Percy realized that in a rough-and-tumble he would be no match for Jabe. In legitimate boxing he had shown himself his foe's superior; and he was not particularly anxious to emphasize that fact by blacking Jabe's eyes or "bloodying" his nose. He would have been willing to let the matter stand where it was or allow Jabe to wear himself fruitlessly down to exhaustion. But such a course was neither feasible nor safe. Jabe would never voluntarily acknowledge that he was beaten. Besides, there was always the chance of something happening to put Percy at his mercy; and Percy knew only too well what that mercy would be. His only safety was to force a clear-cut decision. "It's a case of knock-out," he decided. "No use to bruise him up. Might as well have it over quick!" Savagely, though somewhat wearily, yet with undaunted determination, Jabe rushed him and struck out with his left. For the first time in the battle Percy launched in with all his strength. He cross-countered with his right on the point of Jabe's jaw. It was the wind-up. Jabe hit the hayseed in a heap. For a few seconds he lay motionless, then struggled to a sitting position. "Got enough?" asked Percy. Jabe took the count. "I'm licked," he acknowledged; and there were tears in his voice. "Can I do anything for you?" "No; I'll be all right in a little while." Percy put on his coat and cap and started toward the door. As he passed Jabe the latter stretched out his hand. "You can fight," he conceded, grudging admiration in his tones. Percy grasped the bunch of stubby fingers. "So can you," he returned. "If you'd been to the masters I've had, I wouldn't care to mix it with you." The boys opened a way for him respectfully as he passed through the door. He was breathing a little quicker than usual, but he had not received a scratch. Going back to the wharf where they had landed, he found that Budge had been waiting for him almost fifteen minutes. "What makes you so late, Perce?" he hailed. "We want to ship these groceries and start for Tarpaulin before noon." Percy began passing the boxes and bags down aboard the dory. "Sorry to have kept you waiting," he apologized. "But I've just been settling an account with an old friend." Then he told Lane of his encounter with Jabe. "Now," continued he, "I'll tell you why I've been up into the woods every afternoon with that sweater of rockweed. I made it into a tight bundle and hung it on a springy limb to use for a punching-bag. It wasn't very ornamental, but it served the purpose. I've been training for this fight ever since the Fourth; had a feeling I'd get another chance at him. It's over now, and I hope everybody's satisfied. I am, at any rate." "So that's the reason of your daily pilgrimages," laughed Lane. "You certainly have been faithful enough to deserve to win. But what if you'd never run across Jabe again? Wouldn't you have felt that you'd thrown away your time?"