“Take off your coat,” repeated Joe, setting him the example.
As Fleming still hesitated, Joe reached over and slapped his face lightly.
“You seem to need a stimulant to get you going,” he taunted.
Even a rat will fight when cornered, and Fleming, with an exclamation of rage, threw off his coat and rushed furiously at Joe.
The latter met him with an uppercut that shook him from head to foot. Then he sailed into Fleming and gave him a most thorough thrashing. Nor did he let up until Fleming with a highly decorated face lay helpless in the road, sobbing with shame and rage and whining for mercy.
“I guess that’s enough for the present,” said Joe, who had not a mark on him, as he resumed his coat. “You’d better get into that car of yours and drive home before your eyes are entirely closed. And remember that this isn’t a circumstance to what you’ll get if you ever dare to speak to Miss Varley again.”
He turned his back upon the discomfited cad, and, jumping into the runabout, drove around the curve where he rejoined Mabel and Jim.
“Did you impress those things on his memory?” asked Jim with a grin.
“I don’t think he’ll forget them in a hurry,” Joe laughed, though rather grimly. “And this time, luckily, there was no policeman handy.”