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Rh manded Mike Nolan, sticking out his dirty chin in a decidedly offensive manner.

"I am looking for trouble with no one," retorted the young electrician. "But you evidently are. In the future I want both of you to leave me alone."

"Oh. ho! hear me talk," cried the Irish boy, sarcastically. "I own the hull of Paterson, I do!"

"Maybe you want to fight?" queried Bob Jackson, as he came up closer, with his fists clinched.

"I do not wish to fight—but I can take my own part," replied Franklin sharply. "If you desire to—"

The young electrician had no time to finish. Muttering something under his breath Jackson shot out with his right fist, intending to strike Franklin between his eyes.

But the boy was on his guard. He stepped to one side. Bob Jackson's fist cut through empty space. An instant later the would-be bully came down on his hands and knees, laid low by a quick and sturdy twist of Franklin's left foot.

"Say—what—what do you mean by that?" stammered Jackson, as he essayed to rise.

"Next time don't you be so quick to strike at a person," returned Franklin.

"Say, what do you mean by knocking Bob down?" growled Mike Nolan, springing in. "Bob's my friend, and I don't allow no fellow to hit him, see?"