"Perhaps you _like_ people who hang cats?" I says, very scornful, the sore spot hurting again. "Now, Will, don't be silly!" says mother. "Try again; think how funny it would have seemed to you, if it had happened to any one else." "That's so," I admits, my red hair smoothing down. "Well, I'll try again; but no more Sandy Grays." IV THE FIGHT The next day my friend Mrs. Gray waylaid father, and told him fervently she didn't want me teachin' her Sandy none of my fool tricks. And the old gentleman read me the riot act trimmed me to a peak, by word of mouth. There's where me and righteous conduct near parted company. I'm afraid I sassed the old man a little. I was awful sore, you know. Anyway, it wound up unpleasant. Father wouldn't listen to my side, as usual, and I'll leave it to any man that's tried to do the right thing and had it explode with him to realize how I felt. Boys have feelings. There's lots of folk don't believe it, but I've studied boys to a certain extent, and I'm willing to bet small sums they're almost like persons in that respect. I got ugly under the pressure. Then I beat the head near off Anker's slimy little whelp, as the only relief in sight. That was dead wrong. He was 'way smaller 'n me, and hadn't done nothing at the time to deserve it. I went on father's principle that although no immediate cause was visible, yet there was plenty in the past and future to lick him for, so I lammed his both eyes black, bunged up his nose, and sent him hollering home. He met our schoolteacher on the way. Mr. Judson and I come together fairly regular, yet we liked each other. He was a square man, Samuel Judson, and he knew kids from thirty years' experience. He never made but one mistake with me, and he come out and begged my pardon before the whole school for that. Father sneered at his doing it--saying a teacher ought to uphold discipline, and to beg a boy's pardon was just inviting all kinds of skulduggery. Howsomever, Sammy Judson won me by that play. When he put the gad on me it was with the best of feelings on both sides. I can see the old lad now, smiling a thin little smile, sort of sourcastic, yet real kind underneath, whilst he twiddled the switch in his hands. "Just let me trim a certain amount of foolishness out of you, and you'll make a fine man--a _fine_ man, William," he'd say. And perhaps you think that small thin gentleman didn't know how to make a hickory bite! He could get every tender spot, by instinct. Well, he met young Mr. Anker, as I was saying, and asked him what ailed him. Algy explained the foul way I treated him, careful not to let the tale lose anything. "Ah!" says Sammy, "and what was this for?" "For nothing at all--not a thing!" Sammy looks at him from under his shaggy eyebrows. "I've often longed to thrash you for that same reason," says he, and marches on.