"Come on yourself, Radwin!" mocked Jack, backing against the wall of a house so that he could face either assailant at need.
"Drop that whip, and I will!" hissed Fred Radwin, stealthily manoeuvering about the boy, yet held back by a wholesome awe of that butt-end of the whip.
"No; I like this whip too well," chuckled young Benson. "You can't have it unless you take it from me. Want to try?"
"Come on, and get up, you dolt!" growled Radwin to the driver. "Do you think we have all night to settle with this boy?"
"I can't get up, I tell you. I'm no good," moaned the driver. "I don't know what I did to myself when I went down so hard."
"Hurry up!" insisted Radwin. "A crowd may come along at any moment."
"Let 'em," moaned the driver. "I can't stop it. I'll apologize."
At that very moment there came the sound of a shout further down the street. Other voices answered.
"There, you dolt!" cried Radwin, angrily. "Now, you've wasted our last chance. Here comes a mob!"
Backing off, Radwin grabbed up his useless comrade, forcing the driver to his feet.