ry looked at Joe, the little smile still on his face. "I don't want
to fight Joe. What would I fight Joe for?" he said.

"I told you so," cried Mop, dancing about. "He ain't got no fight in
him.

Take a dare,
Take a dare,
Chase a cat,
And hunt a hare."

Ben looked critically at Larry as if appraising the quality of his soul.
"Joe can't lick you with one hand tied behind his back, can he, Larry?"

"I don't want to fight Joe," persisted Larry still smiling.

"Ya, ya," persisted Mop. "Here, Joe, you knock this chip off Larry's
shoulder." Mop placed the gauge of battle on Larry's shoulder. "Go
ahead, Joe."

To Joe a fight with a friend or a foe was an event of common occurrence.
With even a more dangerous opponent than Larry he would not have
hesitated. For to decline a fight was with Joe utterly despicable. So
placing himself in readiness for the blow that should have been the
inevitable consequence, he knocked the chip off Larry's shoulder. Still
Larry smiled at him.

"Aw, your man's no good. He won't fight," cried Mop with unspeakable
disgust. "I told you he wouldn't fight. Do you know why he won't fight?
His mother belongs to that people, them Quakers, that won't fight for
anything. He's a coward an' his mother's a coward before him."

The smile faded from Larry's lips. His face which had been pale flamed
a quick red, then as quickly became dead white. He turned from Joe and
looked at the boy who was tormenting him. Mop was at least four years
older, strongly and heavily built. For a moment Larry stood as though
estimating Mop's fighting qualities. Then apparently making up his mind
that on ordinary terms, owing to his lack in size and in strength, he
was quite unequal to his foe, he looked quickly about him and his
eye fell upon a stout and serviceable beechwood stake. With quiet
deliberation he seized the club and began walking slowly toward Mop, his
eyes glittering as if with madness, his face white as that of the dead.
So terrifying was his appearance that Mop began to back away. "Here you,
look out," he cried, "I will smash you." But Larry still moved steadily
upon him. His white face, his burning eyes, his steady advance was more
than Mop could endure. His courage broke. He turned and incontinently
fled. Whirling the stick over his head, Larry flung the club with all
his might after him. The club caught the fleeing Mop fairly between the
shoulders. At the same time his foot caugh