“You can’t make me a prisoner,” said the young book agent, and tried to back out with his bicycle.
“THEY OVERTURNED BOTH FRANK AND HIS WHEEL.”–[P. 163.]
“Can’t we, though?” came from the lad who had not yet spoken. “Don’t you try to run. If you do, you’ll get a taste of this.” And he brandished his club.
“We’re goin’ to give you a good lickin’!” came from the boy with the turned jacket.
“Oh, so it’s you!” ejaculated Frank, for he now placed the speaker as the stage-struck farm boy.
“You don’t know me,” said the boy in quick alarm.
“Yes, I do.”
“You don’t.”
“You’re the boy that wanted to become an actor.”