“I’ll fix you for that,” Andy roared.
“Come along,” was Fred’s challenge, slipping off his coat, “but first take off your goggles. I’m going to lick you good and plenty, but I don’t want to blind you.”
Then followed a fight that Slim afterward described to a delighted group at the dormitory as a “peach of a scrap.”
Even a rat will fight if it is cornered, and Andy, having no way out, did his best. All the hate and venom he felt for Fred came to the surface, and he fought ferociously.
But he was no match, despite his size and strength, for the boy he had wronged. Fred was in splendid shape, thanks to his athletic training, and, besides, he was as quick as a cat. He easily evaded the bull-like rushes of Andy, and got in one clean-cut blow after another that shook the bully from head to foot. The thought of all he had suffered through Shank’s trickery gave an additional sting to the blows he showered on him, and it was not long before Andy lay on the ground, sullen and vanquished.
“Have you had enough?” asked Fred.
“Enough,” mumbled Andy, through his bruised lips.
They left him there, humbled but furious, and went on their way to the Hall.
“Fred, you went round him like a cooper round a barrel!” said Bill Garwood admiringly.
“He had it coming to him,” answered Fred. “If ever a fellow needed it, he did.”