"Murder!" howled Young Slavin.
He did not use his doughty fists, for he could not. In blind rage and terror Ike was striking out with the brick.
He delivered several blows on Slavin's head and face that made Ralph shudder.
A final one sent the young pugilist reeling back against the clapboards of the house. He was blinded with blood and pain, and shouted for help in sniveling terror.
Slump kicked his feet free of the entangling horse-blankets, and darted away towards the railroad tracks.
Ralph turned in disgust from the scene. He faced Bemis, who, his curiosity awakened by the tumult, had come to the window.
"You are training with a nice crowd, Mr. Bemis," observed Ralph. "Better switch off and get back to the main tracks."
"Lots of show for me, isn't there?" growled Mort sullenly.
"Get a roundhouse clearance of clean flues and headlights, and try it," answered Ralph.
The allusions were technical ones that Bemis fully understood. But he only blinked his bleared eyes, and more savagely gritted his teeth on the cigarette he was smoking.
"It's too bad," ruminated Ralph, as he left the
