"You're too old to fight a boy of that size, anyway," declared Stanley,
surveying Tim with disgust.
"But I'm going to punch him," announced Bobby heatedly.
"Oh, you are?" said Reeves with interest. "Go ahead, then, and I'll
sit here and keep an eye on this chicken to see that he doesn't pitch
in at the wrong moment"
Reeves took a firm hold on Charlie's coat collar and backed him off to
one side.
"Wash his face for him--it needs it," the high-school lad went on to
Bobby.
Like a small but angry bumble bee, Bobby flew at Tim. They clinched
and plunged head-long into the snow, where they pounded and wrestled
and grunted and gasped as all boys do when they are fighting a thing
out. Tim was not a fair fighter, nor a very brave one, and most of his
victories had been won over smaller boys or by using unfair methods.
Now with Stanley Reeves looking on, he did not dare cheat, and so Bobby
unexpectedly found himself, after perhaps five minutes of tussling,
sitting on Tim's chest, with Tim breathless and beaten.
"Wash his face," insisted Stanley, suddenly scooping up a handful of
snow and beginning to rub it thoroughly into Charlie's eyes and mouth.
CHAPTER XIII
THE TWINS HAVE A SECRET
Bobby seized a double handful of snow and began to give Tim the same
treatment.
"Quit!" yelled Tim in anguish. "Quit, I tell you, Bobby! Ow, now
you've cut my nose!"
A small twig in the snow had scratched poor Tim rather violently on his
small pug nose, but it was not cut.
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