hanks got a second blow, this time on
the head, that sent his cap flying.

Nevertheless, he still kept his prisoner held in the trap and fast by
the right hand.

Then Little-Boy tore open his portfolio with frantic haste; from the
portfolio he drew out a pen-case, from the pen-case a pen-holder, which
all at once he began jabbing into the hand of Long-Shanks that held his
brother prisoner.

"Clever lad!" said the colonel to himself. "Fine lad!" His red eyes
fairly gleamed with delight.

The affair was now becoming too hot for Long-Shanks. Stung with pain,
he released his first opponent to throw himself with furious blows on
Little-Boy.

But the latter was now transformed into a veritable little wild-cat.
His hat had flown from his head, his curly hair clung round his fine,
deathly pale face, out of which his eyes fairly burned; the portfolio
with all its contents was lying on the ground--over cap, portfolio and
all he went for the anatomy of Long-Shanks.

He threw himself on the enemy, and with little, clenched, convulsive
fists belabored him so on stomach and body that Long-Shanks began to
retreat step by step.

In the mean while Chubby-Cheeks had recovered himself, snatched up
his portfolio, and with blow after blow on the sides and back of his
oppressor, pushed into the fight again.

Long-Shanks at last threw off Little-Boy, took two steps backward and
picked up his cap from the ground. The fight was drawing to a finish.
Panting and out of breath, the three stood looking at one another.
Long-Shanks showed an ugly grin, behind which he tried to hide the shame
of his defeat; Little-Boy, with fists still doubled, followed every
one of his movements with blazing eyes, ready at a moment to spring once
more upon the enemy should the latter renew the attack. But Long-Shanks
did not advance again; he had had enough. Sneering and shrugging his
shoulders, he kept drawing away farther and farther until he had reached
a safe distance, when he began to call out names. The two brothers now
collected the belongings of Little-Boy that lay scattered about, stuffed
them into the portfolio, picked up their caps, whipped the dust from
them, and turned home ward. On the way they passed the windows of our
wine-room. I could now plainly see the brave little fellow; he was a
thoroughbred, every inch of him. Long-Shanks was again approaching
from behind and bawling after them through the length of the square.
Little-Boy shrugged h