CHAPTER VII
Suspicion
The bright moon made the scene almost as light as day. Teddy could see the man’s small, close-set eyes and his thin-lipped mouth as The Pup thrust his face forward belligerently.
“You’re awfully sure about that, aren’t you?” the boy said in a low voice. Perhaps another youth might disclaim such a quarrel as this, which seemed purposely thrust upon him. Teddy had no reason to seek a fight with Marino, nor even meet him half way. It would have been better, perhaps, had the boy at this moment turned on his heel and walked away. But Teddy was himself, and no one else. The memory of Gus’s betrayal rankled within him.
The Pup moved his shoulders slightly, dropping the right one lower than the left. Teddy settled himself firmly.
“Think yore some baby, don’t you?” the man flashed, and Teddy could see a dark flush mount to his face. “You an’ that brother of yours! Pah! Yuh make me sick!” and he spat energetically.
Teddy clenched his fists, but held his peace. He would not let himself be talked into starting hostilities. If Marino wanted to fight—well, there were two sides to the story.
Of a sudden The Pup changed his tone. His voice took on a whining, ingratiating note.
“What are you two always pickin’ on me for?” he demanded. “I didn’t do nothin’ to yuh. A feller can’t—”
Teddy saw the man’s hand leap to his belt. Like a bundle of coiled springs the boy leaped forward. His open hand found The Pup’s wrist and closed upon it, holding it in a firm grip. The other hand pressed back the man’s chin—pressed it back until Marino was staring with glassy eyes up into starry night.
“Drop it!” Teddy gasped, and a knife flashed to the ground. Teddy kicked it to one side, felt about the man’s shirt to see that no more weapons were concealed, and stepped back.