ng the stroll back alone
in the moonlight had been of lofty things, of poetry and fame and
high emprise; giggling Gerties had no place in them. It was distinctly
different with Sam Thatcher.

They crashed together, gasped and recoiled.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" exclaimed Albert.

"Can't you see where you're goin', you darned Portygee half-breed?"
demanded Sam.

Albert, who had stepped past him, turned and came back.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I said you was a darned half-breed, and you are. You're a no-good
Portygee, like your father."

It was all he had time to say. For the next few minutes he was too busy
to talk. The Speranzas, father and son, possessed temperament; also they
possessed temper. Sam's face, usually placid and good-natured, for Sam
was by no means a bad fellow in his way, was fiery red. Albert's, on the
contrary, went perfectly white. He seemed to settle back on his heels
and from there almost to fly at his insulter. Five minutes or so later
they were both dusty and dirty and dishevelled and bruised, but Sam was
pretty thoroughly licked. For one thing, he had been taken by surprise
by his adversary's quickness; for another, Albert's compulsory training
in athletics at school gave him an advantage. He was by no means an
unscarred victor, but victor he was. Sam was defeated, and very much
astonished. He leaned against the cranberry house and held on to his
nose. It had been a large nose in the beginning, it was larger now.

Albert stood before him, his face--where it was not a pleasing
combination of black and blue--still white.

"If you--if you speak of my father or me again like that," he panted,
"I'll--I'll kill you!"

Then he strode off, a bit wobbly on his legs, but with dignity.

Oddly enough, no one except the two most interested ever knew of this
encounter. Albert, of course, did not tell. He was rather ashamed of it.
For the son of Miguel Carlos Speranza to conquer dragons was a worthy
and heroic business, but there seemed to be mighty little heroism in
licking Sam Thatcher behind 'Lije Doane's cranberry shack. And Sam did
not tell. Gertie next day confided that she didn't care two cents for
that stuck-up Al Speranza, anyway; she had let him see her home only
because Sam had danced so many times with Elsie Wixon at the ball
that night. So Sam said nothing concerning the fight, explaining the
condition of his nose by saying that he had run into something in the
dark. And he did not app