"Stand still, yo' li'l' Greaser!" laughed Sambo.
"Now you have insult me, and I show you what I do to you!" snarled Nicolas,
his brown face aflame at the taunting word, "Greaser."
"Come heah!" jeered Sambo, making a bound and reaching for the small man.
Nicolas dodged, but he did not run away. Instead, he bobbed up inside of
the negro's reach. The Mexican thrust out his slim, sinewy right-hand
forefinger. A vicious poke he gave with it, landing sharply on a spot
just about an inch and a quarter below the base of the negro's breast bone.
"Woof!" panted Sambo, half doubling, for Nicolas had touched a tender spot.
"You have insult me! You call me mean name!" raged Nicolas. "Stand steel,
you big black smoke!"
Again Nicolas ducked and rushed in. Once more he employed his forefinger
tip in the same fashion, and with more power.
"O-o-o-o-o-h! Wow!" gasped Sambo, this time doubling nearly to the ground.
"Get away, chile! I doan' wan' no mo' ob yo'!"
"You have insult," insisted Nicolas angrily, "and I do much more yet to
you."
This time the negro appeared almost helpless. Nicolas danced about,
looking for an opening. In desperation Sambo struck out with his powerful
left.
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