Sam's departure from school deprived him of the full opportunity he formerly enjoyed of indulging himself in his favourite sport.

On this account he took the more eager advantage of any opportunity that offered still to gratify his taste in this direction.
Sauntering sullenly homeward from his interview with the boss and with his temper rasped to a raw edge by his father's wrathful comments upon his "dommed waggin' tongue," he welcomed with quite unusual eagerness the opportunity for indulging himself in his pastime of baiting Humpy Wicksy whom he overtook on his way home from school during the noon intermission.
"Hello, Humpy," he roared at the lad.
Like a frightened rabbit Steve scurried down a lane, Sam whooping after him.
"Come back, you little beast.

Do you hear me?
I'll learn you to come when you're called," he shouted, catching the terrified lad and heaving him aloft in his usual double-handed grip.
"Let me down, you! Leave me alone now," shrieked the boy, squirming, scratching, biting like an infuriated cat.
"Bite, would you ?" said Sam, flinging the boy down.

"Now then," catching him by the legs and turning him over on his stomach, "we'll make a wheelbarrow of you.

Gee up, Buck! Want a ride, boys ?" he shouted to his admiring gallery of toadies.