Prescott, no more daunted than before. "Your nose is bleeding and your
lip is cut!"

"Yes, I know it! I'm going to take that out of you presently."

"Are you enjoying yourself, Dexter?" asked the boy tauntingly.

"Yes. And before I get through with you, I'm going to make sure that
you'll never interfere in my affairs again."

"Do you mean that you expect I'll stand off the next time that I see you
trying to frighten your wife into supporting a lazy loafer in style?"
Dick asked dryly.

"Hang you! You haven't learned your lesson yet, have you?"

"If you're trying to make me 'respect' you, Dexter, you've acted the
wrong way all through to-day. You're entitled to no more respect than an
Indian would show a rattlesnake."

Ab. Dexter's face was ablaze with wrath. He had expected to make this
Grammar School boy beg for mercy before things had gone half as far as
they had. Dick Prescott's undaunted pluck bewildered the mean bully.

"I'll make you shut up, boy, before I'm through with you!" he warned the
lad.

"There's just one way to do that, Dexter!"

"Eh?"

"You'll have to knock me out."

"I'll do that, then!"

It would be wrong to seek to give the reader an impression that young
Prescott was not afraid, and did not mind his two thrashings. He was
afraid that Dexter would go to great lengths, yet Dick would not give
the bully satisfaction by admitting any fear.

"What you've got to do, before I get through with you," Dexter
announced, "is to beg my pardon and to promise that you'll never again
interfere with me."

"You'll wait a long while, then," jeered Dick, "and you'll get strong
man's cramp in both arms!"

"And you've got to do more than promise that much," continued the bully.
"You've got to promise, solemnly, to help me in some plans that I have
for the future."

"Oh? Plans against your wife, I suppose."

"Very likely," half admitted Dexter. "Whatever the plans are, you're
going to help me in them."

"You're going about in a fine way, Dexter, to get my cheerful help."

"Never mind about the cheerful part of it," snarled the man. "You're
going to help me, and I'm going to tame you."

"Gracious! What a fine, large tail our cat is growing," laughed Dick,
though his voice did not ring very mirthfully.

Dexter, still astride his young captive, raised his fist. Prescott did
not flinch, and it suddenly struck the fellow that he was going about
his business in the wrong way. Dexter had never looked