Singling out the offender among a group of boys dancing delightedly up and down, Percy made a sudden rush and pounced upon him like a hawk on a chicken. Holding him by the collar, he cuffed his ears soundly. The criminal wriggled and twisted, loudly and tearfully protesting his innocence. A stocky, freckled lad of about eighteen, with a close-cut head of brown hair, came out of a neighboring house on the run. His snub nose and projecting jaw suggested a human bulldog. He thrust his face close up to Percy's. "What're you maulin' my brother for?" he demanded, truculently. Percy dropped his victim, having finished chastising him. The latter rubbed his eyes and howled louder than ever. "I asked you why you were maulin' my brother," reiterated the newcomer in a still more belligerent tone. "Because he burned this hole in my coat," replied Percy, exhibiting the damaged garment. "I didn't do it!" howled the boy. "You hear that?" exclaimed the freckled lad, angrily. "He says he didn't and I say he didn't." "Well, I say he did!" "Do you mean to tell me I lie?" Percy became suddenly aware that a ring was forming round him. He cast a hasty glance about the lowering faces and recognized some of his would-be hecklers of the afternoon. No Tarpaulin Islanders were there. He was a stranger in a strange land. But the Whittington in him was up, and he did not blench. He faced his questioner. "If you say he didn't burn that hole--yes!" An indignant chorus rose from the group. "Did you hear that, Jabe? He called you a liar. I wouldn't stand that. Make him eat those words! It's the fresh guy who made the cheap talk at the ball-game. Soak him! Do him up!" Spurred on by these exhortations, Jabe dropped his head between his shoulders and came at his enemy with the rush of a mad bull. Percy was a good boxer. He had taken lessons from several first-class sparring-masters, and would have been no mean antagonist for anybody of his age and weight. But Jabe was a year older and fully twenty-five pounds heavier. Evidently, too, he had the abounding health and strength that come from life in the open. The odds against the city boy were heavy, but he stood up gamely. Jabe rushed in upon him and struck with all his might. Percy side-stepped, and the blow went harmlessly by, while his assailant's rush carried him to the other side of the ring. Whirling about with a cry of rage, he came back, swinging his arms like a windmill. "Now, Jabe! Now, Jabe!" rose the cry. Again Percy leaped aside, and his right arm shot out. The blow caught his foe fairly under the left ear, and he went sprawling; but he was down only for a moment. Springing to his feet, he hurled himself into the fray with redoubled fury. Again he was knocked down, and again he renewed the battle, with more strength than before.