y, and before he could recover himself
the capering opponent had "landed" on Billy's cheek in a most surprising
but altogether unrefreshing manner.

The concussion made the cheek the color of an old-fashioned peony, and
the jar caused the nose to bleed a little as the astonished Billy
staggered back under the impact of a clenched fist.

Then the real fight began, but Billy, though he made a strong effort to
rally, was beaten, and he knew, or thought he knew, why he was beaten.
"It was holding the thought that done it," he faltered, as he fell after
a quick stroke from Jim. He lay quiet on the grass, and his one wish was
to die. He fixed his mind resolutely upon this wish, but failed to die
at once; indeed he felt every moment the reviving forces of life
throbbing through his tough young body. How could he look up and face
his victorious foe? He decided rather to continue his efforts to die,
and forthwith stiffened out into such rigidity as can be observed only
in the bodies of those who have been dead forty-eight hours.

This manoeuver frightened the lads around him. "See here!" said Johnny
Flynn, "Billy's hurt bad, an' we ought to do something."

"He looks dead!" whimpered little Davy Runnion, the smallest boy
present, and he ran off to tell Jim McMasters, who stood at ease, at a
short distance, arranging his disordered dress.

The victor faltered as he looked upon Billy's stiffened limbs.

"We must take him home," he said, ruefully.

Four boys lifted Billy, two at his shoulders, two at his feet. In the
center he sagged slightly, despite his silent efforts to be rigidity
itself. The small procession was preceded by a rabble of white-faced
small boys, while the rear was guarded by Jim McMasters, meditating on
the reflection that victory might be too dearly bought. Just as they
reached the front steps of Mrs. Dodge's house, and were beginning the
tug up toward the door, Jim burst into a loud bawl, and this so much
disconcerted the youngsters who were carrying Billy that they almost
dropped him on the white door-stone.

Johnny Flynn gave a mighty ring at the door-bell, and then fled down the
steps and ran to the street corner, where he stood, one foot in the air,
ready to run when the door opened. The neat maid who answered the bell
gave a little shriek when she saw Billy's inanimate form. The boys
pushed by her, dumped their burden upon the big hall sofa, and rushed
out before any questions could be asked. It was