"I don't mean to fight fair with such fellows as you are," replied Paul, looking with disgust at his prisoner. "I suppose you do, though, and that's the reason you pitched into me when my back was turned. You may call it fair to jump on a fellow's back and pull him down."
"But 't ain't fair for you to tie me afore we have done," groaned Tom. "That's mean, and Tom Topover never lets up on a feller that don't fight fair."
"Oh, then, you are Tom Topover, are you?" exclaimed Paul, looking over his victim from head to foot. "Why didn't you tell me who you were when I asked you?"
"I was afear'd you'd run away if I told you who I was," answered the bruiser, who was likely to be a bully to the end.
"I don't believe I should have run away," added Paul, with a smile on his face. "I don't run away from such carrion as you are."
"You haven't seen the end of this thing yet. I can lick you in fair fight any time," blustered Tom, as he began to regain his strength.
"Will you do it now if I let you loose?" demanded Paul sharply.
"I don't feel very well to-day," replied Tom, after some hesitation. "I ain't in fightin' trim nohow, and that's the reason I got the worst on't so fur."
"What did you pitch into me for if you are not in good condition?" demanded Paul, who was good-natured enough by this time to smile.
"I didn't think you was so much of a feller, and I had to do what I did to-day," muttered Tom.