“I had as much right as you and Luke have to use iceballs,” retorted our hero.
“I—I’ll fix you for that!” threatened Hiram, boiling over with wrath, as he scrambled up the inner walls of the fort and stood before Joe. “I’ll knock you into the middle of next week! I’ll teach you how to behave. I’m going to lick you good,” and he drew back his fist, and aimed a mighty blow at our hero.
[CHAPTER IV]
JOE LEARNS SOMETHING
Joe Matson had been in fights before. Some had been forced upon him, and he accepted the challenges for sufficient reasons, and had given a good account of himself in the battles. Other fistic encounters had been of his own seeking and for excellent reasons he had generally come out ahead.
The prospective fight with the bully was very sudden. Joe had seen what he considered a mean trick on Hiram’s part and had thrown on the impulse of the moment. He rather regretted his hasty action, but it was too late for regrets now, and he was willing to accept the outcome.
“I’m going to make you wish you’d never come to Excelsior Hall!” cried Hiram, and with that he expected the blow which he had aimed at Joe to land on the countenance of our hero.
But, like the celebrated flea of history, who, as the Dutchman said, “ven you put your finger on him, dot flea he aind’t dere!” so it was with Joe. He cleverly ducked, and then waited for what would happen next.