“What of that?”

Bobby was particularly sensitive in regard to the charge of meanness.  His soul was a great deal bigger than his body, and he was always generous, even to his own injury, among his companions.  It was evident to him that Tom had no claim to any part of the reward; but he could not endure the thought even of being accused of meanness.

“I’ll tell you what I will do, if you think I ought to share with you.  I will leave it out to Squire Lee; and if he thinks you ought to have half, or any part of the money, I will give it to you.”

“No, you don’t; you want to get me into a scrape for hooking jack.  I see what you are up to.”

“I will state the case to him without telling him who the boys are.”

“No, you don’t!  You want to be mean about it.  Come, hand over half the money.”

“I will not,” replied Bobby, who, when it became a matter of compulsion, could stand his ground at any peril.

“How much have you got?”

“Thirty-five dollars.”

“By jolly!  And you mean to keep it all yourself?”

“I mean to give it to my mother.”

“No, you won’t!  If you are going to be mean about it, I’ll smash your head!”

This was a favorite expression with Tom Spicer, who was a noted bully among the boys of Riverdale.  The young ruffian now placed himself in front of Bobby, and shook his clinched fist in his face.

“Hand over.”

“No, I won’t.  You have no claim to any part at the money; at least, I think you have not.  If you have a mind to leave it out to Squire Lee, I will do what is right about it.”

“Not I; hand over, or I’ll smash your head!”

“Smash away,” replied Bobby, placing himself on the defensive.

“Do you think you can lick me?” asked Tom, not a little embarrassed by this exhibition of resolution on the part of his companion.

“I don’t think any thing about it; but you don’t bully me in that kind of style.”

“Won’t I?”

“No.”

But Tom did not immediately put his threat in execution, and Bobby would not be the aggressor; so he stepped one side to pass his assailant.  Tom took this as an evidence of the other’s desire to escape, and struck him a heavy blow on the side of the head The next instant the bully was floundering in the soft mud of a ditch; Bobby’s reply was more than Tom had bargained for, and while he was dragging himself out of the ditch, our hero ran down to the river, and got his fish pole and basket.

“You’ll catch it for that!” growled Tom.

“I’m all ready, whenever it suits your convenience,” replied Bobby.

“Just come out here and take it in fair fight,” continued Tom, who could not help bullying, even in the midst of his misfortune.

“No, I thank you; I don’t want to fight with any fellow.  I will not fight if I can help it.”

“What did you hit me for, then?”