, and take your medicine!"

For answer Penny sprang forward and landed a blow on Beaufort's shoulder
that almost upset him because of its unexpectedness. Beaufort grunted
angrily and swung back. But Penny was quick on his feet and handy with
his arms and the blow was blocked, and Beaufort's jab with his left fell
short. There was little space between the trees and the ledge, and what
there was was uneven and covered with leaves which made the footing
uncertain. It was long-distance sparring for a minute, during which time
the two boys, watching each other intently, stepped back and forth
across the little clearing, feinting and backing.

Beaufort looked to be fully eighteen and was heavily built, with wide
shoulders and hips and a deep chest. Clint, studying him, felt that one
of his blows from the shoulder, if it landed, would be more than enough
for poor Penny. Penny was of the same apparent age, but he was thin and
fragile looking beside the other. And yet he was certainly quicker of
movement and had an advantage in reach, and there was a certain careful
precision about Penny's movements that encouraged Clint. Dreer had moved
well away from the scene and was looking on with eager, excited face, a
cruel smile twisting his thin lips.

Suddenly Beaufort lunged forward with his right and then shot his second
under Penny's guard. The blow sent the latter staggering against a tree.
Fortunately, though, it had landed on his ribs, and after the first
instant of breathlessness, during which he managed to side-step further
punishment, he showed no damage. Again Beaufort feinted and swung, but
this time Penny sprang back out of the way. Then, before the other could
recover, he went into him, left, right and left again, and Beaufort gave
way. Only one blow took effect, but that reached the bigger boy's face
and brought a veritable howl of rage from him. Like a windmill, thick
arms swinging, he bored in to Penny. The latter retreated, guarding
well, but Beaufort's blows were heavy ones, the ground was slippery
with fallen leaves, and Penny, missing his footing, measured his length,
his head narrowly escaping collision with a tree as he fell. With a
grunt of triumph, Beaufort sprang toward him and aimed a blow. But
Clint, boiling with rage, dashed between.

"Let him up!" he cried.

"Get away!" growled Beaufort, leading at Clint. Clint swung his
shoulders aside and the blow passed harmlessly. Penny scrambled to
his feet.

"M