a moment, but only a moment. He had expected something a good deal
worse. If that was all, he would brave it out yet.

"Don't you hit me!" he said, defiantly.

Loman could not stand to be defied. His vanity was his weak point, and
nothing offended his vanity so much as to find any one as determined as
himself.

He took up a ruler, and in his passion flung it at the luckless
Stephen's head. It struck him hard on the cheek. The blood flushed to
the boy's face as he stood a moment half-stunned and smarting with the
pain, confronting his adversary. Then he rushed blindly in and flung
himself upon the bully.

Of course it was no match. The small boy was at the mercy of the big
one. The latter was indeed taken aback for a moment at the fury of his
young assailant, impotent as it was, but that was all. He might have
defended himself with a single hand; he might have carried the boy under
one arm out into the passage. But the evil spirit had been roused
within him, and that spirit knew no mercy. He struck out and fought his
little foeman as if he had been one of his own size and strength. For
every wild, feeble blow Stephen aimed, Loman aimed a hard and straight
blow back. If Stephen wavered, Loman followed in as he would in a
professional boxing match, and when at last the small boy gave up,
exhausted, bleeding, and scarcely able to stand, his foe administered a
parting blow, which, if he had struck no other, would have stamped him
as a coward for ever.

"Now!" exclaimed Loman, looking down on his victim, "will you do what
you're told now, eh?"

It was a critical moment for poor Stephen. After all, was the "strike"
worth all this hardship? A single word would have saved him; whereas if
he again defied his enemy, it was all up with him.

He did waver a moment; and lucky for him he did. For just then the door
opened, and Simon entered. Stephen saw his chance. Slipping to the
open door, he mustered up energy to cry as loud as he could, "No, I
won't;" and with that made good his escape into the passage, as done up
as a small boy well could be without being quite floored.

A dozen eager friends were at hand to aid in stopping the bleeding of
their hero's nose, and to apply raw steak to his black eye. The story
of his desperate encounter flew on the wings of fame all over the
school, and the glory and pride of the youngsters reached its climax
when, that afternoon, Stephen with his face all on one side,