"Wha--what do you mean, you wouldn't hurry?" he asked uneasily.
Amy hung his coat on a paling and placed his cap on top. Then he tugged his belt in another hole. And all the time he smiled quite pleasantly. Dreer moved backward toward the curb, but found Clint barring his way. His anxious gaze searched the road for help, but in each direction it was empty. He laughed nervously.
"What's the joke?" he asked.
"No joke at all, Dreer," replied Amy. "I gave you fair warning that the next time you ran down the school I'd beat you. If I were you, Dreer, I'd take off my coat."
"You dare touch me and it'll be mighty bad for you, Byrd! I'm not going to fight you, and you can't make me."
"Suit yourself about that," replied Amy, stepping toward him.
Dreer thought of flight, but it looked hopeless. Besides, a remnant of pride counselled him to bluster it out rather than run away. He laughed, not very successfully. "Two against one, eh? Wait till fellows hear about it! You won't dare show your faces, you two thugs!" Again his gaze travelled along the empty, sunlit road. "Anyway, I didn't say anything I didn't have a right to say. You asked me what I thought and I told you. You--you made me say it!"
"I did, Dreer!" Amy shook his head gently. "Think again. Surely, I didn't do that?"
"Well, he did," faltered Dreer. "And you put him up to it, I'll bet! Don't you touch me, Byrd!"
"Put your hands up!"