e Carter and May could stop him
he had inflicted more damage than the rest of the fight had produced.
Bobby's nose too was bleeding, and a huge red bump was swelling on his
forehead when finally he was freed.

However, he was not even aware of those trifles.

"Don't you know those two screws--" he began eagerly to Johnny.

But that young gentleman, panting, was not yet emerged from the red haze
of combat.

"I licked!" he cried. "Didn't I lick? He quit! He hollered 'nuff, didn't
he? I licked the stuffing out of him!"

"O shut up!" said May contemptuously; "or I'll lick the stuffing out of
you."

Bobby, practically oblivious to the meaning of this exchange, had
stripped off his gloves and had advanced, eager to finish his
explanation.

"Johnny, I just thought!" said he. "You remember those two thumb screws
under the platen? I bet you if you turn those, they'll regulate the
pressure. Let's go over and try it!"

Johnny looked at Bobby uncertainly. He drew a deep breath, then his
round, cheerful grin broke over his face.

"I guess I didn't lick you after all, old socks," said he. "I don't know
what you're talking about. Go on try your old press. I'm sick of her."

Bobby washed his bruised face and went home. Sure enough, the thumb
screws did regulate the pressure. Within a half-hour he was back at the
Englishes'. The boxing gloves were still in commission. Morton was
dancing around and around May, slapping her with his open glove first on
one side the face, then on the other. The girl, in spite of her
strength, agility and superior age was as awkward as are most girls at
hitting with their fists. She made short angry rushes at the dodging
Morton who slipped easily in and out of her guard. He was getting even
for a long tyranny. Finally May stopped short and stamped her foot with
vexation. Her face was very red and she actually had tears in her eyes.

"Oh!" she cried. "You wait 'till I get hold of you, you miserable little
thing!"

At that the boxing ended. Bobby drew Johnny one side. "Look there!" said
he with pardonable pride. "Show that to your papa. I bet he can't tell
it from the regular printers. Look out; it's wet yet."

Johnny gazed with awe on the perfect production. The next instant all
his dead enthusiasm leaped to life.

"I bet we can print the whole thousand in one morning!" he cried
gleefully, "And then there's the letter-heads, and bill-heads and May's
cards--and perhaps your father and Carter