"I don't say anything about it," answered Dick, by no means alarmed
at this hostile demonstration. "I know you've been to the Island
twice. P'r'aps 'twas to make a visit along of the Mayor and
Aldermen. Maybe you was a innocent victim of oppression. I aint a
goin' to say."
Micky's freckled face grew red with wrath, for Dick had only stated
the truth.
"Do you mean to insult me?" he demanded shaking the fist already
doubled up in Dick's face. "Maybe you want a lickin'?"
"I aint partic'larly anxious to get one," said Dick, coolly. "They
don't agree with my constitution which is nat'rally delicate. I'd
rather have a good dinner than a lickin' any time."
"You're afraid," sneered Micky. "Isn't he, Jim?"
"In course he is."
"P'r'aps I am," said Dick, composedly, "but it don't trouble
me much."
"Do you want to fight?" demanded Micky, encouraged by Dick's
quietness, fancying he was afraid to encounter him.
"No, I don't," said Dick. "I aint fond of fightin'. It's a very poor
amusement, and very bad for the complexion, 'specially for the eyes
and nose, which is apt to turn red, white, and blue."
Micky misunderstood Dick, and judged from the tenor of his speech
that he would be an easy victim. As he knew, Dick very seldom was
concerned in any street fight,--not from cowardice, as he imagined,
but because he had too much good sense to do so. Being quarrelsome,
like all bullies, and supposing that he was more than a match for
our hero, being about two inches taller, he could no longer resist
an inclination to assault him, and tried to plant a blow in Dick's
face which would have hurt him considerably if he had not drawn back
just in time.
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