“I may give you an opportunity before long to show if you mean that or not,” rejoined Hunt, but when Dale pressed him for some explanation, he refused to enlarge on the thinly-veiled threat.
Of this conversation, the lads, however, knew nothing, and were, therefore, considerably astonished when, as they descended a bank leading into the road to Hampton Inlet, a stoutly built lad, accompanied by three others of about his own age and build, stepped from behind a hedge, where they had evidently been lying in wait for the returning lads.
As the three figures stepped forward into the road, and blocked the path of the homing lads, Rob recognized them:
“Oh, it’s you, is it, Freeman Hunt?” he exclaimed.
“Yes, it’s me,” retorted the other belligerently, blocking the way, “I want to settle with you.”
“Settle with me—what for?” exclaimed the astonished Rob.
“For what you did in the locker room at the club the other day. You have made me the laughing-stock of the place. Take off your coat, for I’m going to give you the worst licking you ever had in your life.”
“Mercy me!” exclaimed Tubby, pretending to quake.
“Yes, and you’ll be laughing on the wrong side of your face before I get through with him,” grated Freeman Hunt. “I can lick Rob Blake the best day he ever walked.”
“Do you think so?” asked Rob calmly.