"You little snipe!" he roared, "I'll kill you for that."
But as he got near Kit dodged into the space between the seats, and as
the fellow rushed past, carried on by the momentum of his run, Kit swung
at him with his right fist.
It caught the fellow back of the ear, and the force behind the blow, as
well as the rate at which he had been coming, sent him headlong between
two seats, where he lay crumpled up like a rag.
The commotion had attracted the attention of Bud and Ben, and they were
by Kit's side in a moment.
"Need any help?" asked Bud.
"Not a bit," replied Kit. "I'm not very large, but no man of that sort
can call me a pup."
The fellow lay where he fell, and Bud warned away several passengers who
wanted to go to his assistance.
"He's all right," he said. "A crack like that never injured any one
permanently, but sometimes it wakes them up ter ther foolishness of
insulting a lady when ther broncho boys are around."
Kit lifted his hat to the young lady.
"Pardon me for making a disturbance," he said.
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