ause untoward circumstance compelled him to herd with a bunch of
brainless clowns. He, who had a definite aim in life, would not permit
that aim to be turned aside because various and sundry roughneck punchers
thought it was funny to go around yelping like a band of coyotes. Mary V,
too--he did not neglect to include Mary V. Indeed, much of his
determination to remain was born of his desire to crush that insolent
young woman with polite, pitying toleration.

Even when the boys trooped in and began to compose what they believed to
be rhymes, Johnny did not weaken. He turned his face to the wall and
ignored them. Poor simps, what more could you expect? They went so far as
to attempt some poetizing on the subject of Johnny's downfall in the
corral, but no one seemed able to eliminate the word bronk at the end
of the first line, "_Johnny tried to ride a bronk._" No one seemed able,
either, to find any rhyme but honk. They tried ker-plunk, and although
that seemed to answer the purpose fairly well, they were far from
satisfied.

So was Johnny, but he would not say a word to save their lives. In spite
of himself he heard a howl of glee when some genius among them declaimed
loudly: "_Johnny volluped into Job's Coffin, and Venus she most died
a-lawfin!_"

Johnny gave a grunt of contempt, and the genius, who happened to be Bud,
lifted his head off the pillow and stared at the black shadow where
Johnny lay curled up like a cat.

"What's the matter with that, Skyrider? Kain't I make up po'try if I want
to?"

"Sure. Help yourself--you poor fish. Vollup! _Hunh!_" The contempt was
even more pronounced than before.

"Well? What's the matter with that? You said it yourself. And look out
how you go peddlin' names around here. You think nobody knows anything
but you! You're the little boy that invented flyin'--got the idea from
yore own head, by thunder, when it swelled up like a balloon with
self-conceit! That there gas-head of yourn'll take yuh right up amongst
the clouds some day, and you won't need no flyin' machine, neither!
Skyrider--is--_right_!" Accidentally Johnny had touched Bud's self-esteem
in a tender spot. "And that's no kidding, either!" he clinched his
meaning. "Punch a hole in yore skelp, and I'll bet that big haid of yourn
would wizzle all up like them red balloons they sell at circuses! You--"

"_Hm-m-m!_ Just so it ain't all solid bone like yours," Johnny came back
at him with youth's full quota of scorn. "Kee