ne. Passing quietly up the driveway and round to the
rear of the house, he came to a window, which was open at the top, and
sharply tapped on the glass.

"Who's that?" came a voice.

"Dress and come out, Andy Carmichael. I'm Ray Gilbert."

The sash was thrown up and the boy glowered in the opening. "Ray
Gilbert!--you cowardly, sneaking puppy! What do you want?"

"I want to see you. Dress and come out. Don't wake anybody."

He spoke quietly, trying to appear his usual self lest this monster,
this overshadowing terror of his life, should see whatever it was that
had frightened the horse and slain the dog. This was the boy who had
beaten him so often and with such merciless, sodden, gluttonous
enjoyment; the boy who, when he did not care to give the beatings
himself--no provocation was ever needed,--would stand threateningly by
and let the smaller boys, even to the little ones with soft, puny fists,
beat the coward as long as they wished, merely for the love of beating
what did not resist; the boy whose lies had brought undeserved whippings
from the teacher; the boy who openly insulted him whenever he pleased,
and, worst of all, had humiliated him before Grace Elderby. It was the
presence of this boy at the party that evening, and the looks that he
gave Ray, and the sly tortures he inflicted, that had sent up the
curtain on the night's drama.

In wondering surprise Andy studied the bare-headed, ragged, dirty figure
standing in the moonlight; and as crimson looks a muddy brown in such a
light, he mistook the smears on the other's face and the dark splotches
on his clothing. What could the creature want of him at this time of
night and with that extraordinary appearance? Likely Ray had been set
upon and was seeking any refuge. It would be joyous to complete the work
that the others had begun. Andy soon emerged from the house.

"Come this way," said his mysterious visitant, and perplexed Andy
followed him to the rear of the fowl-house, where the light was clear.
The flame and smoke of the old grass fire were strong in the air.

Ray halted, and faced him.

"Take off your coat," he quietly said, removing his own tattered
garment.

"What for?" with a slight quaver composed of anger--and something else;
for there was a touch of the uncanny here.

"We are going to fight."

"Fight, eh! What put that into your fool head?" Under the initial
impulse from the challenge, Andy was all heat and eagerness, and he
bristled an