s,
and still whirling his arms like the fans of a windmill.

Changing his steps like a dancer, the scoutmaster fell back. But now he
was at a disadvantage, for his face was toward those windows, and the
light was in his eyes. As he flitted and shied, tiring Barber and
shortening the big man's wind, he watched his chance to bolt under and
by as before. Foot on foot the space between him and the rear wall of
the room lessened. He sprang, now right, now left, on the alert for his
opening. It came. He shot forward----

A staggering clout from a heavy hand hurled him against a side wall like
a battering-ram. The breath was driven out of his lungs. Dizzily he
plunged forward to his hands and knees among the debris on the floor.

"Ha-a-a-a-a!" It was a shout of triumph from the longshoreman.

But that wallop, hard as it was, had been delivered accidentally. And as
Barber, whose eyes were now swelling from the scoutmaster's initial
blows, scarcely knew where his opponent was, he failed to seize Mr.
Perkins, who was up like a cat, and on, and facing round.

"Now I'll git y'!" cried Barber. As he, in turn, faced about, he began
to kick out furiously, now with one foot, now with the other.

* * * * *

Each moment was passing in painful anxiety to the group in the Barber
flat. Mrs. Kukor made one of that group, having teetered in directly Big
Tom and Mr. Perkins were gone. Now her hat was off and her apron on;
with the latter she constantly fanned a face which, its color sped, was
a sickly shade of tan. All the while she murmured strange words under
her breath, only breaking out every now and then with an "Ach! poor poy!
Poor poy!" As she did not look at either Johnnie or One-Eye, it was
evident that she had Mr. Perkins in mind.

As for Father Pat, he complained about himself. "If I only had me
lungs!" he mourned. To and fro he walked, to and fro. "If only I could
do annything except talk! Dear! dear! dear! dear!"

The cowboy, blinder than ever, comforted himself with praising the
absent scoutmaster. "That young feller's O. K.," he asserted. "I can
tell it by the way he grabbed my paw. Yas, ma'am! I liked the way he
shook hands. He'll come out better'n me. Watch if I ain't right! I ain't
worryin'!"--this though the sweat of concern was even then dampening his
countenance!

Johnnie, listening and watching, curled himself farther and farther into
his quilt, and feebly groaned. He was seeing,