ce vibrant with excitement.
"What are you trying to do, choke the lul-life out of a fellow that you
know isn't any match for you? If you want to ch-choke somebody, let
him alone and take me."

It was Phil Springer. His head jerked round toward his shoulder,
Rodney Grant looked into the eyes of his friend of a short time past,
and suddenly he released his hold on Rackliff, who, gasping and ready
to topple over, was supported by one of the other boys.

"If you want to choke somebody, take me!" repeated Phil savagely. "You
ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

Grant took a long breath. "That's right, Springer," he admitted, "I
reckon I ought. I allow I clean forgot myself."

Somehow this quiet admission, which was wholly unexpected, seemed to
enrage Phil still more.

"I suppose you think everybub-body around here is afraid of you now
that they've found out your father was a genuine bad man," Springer
sneered. "Well, you'll discover there's one person who isn't afraid.
I'll fight you."

To the amazement of all present, the boy from Texas shook his head,
something like a conciliatory smile appearing on his face.

"You won't fight _me_, Phil," he retorted, "for I won't fight."

Phil himself could not understand why this refusal simply added fuel to
the flame of his wrath. He felt himself a-quiver with the intensity of
his emotions, and, seeing Grant so calm and self-possessed, he was
obsessed by a yearning to strike him in the face.

"Oh, so you won't fight, eh? Why not?"

"We have been friends."

"We have been, but aren't any more, and we never will be again; for
I've found out just what sort of a fellow you are. You think yourself
a better pitcher than I am or ever can be, do you? Oh, I've heard what
you've been blowing around here about me, and you needn't deny it.
You've had some luck in one or two games, but you're due to get your
bumps. If you've got any fuf-further talk to make about me, come and
make it before my face. It's a sneak who goes round shooting off his
mouth behind another fellow's back--and that's what you are, Rod Grant!"

"Now there'll be something doing, sure!" breathed Chipper Cooper,
agitated by great expectations.

Still, to the increasing wonderment of the boys, Grant held himself in
hand.

"I couldn't take that off you, Phil," he said, a bit huskily, "if we
hadn't been friends and I didn't realize that you sure would never say
it in your right mind. I'm right sorry----"