CHAPTER XX
LAMB CHOPS FOR THE BABY
QUICK as the blow had been, the Iron Boy had not been caught unawares. He had been watching the eyes of the walking delegate, and he had read the man's purpose some seconds before the blow was struck.
Steve swerved his head an inch to one side, permitting the blow to shoot over his shoulder.
The lad leaped lightly back in order to have more room in which to swing his body, then drove his fist straight out from the shoulder. The fist landed squarely on the point of the walking delegate's jaw.
Cavard had been caught off his guard. He had not looked for such a sudden return, and the failure of his own blow to land had thrown him off his poise.
The walking delegate turned half way about under the force of the blow, wavered for a brief instant, then measured his length on the wooden sidewalk, flat on his face.
"I'm sorry I did that," muttered Steve, with a revulsion of feeling. "But I had to, or I should have been roughly handled."