to be a girl--a goose--a fox--anything
but a boy!

Then he crept back to bed, covered up his head and began to cry. For he
was afraid that Betty would be hurt--and once again had he hung back
when he should have gone forward. And his heart told him that again he
had been a coward.

Down by the willows John Brown was waiting. He had very much enjoyed
issuing his "challenge" but he felt morally certain that it would not be
accepted. He was therefore surprised when he saw his small adversary
approaching him in the dusk.

Who shall say what fancies were running riot in his head! He was a
squire going to punish a rash youth for trying to thrust himself into
their family. He, his grandfather's grandson, was going to thrash a
foolish boy for taking his grandfather's name in vain!

Meanwhile his little foe came on, over the rough sun-burnt grass, over a
fallen tree through a small stretch of denser scrub, to the very shores
of the "coral island sea." And the baby-moon chose the moment of their
meeting to slip behind a cloud and leave the world in semi-darkness.

"Well done, Bruce!" said Brown coming forward and speaking in a hearty
tone; "I didn't believe you'd come--I didn't think you had a fight in
you."

"We Bruces fight till we die!" piped Betty, and bit her lip to still its
quivering.

Brown laughed. He detected the nervousness in his opponent's voice, and
had fully expected it. If he had found "Bruce" over-bold, he would have
been surprised indeed. As it was, the reply in some way pleased him.

"Well," he said, "you're not going to fight me. _I'm_ not in a fighting
mood; I'm going to _thrash_ you."

Betty caught her breath. It certainly entered into her mind to cry out
and run away, but she did nothing of the sort, she only clenched her
hands, and stood her ground--having as usual a sufficiency of courage
for the occasion.

The next minute Brown's great hand had grasped her coat collar, and she
felt herself swung round, stood down and swung round again. Then a sharp
swish lashed her once, twice, thrice.

Whereupon Betty began to fight on her own account, forgetting all the
advice Fred Jones had given her about "hitting out from the shoulder,"
etc. etc. She kicked Brown's legs with all the strength she could put
into her own. She pinched his wrists and his cheek, and lastly and to
his disgust she set her sharp little teeth into his hand.

He dropped her quickly, her hat rolled off, and down tumbled her short