He would have succeeded, too, had Prescott relied upon his strength alone.
But Dick employed both hands in getting a neck-hold that hurt.
"Now, quit your fooling," Prescott advised, "or I'll let out a whoop that will bring five more fellows here.

Do you know what they would do to you?
They'd just about lynch you---schoolboy fashion.

Do you know what a schoolboy lynching is ?" "No," sullenly answered the stranger, as he started to renew the struggle.
"You will know, soon, if you don't stop your stupid fooling," Dick told him.
"Hang you, kid.

Get off of me, and keep your hands away, or I'll hurt you more than you were ever hurt in your life, and I'll get away with it, too, before your friends come!" So lively did the struggle become that Dick was obliged to use his clenched fist against the side of the prowler's jaw.

That quieted the stranger for an instant.
Leaping lightly from his troublesome captive, Dick snatched up a heavy club of firewood that lay nearby.
"That's right," Dick agreed, swinging the club, as the other rose to a sitting posture.