The Grammar School Boys of Gridley Part 10

"Fire away, then."

"Prescott, you don't have much spending money, do you?"

"Not enough to worry the bank with."

"You'd like more?"

"Of course."

"I'm going to find it for you."

"You are--or do you mean that your wife is?"

Ab. Dexter winked. He had not looked for the youngster to be so keen.

"Prescott, take it from an older man. It doesn't make so much difference, in this world, where the money comes from, if a fellow only has it."

"I guess, from your actions, that's about the way you feel about it, Dexter," rejoined the boy.

"Don't you feel the same way?"

"No; I'd like to be worth a million dollars, Dexter, but I don't believe I ever shall be."

"Why not?"

"Because the opportunities for getting a million honestly are not very plentiful, and I wouldn't have a dollar--or a million--with a stain on it!"

"You simpleton!" sneered Dexter.

"There are a few of us left in the world," d.i.c.k retorted complacently.

"But you, Dexter, you wouldn't care whether it was money or slime, as long as you could spend it!"

"You're talking nonsense, boy," argued Dexter, restraining himself as best he could. "Now, see here, I'm sorry I thumped you. I've got a lot of use for a boy with as much sand and grit as you've shown. I can use you, and I can show you how to make a nice little lot of money by helping me in something that I have on hand. So come on. Get up and walk along with me while we talk it over."

Dexter rose, and d.i.c.k got to his feet as nimbly as he could. He ached, though, fortunately, he was not badly crippled by the pummeling that he had received.

"Come on, now, and let's take a little walk," urged the man persuasively.

But d.i.c.k Prescott glared back at the bully with all the contempt in the world in his look.

"Nothing doing in the way of walking together, Dexter," announced the boy.

"Why not?"

"Folks might see me with you."

"Suppose they did!"

"Then they'd imagine that I knew you. Dexter, a boy who hopes to grow up and become a useful citizen can't be too careful about the company he keeps."

"You confounded little imp! You're not tamed yet."

Dexter's foot struck against a stick lying on the ground. s.n.a.t.c.hing this weapon up and uttering a cry of rage, he sprang forward to fell the boy with the club.

CHAPTER V

FOOTBALL UNIFORMS IN SIGHT

Had d.i.c.k turned to run Ab. Dexter would have darted after him. The bully possessed much longer legs and prided himself on his speed.

To Dexter's amazement, however, d.i.c.k did not flinch or turn.

Perhaps there was not time enough. Again, perhaps young Prescott saw two other figures moving in the darkness.

At all events, the man suddenly felt the stick fly from his hand. Then, before he could regain his self-possession, two boyish figures crouched swiftly one on each side of him.

Dexter felt his knees gripped. In the same instant two boys rose suddenly, holding on, and the bully toppled over backward.

"Never hit a man when he's down," quoth the dry voice of Greg Holmes.

"But, if he isn't even any sort of a man, it doesn't matter!"

Thump! Greg brought his not very big fist down on Dexter's nose. It was an ugly blow, delivered before the bully could recover from his own amazement.

Dave Darrin, the other boy, did not even wait to speak. He began to rain down blows on the prostrate enemy.

"Here, stop that, Davey!" urged d.i.c.k, darting forward. "Don't hit the cur any more."

"But he was going to club you," argued Dave, hitting two more blows.

"Stop this, boys! Let up! I'll clear out," begged Ab. Dexter.

d.i.c.k, finding that neither of his chums was much inclined to stop the merited punishment, darted in and forcibly dragged Darrin off Dexter's prostrate form.

"Let me have him, for a minute or two yet," coaxed Greg Holmes. "You know, d.i.c.k, he was going to club you."

"I know it," rejoined young Prescott doggedly. "He did thrash me twice, and it hurt. I don't believe in soiling our hands on anything like this fellow, when it can be helped. Besides, we're too many."

Though Dave and Greg had now both been pulled off their prey, they hovered over Dexter, who seemed afraid to rise for fear it would lead to a renewed onslaught.

"Stand back, fellows," coaxed d.i.c.k, pushing them gently. "Dexter, I told you you'd be a b.o.o.by in any fight where you couldn't have it all your own way. I was right about it. Get up, now--and make your fly-away while I'm still able to hold these two bulldogs in leash. Hustle now!"

d.i.c.k emphasized his advice with a kick, but it was not a vicious one.

Ab. Dexter looked up in wonder. Then he rose, crouchingly, next made a sprinter's start and bolted.

"Humph! We can never get him now," uttered Dave Darrin disgustedly.