Hike laughed, “You’ve got sand, anyway, Lefty. You know I can lick you, without trying. But don’t splutter so much; we can’t catch what you say. By the way, ‘like you was’ strikes me as rotten grammar—and I ain’t any too careful myself.” “You sure ain’t,” snarled Left Ear. “‘Ain’t’ is about as ungrammatical as anything I could ever say.” He wondered why the rest of the gang grinned, when he looked to them for approval and comfort. “Right you are, Lefty,” hummed Hike, and continued, “Now, about Poodle’s being a baby. How about that, Pood’?” “No,” said Poodle, shortly. “Fight. To-night. Fig Tree Major. Heh, Left Eared?” “All right,” said Left Ear, and departed, still furious. “Sorry you’ve got to fight—don’t like it much, even if I did fight with Taffy, t’other day,” mused Hike. “But I guess it’ll be the only way to calm down Left Ear. He’ll be a good friend of ours, after you beat him up.” Hike knew, and Poodle knew, that Poodle was not at all likely to do anything like “beating up” Left Ear, who was certain to stand high in the school boxing-contest, as well as to make the football-team, one of these days. In a way, Poodle had more courage than Hike—he was not half so strong, yet he was no more afraid. It showed that night in the way in which he faced Left Ear, and took a bloody nose without flinching. “There,” cried Hike to Poodle, as they returned home after the fight. “I hope that will be the last nose-punching we’ll have to go through with. It’s too kiddish, that’s all.” But he knew that Left Eared Dongan was still angry, and that he would have to discover some way of soothing that imaginative person. How—when? He didn’t know. But he’d have to find the way. Meanwhile (as he continued to Poodle): “I’m going to cut out _all_ this strong-arm business, aeroplaning and everything else, just as soon as football-season is over. I’m going to settle down right now, and study electricity, all the time. Study! Nobody’ll get me out of my room, not for one minute, except for recitations and football. Me for the quiet life. No fighting, no aeroplaning, no nothing, till—” Just then Poodle pounced on a yellow envelope which had been poked under their door while they were away. “Telegram for you, Hike,” he said. Hike read it over, then exclaimed, “Well, what do you think of that! Cap’n Wibbelty-Wobbelty’s on the loose! Well, what _do_ you think of _that_?” “We’d all be glad to tell you what we think of it before we hear it,” said Poodle. “Oh, pardon _me_. Here she is. Want the address read, too?” “Oh, Hike, _please_ read it, if it’s got anything to do with Wibbelty-Wobbelty.” “Listen: ‘Come to San Francisco at once. Meet me Palace Hotel. Captain Welch in Mexico making trouble at my ranch. Insurrectos. Need help with tetrahedral. Explain when come. Hurry. ‘John Adeler.’” “Wow!” said Poodle, amazed, and—