The bully's head rocked back, his
knees sagged under him, and he dropped limply to the ground. Panting,
Bob stood over him, waiting for Looker to get to his feet again, but
when after a few seconds the bully opened his eyes, there was no sign
of fight left in them.
"Get up, you big blowhard!" panted Bob. "I'm not through with
you yet."
But Buck Looker was through, abjectly and entirely through.
"Have a heart, Bob," he whined. "I don't want to fight any more.
My jaw feels as though it was broken."
"I hope it is!" said Bob. "You big bully! What do you mean by climbing
up on my barn and trying to wreck my aerial?"
"I won't ever try to monkey with it again, honest I won't!"
whined Buck.
"You'd better not," advised Bob grimly. "And when you see your
friends, tell them I'll do the same to them that I've done to you
if they come around here. They'd better keep off these premises
unless they're looking for trouble."
"I'll tell them to keep hands off," promised Buck, nursing his
injured jaw. "Will you promise not to hit me if I get up?"
"Yes, get up and get out of here," said Bob, disgustedly, and he
turned his back contemptuously on the bully and started for the house.
As he turned his back, Buck scrambled to his feet with a look of
malignant hatred on his face and looked about him, apparently in
search of some object he could use as a weapon.
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