tude and took a truculent step nearer the solitary camper.

The latter was short and slender. The larger man looked as though
he might have eaten him at a single mouthful; but the camper did not
flinch.

"You pain me," he said. "You induce within me a severe and highly
localized pain, and furthermore I don't like your whiskers."

With which apparently irrelevant remark he seized the matted beard of
the larger tramp and struck the fellow a quick, sharp blow in the face.
Instantly the fellow's companion was upon him; but the camper retained
his death grip upon the beard of the now yelling bully and continued to
rain blow after blow upon head and face.

Billy Byrne was an interested spectator. He enjoyed a good fight as he
enjoyed little else; but presently when the first tramp succeeded in
tangling his legs about the legs of his chastiser and dragging him to
the ground, and the second tramp seized a heavy stick and ran forward to
dash the man's brains out, Billy thought it time to interfere.

Stepping forward he called aloud as he came: "Cut it out, boes! You
can't pull off any rough stuff like that with this here sweet singer.
Can it! Can it!" as the second tramp raised his stick to strike the now
prostrate camper.

As he spoke Billy Byrne broke into a run, and as the stick fell he
reached the man's side and swung a blow to the tramp's jaw that sent
the fellow spinning backward to the river's brim, where he tottered
drunkenly for a moment and then plunged backward into the shallow water.

Then Billy seized the other attacker by the shoulder and dragged him to
his feet.

"Do you want some, too, you big stiff?" he inquired.

The man spluttered and tried to break away, striking at Billy as he did
so; but a sudden punch, such a punch as Billy Byrne had once handed the
surprised Harlem Hurricane, removed from the mind of the tramp the last
vestige of any thought he might have harbored to do the newcomer bodily
injury, and with it removed all else from the man's mind, temporarily.

As the fellow slumped, unconscious, to the ground, the camper rose to
his feet.

"Some wallop you have concealed in your sleeve, my friend," he said;
"place it there!" and he extended a slender, shapely hand.

Billy took it and shook it.

"It don't get under the ribs like those verses of yours, though, bo," he
returned.

"It seems to have insinuated itself beneath this guy's thick skull,"
replied the poetical one, "and it's a cinch