apparently was not expecting such a cowardly blow, and hence must have
been taken unawares. The consequence was that the blow landed on the
side of his head when he tried instinctively to duck. It sounded
horribly suggestive, and made Hugh's blood fairly boil as anger swept
over him in a wild wave.

Owen staggered and fell. Gamely, he attempted to scramble to his
knees, and before Nick could prevent him had even done this, trying to
strike back in return. The boy was furious because of having been
dealt such a foul blow; he would have leaped at the giant just then if
the necessity arose.

Nick was in his element. Scenes like this were so frequent in his life
that he fairly delighted in them, just as another boy less pugilistic
in his nature might glory in taking snap-shot pictures, catching fish,
or camping in the woods. Fighting and Nick Lang were synonymous terms,
it might almost be said.

Sweeping the threatening hand of Owen aside almost contemptuously, Nick
suddenly sent in another swift jolt, such as he knew so well how to
deliver, having taken a few lessons from some reformed prize fighter.
Poor Owen went down again in a pitiful heap. He did not have the
slightest chance against such a master in the art of delivering heavy
blows that could not be parried. As one of the boys who looked on with
staring eyes, too much afraid of the bully to interfere, was heard to
say, it was "like taking candy from the baby for Nick to strike that
boy, unacquainted with the art of self-defense."

This time the boy was really unable to do more than struggle to his
knees. There he knelt trying to recover his breath, and not yet wholly