of the tough wards of
the little city. Tip's ultimate idea was to "get a city job," at good
pay, and do little or nothing for the pay.

But Tip dreaded a civil service examination--knew, in fact, that he
could not pass one. In most American cities, to-day, an honorably
discharged enlisted man from the Army or Navy is allowed to take an
appointment to a city position without civil service examination, or
else to do so on a lower marking than would be accepted from any other
candidate for a city job.

So, curiously enough, Tip had decided to serve in the United States
Army. One term would be enough to serve his purpose.

Tip, too, had kept his resolve a secret--even from his mother.

As Hal and Noll, Jud and Tom strolled along they came up with Tip
Branders.

"So this is you, you little freshy!" growled Tip, halting suddenly, and
close to Jud. "Now I'll give ye the thrashing I promised yesterday."

His big fist shot out, making a grab for young Jeffers.

But Hal Overton caught the wrist of that hand, and shoved it back.

"That doesn't look exactly manly in you, Branders," remarked Hal
quietly.

"Oh, it doesn't, hey?" roared Tip. "What have you got to say about it?"

"Nothing in particular," admitted Hal pleasantly. "Nothing, except that
I'd rather see you tackle some one nearer your own size."

"Would, hey?" roared Tip. "O. K!"

With that he swung suddenly, and so unexpectedly that the blow caught
Hal Overton unawares, sending him to the sidewalk.

"I believe I'll take a small hand in this," murmured Noll Terry,
starting to take off his coat.

But Hal was up in a twinkling.

"Leave this to me, please, Noll," he begged, and sailed in.

Tip Branders was waiting, with an ugly grin on his face. He was far
bigger than Hal, and stronger, too. Yet, for the first few moments, Tip
had all he could do to ward off Hal's swift, clever blows.

Then Tip swung around swiftly, taking the aggressive.

It seemed like a bad mistake, for now Hal suddenly drove in a blow that
landed on Brander's nose, drawing the blood.

"Now, I'll fix ye for that!" roared Tip, after backing off for an
instant.

Just as he was about to charge again the big bully felt a strong grip on
his collar, while a deep, firm voice warned him:

"Don't do anything of the sort, Branders, or I'll have to summon an
officer to take you in."

Tip wheeled, to find himself looking into the grizzled face of Chief of
Police Blake. Tip often bragged of