Strangely enough, the undoubted champion proved to be the youngest and darkest of all the combatants, one Verman, coloured, brother to Herman, and substantially under the size to which his nine years entitled him. Verman was unfortunately tongue-tied, but he was valiant beyond all others, and, in spite of every handicap, he became at once the chief support of his own party and the despair of the opposition. On the third Saturday this opposition had been worn down by the successive captures of Maurice Levy and Georgie Bassett until it consisted of only Sam Williams and Penrod. Hence, it behooved these two to be wary, lest they be wiped out altogether; and Sam was dismayed indeed, upon cautiously scouting round a corner of his own stable, to find himself face to face with the valorous and skilful Verman, who was acting as an outpost, or picket, of the enemy. Verman immediately fell upon Sam, horse and foot, and Sam would have fled but dared not, for fear he might be touched from the rear. Therefore, he defended himself as best he could, and there followed a lusty whacking, in the course of which Verman's hat, a relic and too large, fell from his head, touching Sam's weapon in falling. “There!” panted Sam, desisting immediately. “That counts! You're bonded, Verman.” “Aim meewer!” Verman protested. Interpreting this as “Ain't neither”, Sam invented a law to suit the occasion. “Yes, you are; that's the rule, Verman. I touched your hat with my sword, and your hat's just the same as you.” “Imm mop!” Verman insisted. “Yes, it is,” said Sam, already warmly convinced (by his own statement) that he was in the right. “Listen here! If I hit you on the shoe, it would be the same as hitting YOU, wouldn't it? I guess it'd count if I hit you on the shoe, wouldn't it? Well, a hat's just the same as shoes. Honest, that's the rule, Verman, and you're a pris'ner.” Now, in the arguing part of the game, Verman's impediment cooperated with a native amiability to render him far less effective than in the actual combat. He chuckled, and ceded the point. “Aw wi,” he said, and cheerfully followed his captor to a hidden place among some bushes in the front yard, where Penrod lurked. “Looky what _I_ got!” Sam said importantly, pushing his captive into this retreat. “NOW, I guess you won't say I'm not so much use any more! Squat down, Verman, so's they can't see you if they're huntin' for us. That's one o' the rules--honest. You got to squat when we tell you to.” Verman was agreeable. He squatted, and then began to laugh uproariously. “Stop that noise!” Penrod commanded. “You want to betray us? What you laughin' at?” “Ep mack im mimmup,” Verman giggled. “What's he mean?” Sam asked. Penrod was more familiar with Verman's utterance, and he interpreted. “He says they'll get him back in a minute.” “No, they won't. I'd just like to see--”