"O, well, something," replied Richard, with assumed indifference.
But Richard had been very thoroughly educated in the science of self-defence by Bob Bleeker, who had served his time as a butcher's boy in New York city, and done duty there as a rough of the first water.
"Nevers knows all about it. He has had half a dozen pitched battles with fellows whom he bullied, and all of them got whipped. Nevers has been 'cock of the walk' for the last year, for no fellow dares say a word to him."
Richard said no more, but went directly to the place where the bully was standing. He walked up to him with a bold and defiant air.
"I am glad to meet you, Nevers," said he, with easy self-possession.
"Are you, my fighting chicken?" laughed Nevers.
"You called me a dough-head this morning," added Richard.
"I did; and to make sure that there is no mistake, I repeat it—You are a dough-head."
"Then take that for your impudence!" said Richard, as with a sudden movement he slapped the bully's face.
"A fight! A fight!" shouted the dozen boys who were gathered in that part of the grove.