"Maybe I am," said Dick. "I hope I haven't hurt yours."
Micky's answer to this was another attack, as violent and impetuous
as the first. But his fury was in the way. He struck wildly, not
measuring his blows, and Dick had no difficulty in turning aside, so
that his antagonist's blow fell upon the empty air, and his momentum
was such that he nearly fell forward headlong. Dick might readily
have taken advantage of his unsteadiness, and knocked him down; but
he was not vindictive, and chose to act on the defensive, except
when he could not avoid it.
Recovering himself, Micky saw that Dick was a more formidable
antagonist than he had supposed, and was meditating another assault,
better planned, which by its impetuosity might bear our hero to the
ground. But there was an unlooked-for interference.
"Look out for the 'copp,'" said Jim, in a low voice.
Micky turned round and saw a tall policeman heading towards him, and
thought it might be prudent to suspend hostilities. He accordingly
picked up his black-box, and, hitching up his pants, walked off,
attended by Limpy Jim.
"What's that chap been doing?" asked the policeman of Dick.
"He was amoosin' himself by pitchin' into me," replied Dick.
"What for?"
"He didn't like it 'cause I patronized a different tailor from him."
"Well, it seems to me you _are_ dressed pretty smart for a
boot-black," said the policeman.
"I wish I wasn't a boot-black," said Dick.
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