was not expected to stand abuse," flashed
through his mind.

So, instead of cringing away from a repetition of the blow, Hal took a
sudden bound forward.

Whack!

"I have no use for a box on the ear," smiled Hal grimly. "So you can
have it back!"

Private Bill Hooper let out a roar, then sprang for the boy, intending
to pulverize the young rookie with his fists. But five or six of the men
sprang between them, forming an effective human wall.

"Shame on you, Hooper!"

"That's no way for a man to act."

"Get off your blouse, kid," blustered Private Hooper, as he unfastened
his own blouse and tossed it over the end of a cot. "You need a
trimming, and you're going to get it right now!"

"Here, kid, button your blouse up again," ordered Private Hyman. "You
ain't called upon to fight that bully. Hooper, if you're spoiling for
fight I'll do my best to be kind to you."

But Hal, the flush dying from his cheeks, coolly continued unbuttoning
his blouse. Then he pulled it off, handing it to a soldier near by.

"Dress yourself, kid. You don't have to fight a man twice your size."

"Let some one else have the job, kid. There's some of us here will take
it."

"The kid will stand up and take his own trimming," announced Hooper,
with ugly emphasis.

"No, no, no!"

"Beat it, Hooper!"

"Mates," went on Hal, as soon as he could make himself heard, "I'm
willing to stand for anything that's coming to a rook. But this is a
case that calls for something different. I've got to satisfy this man
that I can stand up before a pair of fists, or he'll never respect me
enough to let me alone."

"Why, kid, a man of Hooper's size will reduce you to powder," objected
Hyman seriously. "It's all right to have sand, and I guess you've got
it, but you've no call to be slaughtered."

"He'll thrash me," agreed Hal coolly, "but I'll get in enough on him to
make him want to let me alone after this. I'm ready for the fellow."

Realizing that the rookie was in earnest the soldiers stepped away from
between the pair.

"But you play fair, Hooper, or we'll kick you all over the squad room,"
warned another soldier.

Private Hooper clenched his fists, and stood flexing his arms, which,
through his shirt-sleeves, appeared to be decidedly powerful.

"Step up, kid, and get your trimming," he invited, with a ferocious
smile.

"I don't know much about fighting," admitted Hal, smiling pleasantly.
"All I know my dancing teacher taught me."