"It's the White Mountain Canary," said Susie Satterly. "Hello!" said Cheyenne. "What?" "I'll be darned--no--yes--dinged if it isn't the Dink chasing the Canary!" As they sprang up, amazed, Stover dove at the fleeing tormentor, caught him, and the two went down in a heap, thrashing to and fro. "Well, I'll be jig-swiggered!" said Cheyenne. "I'll eat my pants!" "The Dink!" At this moment the awful wreck of the Coffee-colored Angel limped up. A chorus broke out: "The Coffee-colored Angel!" "Shot to pieces!" "Massacred!" "Kicked by a horse!" "What hit you?" "Dink," said the Coffee-colored Angel, taking a tooth out of his muddy mouth. "I caught him." Presently they saw Stover arise and loose the battered White Mountain Canary, who broke wildly for shelter. "Well, anyhow," said the Coffee-colored Angel, "Dink's swallowed the Canary." "What's he up to now?" said Cheyenne. They watched him approach the fence, deliberately take off his coat, remove his collar and necktie, tighten his belt and methodically, slowly roll up his sleeves. "Here he comes," said the Coffee-colored Angel, moving swiftly away. "Why, he's crying!" Dink came up the path, choking with rage and the knowledge of his own tears, and in front of them all threw down his coat. "You thought I was afraid, did you? You thought I was a coward!" he sobbed. "Well, I'll show you whether I'm afraid of you, any of you, you big bullies! You big stuff, you, come on!" And suddenly advancing, he squared off and struck Tough McCarty a wild blow, crash on the nose. IX They adjourned to a sheltered spot back of the stump willows and chose a bare space of soft, green turf. At their sides the brook ran splashing over the cool stones. "Who'll be Dink's second?" said Cheyenne Baxter, the referee. There was an embarrassed pause. "Go on, any of you," said Tough McCarty generously. "I'll be," said the Coffee-colored Angel. "He licked me square." He stepped over and held out his hand. "I don't want you--I don't want your hand!" said Dink with a scream. "I don't want any second; I won't have any! I hate you--I hate the whole lot of you!" Cheyenne Baxter consulted with Tough McCarty and came over. "Say, Dink," he said kindly, "Tough doesn't want to fight you now; it isn't fair. He'll give you a fight any time you want--when you're fresh." "I don't want to wait," cried Stover, blubbering despite himself. "I'll fight him now. I'll show him if I'm afraid, the big bully!" "What rounds do you want?" said Cheyenne, seeing it was wisest not to interfere. "I don't want any rounds," cried Dink wildly. "I want to get at him, the great, big mucker!" Cheyenne went over to Tough, who stood apart, looking very uncomfortable. "Better go on, Tough. Don't hurt the little varmint any more than you have to."