A white fist shot out with accurate aim, striking the bully squarely between the eyes. A shower of stars danced merrily about him, blood spurted from his nose, and the next thing he knew, he was stretched flat on the rocky ground, with a grim-faced Toady bending over him.
"Do you take it back?" a menacing voice was asking.
"You—you—" spluttered the angry victim, mopping his streaming nose with his coat sleeve.
"Or do you want some more?" The doubled-up fist drew perilously near the disfigured face in the gravel.
"That's it! Hit a fellow when he's down!" taunted the fallen bully, still unable to realize just what had happened.
"I shan't hit you while you're down," said Toady calmly but decisively. "I'll let you get onto your pins and then I'll knock them from under you again."
And Billiard, looking up into the determined face above him, knew that it was no idle threat. Toady was in deadly earnest, but still the older boy temporized. It would never do to give in to Toady. If he took such a step as that, his leadership was gone forever. "Aw, come off!" he began, in what he meant to be jocular tones. "Quit your fooling and let me up! I've swallowed a bucket of blood already!"
"Will you take it back, or shall I pummel the stuffing out of you?"
Billiard capitulated. "I take it back," he said sullenly, "but,"—as Toady removed his knees from his chest and allowed him to rise—"I'll get even with you for this."
"All right," responded the younger boy cheerfully. "But don't forget that you will get what's coming to you, too."