She deliberately made a face, not at the tree behind
which Penrod was lurking, but at the innocent and heart-wrung
Sam. "You needn't come limpin' after me, Sam Williams!" she said,
though Sam was approaching upon two perfectly sound legs. And
then she ran away at the top of her speed.
"Run, rigger, run!" Penrod began inexcusably. But Sam cut the
persecutions short at this point. Stung to fury, he charged upon
the sheltering tree in the Schofields' yard.
Ordinarily, at such a juncture, Penrod would have fled, keeping
his own temper and increasing the heat of his pursuer's by
back-flung jeers. But this was Wednesday, and he was in no mood
to run from Sam. He stepped away from the tree, awaiting the
onset.
"Well, what you goin' to do so much?" he said.
Sam did not pause to proffer the desired information. "'Tcha
got'ny SENSE!" was the total extent of his vocal preliminaries
before flinging himself headlong upon the taunter; and the two
boys went to the ground together. Embracing, they rolled, they
pommelled, they hammered, they kicked. Alas, this was a fight.
Pages:
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225