None of the four were more astounded than Wally himself at the audacity of this speech. It must have been due to the exhilarating effect of his tea and essay combined.
Dangle was evidently unprepared for defiance of this sort and became threatening.
“If you don’t give me that ball at once, I’ll give the lot of you the best hiding you ever had in your lives.”
“Try it. We’re not going to give up the ball. There! If Percy wants it, let him come for it. Back up, you chaps.”
In a tussle between one big boy and four small ones, the odds are usually in favour of the former, but Dangle on the present occasion did not find his task quite as easy as he expected. The juniors defended themselves with great tenacity, and although the senior’s blows came home pretty hard, he could only deal with them one at a time. It got to be a little humiliating to discover that he would have to fight hard to gain his end, and his temper evaporated rapidly.
Seizing his opportunity, when Fisher minor, who had been fighting perhaps the least steadily of the four—yet doggedly enough—was within reach, he struck out at him wildly, determined to get him disposed of first. It was a cruel blow even for a fellow in Dangle’s plight. The small boy recoiled half-stunned, and uttered a yell which for an instant startled the bully.
Before Dangle had time to recover, the three survivors were upon him tooth and nail; at the same moment the door opened again, and Rollitt, of all persons, stood in the room.
He took in the situation at a glance—the big boy white with rage, his three assailants with heads down and lips tight, pounding away, and Fisher minor leaning against the wall with his handkerchief to his face.
“Stop!” said he in a voice which suspended hostilities at once. Then turning to Dangle he said—
“Get out.”