“Who says so?” demanded “Pug” Kennedy, as he called himself. “If you’re looking for trouble come down and get yours!” and he stepped out into the aisle and struck a characteristic pugilistic attitude. “I’m not looking for trouble,” said Jerry calmly; “but I like fair play, and I’m going to see that my friend gets it.” “Oh, you’re going to butt in, are you?” sneered the other. “No, I’m not in the habit of doing that,” said Jerry. “But what did you strike Bob for?” “None of your business.” “Oh, yes, it is our business, too,” said Ned, walking up beside Jerry. Bob’s nose had begun to bleed and he was holding his handkerchief to it. He seemed dazed, and acted as though he did not know how to account for what had occurred. “What happened, Bob?” asked Jerry, as Ned walked up to the heavily-built lad. “Why, I was looking for my bag of crullers, and I saw them in his pocket and----” “You did not!” burst out Pug Kennedy. “That’s my own grub that I bought in the station, and if you want to fight for it----” “What are you always talking about fighting for?” asked Ned suddenly, as he put out his hand and swung the bully around sharply. “I guess you aren’t the only one who can do that.” “Keep your hands off me!” roared Pug Kennedy. “If you’re looking for trouble----” “I generally find what I’m looking for,” said Ned softly, and he did not give back an inch as Kennedy took a quick step forward. Then, with a quickness that showed he understood considerable about the pugilistic ring, Kennedy made a sudden shift, and his fist shot out toward Ned. But the latter was just as quick, and, dodging the blow, he put out his hand in a stiff arm movement and pushed Kennedy back into his seat. The bully fell heavily. He tried to get up. “No you don’t! Just sit there awhile!” cried Ned, and he plumped himself down on the struggling one, holding him in place. Seeing how matters were going, the others who had crowded up drew back as well as they could in the aisle of the swaying car, to give room to the struggling ones. If there was to be a fight it was no more than right that it should be a fair one. “Let me up!” spluttered Pug Kennedy. “Not until I get ready,” answered Ned coolly. He could afford to be cool. For he had dodged what Pug had thought was going to be a “knockout blow” in such a clever way that the bully was disconcerted, and now Kennedy was held down in such a position that he could not use his strength to advantage. But he was strong, Ned had to admit that. Only because of the fact that he had the larger boy at a disadvantage, sitting on him, so to speak, and holding him down by bracing his legs against the opposite seat, was Ned able to keep himself where he was, for Pug struggled hard. “Just stay there until you cool off a bit,” advised Ned, “and until you learn not to hit out so with your fists. If you want to fight, we’ll find some one your size and weight in our crowd to take you on. How about it, Jerry?”