The big fellow, however, seemed able to endure a lot of punishment.
"I didn't come out here to run a race!" Miller insisted, as he tried hard to corner the boy.
"Then stand still, and I won't hit you so hard!" mocked Prescott, as he struck the man again on the short ribs.
Then, of a sudden, Prescott hit the earth.

He had miscalculated, and Miller's left fist had landed on his nose.
With a hoarse laugh Miller started to follow up the advantage with a kick.
"Here! Come back! None of that!" shouted a citizen, throwing his arms around Miller's neck.

"Let the boy get to his feet.
Fight fair or---we'll lynch you when it's over!" But Dick was up, the blood flowing freely from his nose.

Yet he was hardly less cool as Miller was released and the two again faced each other.
"Finish him up, Miller, and we'll get back to pleasure!" laughed one of the drunkards in maudlin glee.
"The boy has no show.

This is an outrage!" protested an indignant citizen.