“Nothing?”
“No, I—I just hit him!” Dan smiled.
“That wasn’t a very good thing to do, Gerald. We don’t go in for that sort of thing here at Yardley.”
“I don’t care. What right had he to say that? I did hit him and I’ll do it again if he talks that way about my father!”
“Well, you hit him. Then, I suppose he hit you?”
“No. He was going to, but some of the other fellows ran in and said we’d be seen. Then Thompson asked if I wanted to fight, and I said I did, and we went back of the little red building and—and—fought.”
“How long?”
“Just a minute. I couldn’t do anything, Dan. He knew how to fight and I didn’t.”
“Well, but your knuckles—”