"Johnnie Hedge 'tis," answered the new boy. Then came another great silence while Whilomville pondered this intelligence. Again came the voice of authority--"Where'd you live b'fore?" "Jersey City." These two sentences completed the first section of the formal code. The second section concerned itself with the establishment of the new-comer's exact position in the neighborhood. "I kin lick you," announced Willie Dalzel, and awaited the answer. The Hedge boy had stared at Willie Dalzel, but he stared at him again. After a pause he said, "I know you kin." "Well," demanded Willie, "kin _he_ lick you?" And he indicated Jimmie Trescott with a sweep which announced plainly that Jimmie was the next in prowess. Whereupon the new boy looked at Jimmie respectfully but carefully, and at length said, "I dun'no'." This was the signal for an outburst of shrill screaming, and everybody pushed Jimmie forward. He knew what he had to say, and, as befitted the occasion, he said it fiercely: "Kin you lick me?" The new boy also understood what he had to say, and, despite his unhappy and lonely state, he said it bravely: "Yes." "Well," retorted Jimmie, bluntly, "come out and do it, then! Jest come out and do it!" And these words were greeted with cheers. These little rascals yelled that there should be a fight at once. They were in bliss over the prospect. "Go on, Jim! Make 'im come out. He said he could lick you. Aw-aw-aw! He said he could lick you!" There probably never was a fight among this class in Whilomville which was not the result of the goading and guying of two proud lads by a populace of urchins who simply wished to see a show. Willie Dalzel was very busy. He turned first to the one and then to the other. "You said you could lick him. Well, why don't you come out and do it, then? You said you could lick him, didn't you?" "Yes," answered the new boy, dogged and dubious. Willie tried to drag Jimmie by the arm. "Aw, go on, Jimmie! You ain't afraid, are you?" "No," said Jimmie. The two victims opened wide eyes at each other. The fence separated them, and so it was impossible for them to immediately engage; but they seemed to understand that they were ultimately to be sacrificed to the ferocious aspirations of the other boys, and each scanned the other to learn something of his spirit. They were not angry at all. They were merely two little gladiators who were being clamorously told to hurt each other. Each displayed hesitation and doubt without displaying fear. They did not exactly understand what were their feelings, and they moodily kicked the ground and made low and sullen answers to Willie Dalzel, who worked like a circus-manager.