Nervous because he knew he was being watched, Dan tried a long shot from mid-floor, and missed the basket. Again Pat and his followers hooted.
“Look at ’im!” one of the tormentors yelled. “Why, even a girl could do better than that!”
Dan could not endure the taunt. He walked over to the window.
“Oh, yeah?” he demanded. “I suppose you’re so good you never miss!”
“Dead-eye Pat, that’s me name!” the older boy boasted. “Come on, guys, let’s show ’em!”
Boldly, he pushed open the window which swung on hinges. Before the Cubs could stop him, Pat shoved his muscular torso through the opening, and leaped down onto the gymnasium floor. Behind him, like so many spry grasshoppers, came three of his cronies. The boys ranged in age from 7 to 11 years, but all were gangling and over-sized.
“Hey, you!” Red Suell cried furiously. “Get out of here! You got no business coming in!”
“Yah, yah, yah!” mocked Pat. He gave Red a hard shove, deliberately tearing the basketball from his grasp.
“Come on, fellows!” he urged his gang. “Let’s show these babies how to play ball!”
He dribbled in beneath the basket. Without appearing to take aim, he carelessly hooked the ball up toward the netting. Neatly, it swished through.