Stinky, smarting with defeat, instantly took up the challenge. "That's no test of strength," he cried angrily. "Women can stand a lot more than men." "Orl right; choose yer own game, an' I'm after yer," said Chook. Behind them a hammer fell with a tremendous thud, and a voice cried, "Try yer strength--only a penny, only a penny." "'Ow'll that suit yer?" inquired Stinky, with a malicious grin, for he counted on his superior weight and muscle to overcome his rival. "Let 'er go!" cried Chook. Stinky spat on his hands, and seized the wooden mallet. Cripes, he would show Pinkey which was the better man of the two! He tightened his muscles with tremendous effort as he swung the hammer, turning red in the face with the exertion. The mallet fell, and a little manikin flew up the pillar, marking the weight of the blow. It was a good stroke, and he threw down the hammer with the air of a Sandow. Then Chook seized the mallet, still with his provoking grin at Pinkey, and swung it with the ease of a man using an axe. The manikin flew level with Stinky's mark. And they disputed angrily which was the heavier blow. But Stinky, whose blood was up, seized the mallet again, and forced every ounce of his strength into the blow. The manikin flew a foot higher than the previous mark. The contest went on, each striving to beat the other's mark, with blows that threatened to shatter the machine, till both were tired. But Stinky's second blow held the record. Chook was beaten. "Is there any other game yer know?" sneered Stinky. Near them were the shooting-galleries, looking like enormous chimneys that had blown down. A sharp, spitting crack came from each rifle as it was fired. "A dollar even money yer can't ring the bell in six shots," cried Chook. "Done!" shouted Stinky. The stakes, in half-crowns, were handed to the proprietor of the gallery, and they took turns with the pea-rifle, resting their elbows on the ledge as they stared down the black tube at a white disc that seemed miles away. Each held the gun awkwardly like a broom-handle, holding their breath to prevent the barrel from wobbling. At the fifth shot, by a lucky fluke, Chook rang the bell. When he put down the rifle, Stinky was already dragging Pinkey away, his face black with anger. But Chook cried out, "'Ere, 'arf a mo'--this is my shout!" They were near the ice-cream stall, where trade was brisk, for the people's appetite for this delicacy is independent of the season. Pinkey, who adored ice-cream, looked with longing eyes, but Stinky turned angrily on his heel. "'Ave a bit o' common, an' don't make a 'oly show of yerself 'cause yer lost a dollar," she whispered in disgust.