so unpleasantly suggestive of
further difficulty, that the youngster's advice was taken without a
word.

"Here it is. I've found my pocket-book," said Annie, as her enemy made
the best of his way off.

"He did not hurt you?"

"No, he only scared me, except that I s'pose my arm will be black and
blue where he caught it. Thank you ever so much, Dabney! You're a brave
boy. Why, he's almost twice your size."

"Yes, but the butt end of my rod is twice as hard as his head," replied
Dabney. "I was almost afraid to strike him with it, because I might have
broken his skull."

"You didn't even break your rod."

"No, and now I must run back for the other pieces and the tip. I dropped
them in the road."

"Please, Dabney, see me home first," said Annie. "I know it's foolish
and there isn't a bit of danger, but I must confess to being rather
frightened."

Dab Kinzer was a little the proudest boy on Long Island, as he marched
along in compliance with her request. He went no further than the gate,
to be sure, and then returned for the rest of his rod, but, before he
got home, Keziah hurried back from a call on Mrs. Foster, bringing a
tremendous account of Dab's heroism, and then his own pride was a mere
drop in the bucket compared to that of his mother.

"Dabney is growing wonderfully," she remarked to Samantha. "He'll be a
man before any of us know it."

If Dabney had been a man, however, or if Ham Morris or Mr. Foster had
been at home, the matter would not have been permitted to drop there.
That tramp ought to have been followed, arrested and shut up where his
vicious propensities could have been restrained for a while. As it was,
after hurrying on for a short distance and making sure that he was not
pursued, he sprang over the fence and sneaked into the nearest clump of
bushes. From this safe covert he watched Dab Kinzer's return after the
lighter joints of his rod, and then even dared to crouch along the fence
until he saw which house his young conqueror went into.

"That's where he lives, is it?" exclaimed the tramp, with a scowl of the
most ferocious vengeance. "Well, they'll have fun before bed-time, or
I'll know the reason why."

The bushes were a good enough hiding-place for the time, and he went
back to them with the air and manner of a man whose mind is made up to
something.

Ford Foster and Frank Harley were absent in the city that day, with Mr.
Foster, attending to some affairs of Frank's, and when the t