for it.

The vanquished Hun got to his feet, one hand over an eye. He was
abundantly blemished and his nose bled. His sense of dignity had been
outraged and his head hurt.

"You get the hell and gone out of here!" shouted the Wilbur twin, quite
as if he did own the town.

"I must say! Cursing and swearing!" shrilled the Merle twin, but none
heeded him.

The repulsed enemy went slowly to the corner of the alley. Here he
turned to recover a moment of dignity.

"You just wait till I catch you out some day!" he roared back with
gestures meant to terrify. But this was his last flash. He went on his
way, one hand still to the blighted eye.

Now it developed that the two boys who had waited the Hun had profited
cunningly by the brawl. They had approached at its beginning--a fight
was anybody's to watch--they had applauded its dénouement with shrill
and hearty cries, and they now felicitated the victor.

"Aw, that old Tod McNeil thinks he can fight!" said one, and laughed in
harsh derision.

"I bet this kid could lick him any day in the week!" observed his
companion.