Aspinall obeyed, and next moment was writhing under the “scrunch” which the president in his humour bestowed upon it.
“Now make a bow,” demanded that gentleman when the greeting was over.
Aspinall made obeisance, amid loud derisive cheers, and was called upon to repeat the performance several times.
“Now shake hands again.”
The boy tried to escape, but his arm was roughly seized, and his hand once more captured in the ruthless grip of his host.
In vain he tried to get free. The more he struggled the tighter the grip became, till at last he fairly fell on his knees, and howled for pain.
Then Dick, who had gradually been boiling over, could stand it no longer.
“Let his hand go!” he shouted, stepping up to the president, and emphasising his demand with a slight push.
You might have knocked the Den down with a feather! They stared at one another, and then at Dick, and then at one another again, until their eyes ached.
Then Culver, utterly oblivious of his tight sleeves, or his dignified position, turned red in the face and said—