"You mean my friend, Herc Taylor."
"I said 'cub!'"
"And I said friend!"
Ned returned the man's glare firmly.
"I see I shall have to give you a good lesson, too, one of these days!" hissed Kennell evilly.
Ned, fresh from the presence of the captain, proud of his promotion—for so he considered it, the twelve-inch turret being the "prize detail" of the ship—had no desire to get into a fistic argument. He knew the captain was a stickler for discipline, for all his kind heart, and that with one of the Dreadnought Boys already undergoing punishment, although unjustly, it would be the worst thing that could happen for him to become embroiled with Kennell.
He therefore regarded Kennell with a cold stare and said sharply:
"Let me pass, please. I am in a hurry and have no time to waste."
Kennell planted his bulky form squarely in the Dreadnought Boy's path.
"You'll pass when I get good and ready," he grated out. "It's time you boys learned a lesson or two, and I'm going to give it to you!"