"You'll be sorry some time, old chap," he said, "just as I would be if I permitted you to lead me into a wretched fight. You don't understand----" "Oh, yes I do; I understand everything. I've gug-got you sized up for just what you are, a big case of bluff. I've cuc-called you, and your show-down is mighty rotten. Bah! If the fellows around here want to think you the whole shooting match after this, they're welcome to do so. But in order to keep your reputation as a dangerous character you'll have to do something besides jump on fellows like Rackliff and Lander." Disdainfully he turned his back on Grant. "You chaps can sus-see just what sort of a creature your fine hero is," he said. "Now hang around him as much as you like, and worship him. You all make me sick!" He walked away, followed hastily by Rackliff. At the corner above the square Herbert overtook Phil, who seemed surprised as he came up. "Oh, say," chuckled the city youth, "you did bore it into him fine! And he didn't dare put a hand on you, either. That was queer, for, my word! he's strong as Sandow. He handled me as easy as if I wasn't out of knickerbockers." "Paugh!" said Phil. "Anybody could do that. You've sus-sucked cigarettes until you haven't as much strength as a sick kitten." "Oh, I don't know about that," retorted Rackliff resentfully. "I guess I'm about as strong as the average fellow; but I tell you he's a holy terror--a perfect Hercules. I thought every minute he'd open on you. I don't see why he didn't, for you rubbed it in to the limit." "He didn't dare, that's the reason why," declared Springer. "I've got him sized up now; he's the kind that strikes when the other chap isn't lul-looking." "I guess you're right. I called him a bluffer, too. It was first rate of you to step in and take my part." "I didn't do it on your account." "No?" "Not at all. I was itching for an excuse to get at him, and you provided one, that's all." Herbert was somewhat taken aback by this frank confession. "Well," he said slowly, "anyhow, you showed him up to that bunch of lickspittles. They were surprised." "I fuf-fancy so. This whole town has got the notion that Rod Grant is simply it. They thought he would fight at the drop of the hat." "What would you have done if he'd taken you up?" "Whipped him," answered Phil confidently. "I've taken boxing lessons. What does he know about scientific fighting? I had made up my mum-mind to take care that it was a regular fight by rounds, with seconds and a referee to see fair play. I'd certainly fixed him that way, all right." Still, to his annoyance, Rackliff seemed doubtful. "Perhaps you would, but if he'd ever got in one wallop----" "Oh, you make me tut-tired!" exclaimed Springer. "Well, even if you didn't butt in on my account, I'm much obliged, just the same. You're all right, Spring, old fel, and if I can do you a good turn I will. Perhaps I'll have the chance. Gee! I want a whiff. Have a smoke?"