At first Larry was too much occupied with his troubles to pay any attention. Then someone called again: “Larry Dexter cries like a girl!” Larry looked up, to meet the laughing gaze of a boy about his own size and age, with bright red hair and a face much covered with freckles. “I’m not a cry-baby!” Larry exclaimed. “You be, too! Didn’t I see you cryin’?” “I’ll make you cry on the other side of your mouth, Chot Ramsey!” Larry exclaimed, making a spring for his tormentor. Chot doubled up his fists. To do him credit he had no idea that Larry was crying because he felt so badly at the prospect of leaving the farm that had been his home for many years. Chot was a good-hearted boy, but thoughtless. So, when he saw one of his playmates weeping, which act was considered only fit for girls, Chot could not resist the temptation to taunt Larry. “Do you want t’ fight?” demanded Chot. “I’ll punch you for calling me names!” exclaimed Larry, his sorrow at the sale of his father’s armchair dispersed at the idea of being laughed at and called a cry-baby. “You will, hey?” asked Chot. “Well, I dare you to touch me!” “I’ll make you sing a different tune in a minute!” cried Larry, rushing forward. Then, like two game roosters, both wishing to fight, yet neither desiring to begin the battle, the boys faced each other. Their eyes were angry and all tears had disappeared from Larry’s face. “Will you knock a chip off my shoulder?” demanded Chot. “Sure,” replied Larry. Chot stooped down, found a little piece of wood and carefully balanced it on the upper part of his arm. “I dare you to!” he taunted. This time-honored method of starting hostilities was not ignored by Larry. He sprang forward, and with a quick motion sent the fragment of wood flying through the air. Then he doubled up his fists, imitating the example Chot had earlier set, and stood ready for the fracas. But at that instant, when, in another second Chot and Larry would have been involved in a rough-and-tumble encounter, James, Larry’s little brother, came running around the corner of the barn. He seemed greatly excited. “Larry! Larry!” he exclaimed. “They’re sellin’ my nice old rockin’ horse, an’ my high chair what I used to have when I was a baby! Please stop ’em, Larry!” Larry lost all desire to fight. He didn’t mind if all the boys in Campton called him cry-baby. He had too many sorrows to mind that. “Don’t worry, Jimmie,” he said to the little fellow. “I’ll buy you some new ones.” But little James was not to be comforted, and burst into a flood of tears. Chot, who had looked on in some wonder at what it was all about, for he did not understand that the household goods were being sold, unclosed his clenched fists. Underneath a somewhat rough exterior he had a warm heart.