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HOW A RACE WAS WON
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"Then you'll fight."

"If you hit me, I shall defend myself."

"Hit you? If I sail into you, you'll think a cyclone struck you. If you know where you are wise, you'll apologize."

"On the contrary, Plum, I want to let you and all here know what I think of you. You are a bully, a braggart—and a coward!"

Dave's eyes were flashing dangerously, and as he gazed steadily at Plum, the latter backed away a step.

"You—you dare to talk to me like that?"

"Why not? Nobody ought to be afraid to tell the truth."

"Oh, don't stand gassing!" burst out Nat Poole. "Give it to him, Gus—give it to him good and hard."

"I will!" cried the bully, and making a quick leap, he delivered a blow straight for Dave's face.

Had the blow landed as intended, the country boy would undoubtedly have sustained a black eye. But Dave ducked slightly, and the bully's fist shot past his ear. Then Dave drew off and hit Plum a stinging blow on the chin.

"A fight! A fight!" was the rallying cry from all sides, and in a twinkling a crowd assembled to see the impromptu contest.