“How came he here? when did he come into the boat?” asked Matt, though he had settled all these questions in his own mind before he said a word. “He says he went to sleep in the boat last night, and we sailed off with him,” replied Lon. “Is there any kind of a club in the cuddy, Matt? We are in for a fight; and I will break that fellow’s head, as I told you I would.” “We are going to divide up the broken heads more than they used to be,” said Wade coolly; for he had made up his mind for this thing, and he was ready for whatever might come. Matt looked for a stick; but the stock of fish-pole in the boat had given out when Wade was supplied. Nothing could be found but the pieces of the door Lon had stove in the night before. These were all small, and no club was at hand. But Lon picked up the splinters, and began to hurl them at his foe. He cast them with all his might; and, if any of them had hit Wade in the head, they would have hurt him. “That will do of that,” said Wade, gathering up his stick again. “Don’t you fling another one of them at me!” “Yes, I will! I’ll break your head before I’ve done with you!” replied Lon; and he picked up what was left of the door, intending to overwhelm his antagonist in one crushing blow. But Wade did not wait for him to get the door in position: he rushed upon him, and began to belabor him over the shoulders with the stick. Lon howled with rage and pain, and vainly struggled to get hold of the stick or his assailant. But Wade was too much for him. As for Matt, he made for the cuddy as soon as Wade began to press his companion. After a brief contest, Lon went down under the force of the blows that were rained upon him. “When you want any more, all you got to do is to say so,” said the conqueror. “I didn’t begin this fight; but I’m going to see the end of it.” “You don’t fight fair,” gasped Lon, using the common argument of the defeated bully. “I fight any way I can. I don’t believe in fighting at all, and I never did any such thing before in my life,” replied Wade, still holding his weapon ready for use. “You’ve always hit me just when you had a mind to, and I have always stood it; but I’m not going to stand it any more. When you hit me, I’m going to hit back again, whatever comes of it. I won’t hurt anybody that lets me alone.” “Why didn’t you stand by me, Matt Swikes?” demanded Lon, as Matt crawled out of the cuddy again; which he did not do till Wade had assumed a more peaceable aspect. “I wasn’t going to be hit over the head with that stick,” replied Matt, seating himself by the door of the cuddy. “You’re a coward, Matt Swikes, as you always were; and I have half a mind to hit you over the head,” added Lon, disgusted with his companion, and entirely unable to account for his defeat in a battle with a fellow whom he had always regarded as an insignificant foe.