ne of these
days you'll melt, 'r git streaked."

"Mm! Perhaps I'm too clean." Those coffee-colored eyes were cool. With
one swift up and down they examined Big Tom's apparel.

The longshoreman squirmed under the scrutiny. "Y' don't look like y've
ever done a lick of honest work in your whole life!" he declared hotly.
"Y' look like your pink face was made o' dough, and the balance of y'
out o' putty! Y' look as if the calf'd licked y'!"

Again that amused, bored smile. "No," said Mr. Perkins, "that hasn't
happened yet."

"No? Well, y' never can tell. Y' _might_ git licked by somethin'
_besides_ a calf."

Another of those pauses which seemed so terribly long to Johnnie, and so
fraught with direful possibilities. Then, "I might," agreed the
scoutmaster, carelessly; "but again I--might not."

Now Barber showed that he did not possess the self-control that
distinguished the younger man. His heavy, hair-rimmed mouth working as
if with unspoken words, he rose, pocketed the pipe, and took a long step
toward the table, upon which he planted both his huge hands. As he
leaned there, it was plain that he longed for trouble. "I might not!" he
mocked, disgusted. "Sure, y' might! For the reason that you ain't the
kind that's got a wallop in your fist!"

Mr. Perkins got up, too. But only as if it were the well-bred thing to
do. The bronze of his face was considerably darker than usual; and his
eyes were black, and shone like great beads. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as
amused as ever. "Now I think I know what it is that you respect most in
men. Brute force. Am I right? Muscle! The power to give a hard blow."

"Dead right!" answered Barber, striking the table with his open hand.
"I hate a mollycoddle! a cutie! a reg'lar _pill_!"

Mr. Perkins nodded in the friendliest way. "So do I," he declared
heartily. "And that's just why I want to train Johnnie's muscles, and
teach him how to use his hands."

Big Tom straightened and went round the table. "I'll train Johnnie's
muscles," he said; "and I'll teach him what t' do with his hands, too.
And you keep your nose out of it. Understand?" Then deliberately
reaching out, with one finger he gave Mr. Perkins a poke in the chest.

That chest swelled under the neatly buttoned light coat. Yet Mr. Perkins
continued to smile. But he did not move back by so much as an inch. And
presently, with a low "Bah!" of anger and disgust, the longshoreman
loafed away. "All right," he drawled, in a tone of dismi