‘Do yuh know what yuh done, yuh ignorant pup?’ rasped Spike. He yanked roughly on Rex’s arm.
Splat!
With no preliminary movement Rex uppercut Spike with his right fist, and Spike landed on his haunches. The knockout was so complete that after a moment, Spike sagged sideways and sprawled flat on his face.
Rex stepped back, rubbing his knuckles on his thigh.
‘Bat him over the head with a gun,’ advised Dave Morgan.
‘No, yuh don’t!’ snapped Dell Bowen. ‘Spike got what was comin’ to him. This poor fool ain’t got brains enough to fool us intentionally. He likely got scared and took to the window. And we didn’t have sense enough to leave somebody at the house to see that it wasn’t a trick.’
Spike rolled over and sat up. He was still hazy and Red Eller helped him to his feet.
‘Wh-what hit me?’ he asked weakly.
‘The loon-a-tick,’ grinned Red.
‘This?’ Spike pointed at Rex.