“Gentleman!” scoffed Ned, “We’ve another name for fellows who practice your sort of trade.”
The clerk, alarmed at the sound of loud voices, came hastening up.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded.
“How much is the bill?” asked Ned.
“Sixty cents. You had——”
“Here’s a dollar. Never mind the change. Come, Herc, let’s get out of here, or I’ll feel tempted to give that fellow a lesson.”
Together the two Dreadnought Boys hastened from the drug store, but the eyes of Jules Charbonde followed them with a menacing glint.
He raised his hand to his face, where the red spot still showed angrily.
“I’ll make you sorry for this,” he snarled, in his turn leaving the shop.
Suddenly he wheeled sharply. A hand had been laid on his elbow.