was walking along the road when he stopped his car and asked me for some directions. I gave them to him and then he wanted me to get into the car and take a ride with him. I had never seen him in my life before and I refused and started to run. He ran after me and caught my arm and tried to make me get in the car.”
“That’s enough,” said Phil briefly. “Dick, just look after this young lady for a moment.”
He went up to the man who had been standing in a defiant attitude beside his car, his cap drawn over his eyes. As Phil approached, the man looked up and Phil recognized “Rocks” Gurney.
“So you’re the cur that insulted this girl,” said Phil with cutting scorn.
Gurney flushed purple.
“What’s that you called me?” he cried in a fury. “Take it back or it will be the worse for you.”
For answer Phil’s fist shot out and caught Gurney full on the point of the jaw, and the latter measured his length in the dust of the road.
He was up again in a moment, spluttering with rage, and made a rush at Phil. The latter avoided the rush and met Gurney with a blow that jarred him to his heels. Then for a few minutes they went at it hammer and tongs.
Gurney was a trifle heavier than Phil and two years older. But he was dissipated and self-indulgent, and no match for the trained athlete he was up against. Phil went round him like a cooper round a barrel, avoiding his lunges and getting in his blows where they would do the most good. In a few minutes the fight was over, and Gurney lay in the road, half sobbing with shame and pain.
“I guess that’ll be about all,” remarked Phil. “Now Gurney, get into your car and drive wherever you like. Only get away quick.”