There was a murmur of surprise among the boys. They had come to see Tony used up, and all the using up proved to be from the other side. James was as much delighted as surprised. He could not repress clapping his hands and was quickly imitated by the boys.
Tony knows how to take care of himself,” he thought. “That’s why he took matters so coolly.”
Sam felt humiliated and maddened. He regretted now that he had undertaken a task which seemed every moment more formidable. What! was it possible that he, Sam Payson, the crack fighter of the village, was being ignominiously whipped, and that by a smaller boy? He felt that if he permitted this, his prestige would be forever gone, and with it the influence which he so much prized. He must make one desperate effort.
If I can only get hold of him,” he thought. “I can shake the life out of him.”
He tried to grasp Tony round the body intending to throw him; but our hero was too quick for him, and showered the blows upon him with such rapidity that, blinded and overwhelmed, Sam himself staggered and fell on his back.
Instead of following up the victory, Tony drew off and let his adversary rise. Sam renewed the attack so wildly that in two minutes he was again lying flat.
That’s enough, Sam! You’re whipped!” shouted the boys.
He got up sullenly, and, in a voice nearly choked with rage, said:
“I’ll be even with you yet, see if I don’t.”
“Hurrah for the stranger!” shouted the boys, enthusiastically, as they crowded around our hero.