“I’ll even up with you for this, you—you cub!” Dan drew himself up proudly. “Very well. I have tried to do the manly thing. If you refuse to have it that way, it surely is not my fault. But I give you fair warning. Keep away and let me alone hereafter. Until you are willing to make friends, I want nothing more to do with you. When you are, I shall be glad to meet you half way.” “That’s the talk, Dynie,” chorused several voices approvingly. “You had better not fool with the fire any more, Bill. It burns. You ain’t in the same class with that stick of dynamite. He’s got you anchored with both port and starboard anchors and the chains not half out.” “Please do not stir him up,” begged Dan. “I am ashamed of myself for what I have done as it is.” “What? Ashamed for licking the ship’s bully?” “Yes.” “Well, ain’t that a joke, mates?” The sailors laughed loudly. In the meantime, Kester’s seconds had gotten him up, and were helping him to a sheltered part of the superstructure, where they assisted him to get into his clothes. The big man was still very unsteady on his feet, and his face was streaked with blood from the unfortunate nose. “You’ll have to go to Pills to get fixed up.” “Yes, my nose hurts.” Once more the surgeon was called upon to dress Bill Kester’s face and bolster up the flattened nose. “You’ve been in a fight again, my man,” rebuked the surgeon. “I shall have to make a report of it to the captain. Who hit you!” “Davis.” “It will go hard with him, then,” muttered the surgeon. “That young man must have an awful punch.” The surgeon’s report was duly made to the captain. The latter called his executive officer at once. “See here, Coates, what’s this about Kester having been in another fight?” he demanded after the executive officer had responded to his summons. “It wasn’t a fight, sir.” “Not a fight?” “No, sir. That is, it was a boxing match on the forecastle. One of the regular set-tos. It was all regular and proper, but it was pretty rough, I understand.” “Who did it?” “Ordinary Seaman Davis.” “The red-headed boy?” “No, his friend.” “You don’t mean to tell me that that slim youngster put a man of Kester’s build in such shape that he had to report at sick bay, do you?” “Yes, sir.” “Why, I thought Kester was known as a bully?” “He was, sir. He will not be any longer, I imagine.” The captain gazed at his executive officer; then, leaning back in his chair, he laughed and chuckled to himself for a full minute.