That ill-advised anger before the start was surely telling on him now.

Dick still kept forward, gaining a yard or so every few minutes.
"Keep back! Don't you dare touch me, you mucker!" hissed Fred sharply over his shoulder.
"Mucker ?" retorted Prescott.

"I'll pay you for that!" At a bound he covered the distance, throwing first one arm, then the other, fairly around Ripley.

Fred fought furiously to break the clasp, but was so winded that he couldn't.
"Let go of me! Your touch soils!" he cried, hoarsely.
But Dick still kept his hold, counting: "-- -twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen!" "Fair capture!" rumbled Ben Badger.
The other hounds, or their leaders, were stripping by now.

Dick, at the judge's words, loosed his hold on Fred.
"You cur!" snarled Fred.