uld become the
target for every pugnacious lad in the school, and Jack went home
regularly with a bloody nose or scratched face, as a result of some
misunderstanding. Not only would he get larruped by the bigger boys, but
little fellows half his size walloped him good and plenty. Then the
teacher had to make an example of him with the ruler, and finally his
father finished up the job in the barn or across his knee with the hair
brush. The hair brush was the handiest thing Jack ever encountered in
his "spare (not) the rod" career. One day he went home with a frightful
cut in his lip where some "bully" of the school had kicked him. His
father lost all patience and Jack pleaded for a hearing.

"Why do you tell me it is wicked to fight and punish me for getting
licked? I can lick any boy in the school, but have never raised my hand
yet, because you told me not to, and they pick on me all the time."

It was a revelation to the parent and he wondered at his own obtuseness.
One instruction, one little lesson to be a man, he gave Jack: "Do not
fight for the sake of showing off, or to be a 'bully,' but defend
yourself always."

Jack was all excitement, and forgot his swollen lip. His father
continued: "And when you find you have to defend yourself, strike
straight from the shoulder and hit between the eyes, downward, like
that," and the stern old man took a crack at the side of the barn and
ripped a board off, besides nearly breaking his knuckle. Jack went to
school that afternoon, and at recess, when a big, red-headed bully,
nicknamed "Cross-eyed Whittaker," commenced to tease and banter him,
Jack edged away as usual, but with eyes ablaze and fist clinched. He saw
that the "bully" was bent on showing off, and knew the time had come to
make the first stand for Jack. Whittaker was about the same height, but
much heavier in build than Jack. Finally, as the big one got nearer and
nearer and became more and more offensive, Jack stood his ground,
looking the "bully" over from head to foot, and suddenly said:

"You miserable coward, you have picked on me long enough. Now let me
alone or take the licking that you deserve."

The other boys, of course, jumped up and gathered in a ring. "Fight!
Fight!" was yelled by a hundred throats, as all rushed to where the now
angry combatants faced each other. Jack stood poised on one foot ready
for any emergency. All at once he spied the crony of the "bully"
sneaking through the crowd of boys