“Anyway,” said Maurie complacently, “I’ve taught him a lesson.”
A hard voice sounded at his shoulder. He turned to stare into the furious eyes of Carrigan. There was nothing bulky about the latter, but now, with his lean, almost ugly face white with anger and his gleaming eye, he seemed strangely dangerous.
CHAPTER VIII. THE THREE MUSKETEERS.
“Gordon,” he said, “you need a lesson yourself.”
Maurie stepped back.
“What’s eatin’ you?” he frowned.
“You hit him when he couldn’t hardly raise a hand,” snapped Carrigan.
There was no mistaking it. He meant fight. It shone in his eyes like hunger. It tensed his muscles till he seemed crouching to spring like some beast of prey.
“Please!” cried Jac, and stepped in between them.
“Shut up and sit down!” said Carrigan.