etorted the Ground Hog standing sullenly on his guard,
and once more Big Boy went after him. They roughed it back and forth,
neither seeking to avoid the blows but swinging with all their might;
until at last the Ground Hog landed a mighty smash that knocked his
opponent to the ground. "Now lay there," he jeered, and, stepping over
to one side, he picked up a purse from the ground.

It was the same bulging purse that he had forgotten that morning in his
hurry to get over the hill, and as Bunker Hill gazed at it two things
which had misled him became suddenly very plain. The day before had been
the Fourth of July, when the miners had their contests in Globe, and
these two powerful men were a team of double-jackers who had won the
first prize between them. Then the Ground Hog had stolen the total
proceeds, which accounted for his show of great wealth; and Big Boy, on
the other hand, being left without a cent, had been compelled to beg for
his breakfast. A wave of righteous anger rose up in Old Bunk's breast at
the monstrous injustice of it all and, whipping out his pistol, he threw
down on the Ground Hog and ordered him to put up his hands.

"And now lay down that purse," he continued briefly, "before I shoot the
flat out of your eye."

The hobo complied, but before he could retreat the young miner raised
himself up.

"Say, you butt out of this!" he said to Bunker Hill, waggling his head
to shake off the blood. "I'll 'tend to this yap myself."

He turned his gory front to the Ground Hog, who came eagerly back to the
fray; and once more like snarling animals they heaved and slugged and
grunted, until once more poor Big Boy went down.

"I can whip him!" he panted rising up and clearing his eyes. "I could
clean him in a minute--only I'm starved."

He staggered and the heart of Bunker Hill smote him when he remembered
how he had denied the man food. Yet he bored in resolutely, though his
blows were weak, and the Ground Hog's pig eyes gleamed. He abated his
own blows, standing with arms relaxed and waiting; and when he saw the
opening he struck. It was aimed at the jaw, a last, smashing hay-maker,
such a blow as would stagger an ox; but as it came past his guard the
young Apollo ducked, and then suddenly he struck from the hip. His whole
body was behind it, a sharp uppercut that caught the hurtling Ground Hog
on the chin; and as his head went back his body lurched and followed and
he landed in a heap in the dirt.

"He