Little boy, little boy,
Does your mother know you're out;

With your breeches put on backward,
And the seams all inside out!"

This was the first time that my spirit had been hurt. His words were
a torment that left a scar upon my very soul. Even to this day when
I awake from some bad dream, it is a dream that I am wearing crazy
breeches and all the world is jeering at me. It has made me tender
toward poor children who have to wear hand-me-downs.

To-day psychologists talk much of the "inferiority complex" which spurs
a man forward to outdo himself. But Babe Durgon and I didn't go into
these matters as we trudged along through the dark on our way to do
battle "over the line." At the foot of the hill, Babe exclaimed:

"What's the use of going any farther? Let's fight here." It was in front
of a new building--a church-school half completed. We took off our coats
and made belts of our suspenders. Then we squared off and the fight
began. Babe rushed me like a wild boar and tried to thrust his deadly
thumb into my eye. I threw up my head and his thumb gashed my lips and
went into my mouth. The impact almost knocked me over, but my teeth
had closed on his thumb and when he jerked back he put me on my balance
again. I clouted him on the jaw and knocked him down. He landed in the
lime box. The school had not yet been plastered, and the quicklime was
in an open pit. I started in after the bully, but stopped to save my
pants from the lime. There was a hose near by, and I turned the water on
Babe in the lime bath. The lime completely covered him. He was whipped
and in fear of his life. Choking and weeping he hollered, "Nuff." We got
him out, too weak to stand, and gently leaned him up in a corner of the
school building. There we left the crushed bully and returned to town.
But before I went I gave him this parting shot:

"Do you know why I licked you, Babe? It wasn't what you said in the
tavern that made me mad. I didn't want a glass of beer, and you were
right in saying I was a minor. Where you made your mistake was when you
made fun of my breeches, seven years ago. And do you remember that blue
suit you had on at the time? I know where you got that blue suit of
clothes, and I know who had it before you got it. If you still think
that a bully in charity clothes can make fun of a boy in clothes that he
earned with his own labor, just say so, and I'll give you another clout
that will finish you."

All bull