rk, "the sight is ruined. But is the eye going to
look very bad? Will he show it much?"

"Ah, Mark!" said Chester, rather harshly, for a fresh suspicion had
entered his mind; "that hurt can never be covered up. You can't trade
him off for a sound horse, if you try."

Mark turned upon him, with a fierce oath.

"An't it enough for me to know it, without having it flung in my teeth?"
he demanded.

"You deserve it all," retorted Chester, kindling.

"I do?" muttered Mark, with clenched fists.

"Oh, I am not afraid of you," said Chester, turning slightly pale, but
not from fear.

His lips were firmly compressed, and he fixed his fine dark eyes upon
the jockey, with a look of defiance.

"Boys, boys!" exclaimed Mr. Royden, impatiently, "what is all this
about? Chester, leave the yard!"

"If you say so, I will go."

"I say so, if you can't stay and be on good terms with your neighbor."

"I only tell him calmly what I think," said Chester, with a resolute
air.

"And if older persons had not been present," cried Mark, with another
oath, "I should have flung you over the fence, like a puppy,--as you
are!"

"Be calm, my son! bridle your tongue," said the clergyman, gently, to
Chester.

But the young man's pride was touched and his wrath enkindled. He did
not pause to consider the consequences of a rash word.

"I should really have liked to see you try that game!" he replied, with
cutting sarcasm in his tones.

The jockey uttered a stifled growl, like an enraged bull-dog, and,
flinging the halter over the colt's neck, aimed a blow with his fist at
Chester's head. But the latter was not unprepared. Avoiding the attack,
he skillfully took advantage of Mark's impetuosity, grappled with him,
and flung him almost instantly to the ground.

The jockey came down with a tremendous jar, Chester falling upon him. In
a moment the latter was upon his feet; when his father, alarmed and
highly displeased, seized him by the collar.

"Let go!" muttered Chester, in an excited manner, but not
disrespectfully.

"What are you going to do, you foolhardy boy?"

"Nothing; unless I am compelled to. You will let me defend myself, I
hope? I don't want to hurt Mark Wheeler; but then Mark Wheeler must keep
off."

Meanwhile Mark Wheeler had regained his feet, mad from the fall. His
red-burning eyes were like a wild beast's. Father Brighthopes took his
arm with a mild and soothing word; but he shook him off, fiercely.

The jockey was