"We ought to lick him good and proper," growled the squint-eyed lad.

"Well, why don't you?" invited Tom.

He moved to one side, so as not to be hampered by his wheel. As he did
so he knocked from the handle bars the valise of tools. They fell with
a clatter and a thud to the pavement, and the satchel came open. It
was under a gas lamp, and the glitter of the long-handled wrenches and
other implements caught the eyes of Andy and his crony.

"Huh! If we fought you, maybe you'd use some of them on us," sneered
Andy, glad of an excuse not to fight.

Tom quickly picked up his valise, shutting it, but he was aware of the
close scrutiny of the two vindictive lads.

"I don't fight with such things," he said, somewhat annoyed, and he
hung the tools back on the handle bars.

"What you doing around the bank at this hour?" asked Sam, as if to
change the subject. "First thing you know the watchman will order you
to move on. He might think you were a suspicious character."

"The same to you," retorted Tom, "but I'm going to ride on now, unless
you want to have a further argument with me."

"You'd better be careful how you hang around a bank," added Andy. "The
police are on the lookout here. There's been some mysterious men seen
about."