could be the cause of the
fellow's anger. But while he wondered, he shot in a straight left, the
weight of his body behind the blow. The man went over backward and fell
in a crumpled heap. Jimmy and others of the gang were running toward
them.

Martin was thrilling all over. This was the old days with a vengeance,
with their dancing, and their fighting, and their fun. While he kept a
wary eye on his antagonist, he glanced at Lizzie. Usually the girls
screamed when the fellows got to scrapping, but she had not screamed. She
was looking on with bated breath, leaning slightly forward, so keen was
her interest, one hand pressed to her breast, her cheek flushed, and in
her eyes a great and amazed admiration.

The man had gained his feet and was struggling to escape the restraining
arms that were laid on him.

"She was waitin' for me to come back!" he was proclaiming to all and
sundry. "She was waitin' for me to come back, an' then that fresh guy
comes buttin' in. Let go o' me, I tell yeh. I'm goin' to fix 'm."

"What's eatin' yer?" Jimmy was demanding, as he helped hold the young
fellow back. "That guy's Mart Eden. He's nifty with his mits, lemme
tell you that, an' he'll eat you alive if you monkey with 'm."

"He can't steal her on me that way," the other interjected.

"He licked the Flyin' Dutchman, an' you know _him_," Jimmy went on
expostulating. "An' he did it in five rounds. You couldn't last a
minute against him. See?"

This information seemed to have a mollifying effect, and the irate young
man favored Martin with a measuring stare.

"He don't look it," he sneered; but the sneer was without passion.

"That's what the Flyin' Dutchman thought," Jimmy assured him. "Come on,
now, let's get outa this. There's lots of other girls. Come on."

The young fellow allowed himself to be led away toward the pavilion, and
the gang followed after him.

"Who is he?" Martin asked Lizzie. "And what's it all about, anyway?"

Already the zest of combat, which of old had been so keen and lasting,
had died down, and he discovered that he was self-analytical, too much so
to live, single heart and single hand, so primitive an existence.

Lizzie tossed her head.

"Oh, he's nobody," she said. "He's just ben keepin' company with me."

"I had to, you see," she explained after a pause. "I was gettin' pretty
lonesome. But I never forgot." Her voice sank lower, and she looked
straight before her. "I'd throw '