“Cut it, Perry! Let the kid alone.”
“That’s right; no scrapping, Perry. He’s too small for you.”
“I—I’ll punch his pretty little face for him!” snarled Perry, striving to push by his friends.
“You touch me and I’ll show you something you won’t like,” said Harry, standing his ground.
“You shut up, kid, and run along home,” advised one of the crowd. “There’s going to be no scrapping to-day. So cut it out.”
The boy who had helped Harry to his feet laid a hand on his arm and pulled him away. “That’ll be about all, kid. Come along.”
“All right,” answered Harry, resisting for a moment. “But he can’t do that sort of thing and get away with it. I’ll get even with him before I’m through. And I’ll fight him whenever he likes.”
“You’d put up a grand little fight, wouldn’t you?” sneered Perry across the shoulder of one of his crowd. “Say, Fresh, you just keep away from me or you’ll get hurt, and hurt badly. Do you hear?”
“I hear you talk,” scoffed Harry. “That’s all bullies can do!”
Then his rescuer dragged him away just as a second group of boys came up demanding to know what the row was about. Harry accompanied his new friend for some distance in silence. Finally, moved to defense by the other’s unspoken censure, “Well,” he muttered, “you wouldn’t like it yourself, I guess.” His companion smiled. Then,