ossibly a little straighter and stouter, but still the
same foe his fist had sent to the ground. Jabe knew of no reason why he
could not easily repeat his victory, and he burned to do so in the
presence of his admirers. Percy's harmless query roused him to
unreasoning anger.

"What for?" he mimicked. "What for? Why, because I always intend to
finish what I begin; and I had you only half-licked when they pulled me
off. Now I'm going to polish you up to the queen's taste. Hustle into
that barn!"

Percy allowed himself to be herded through the open door; it might have
been noticed, however, that he was careful not to turn his back to Jabe,
and that he stepped springily, with his feet well apart. Once inside,
he slid his sole over the hayseed that covered the floor; it was no
slipperier than the carpet of needles in that glade of the evergreens
where he had practised daily with his improvised punching-bag since the
second week in July. A quick glance about photographed on his brain the
details of the arena in which he was so soon to play the gladiator.

Jabe misunderstood the glance, and it increased his eagerness to begin
the fray.

"Afraid, are you?" he sneered. "Looking for some way out? Well, there
isn't any besides this door. Line up across it, boys, and trip him if he
tries to bolt before I get through with him. The rat's cornered at last,
and now he's _got_ to fight. Peel off that coat, Mister! Move quick. I
don't want to stop here all day!"

Percy deliberately drew off the garment, folded it into a neat bundle,
and laid it, with his cap, on a barrel in a corner of the floor. He had
on a closely fitting black jersey, trousers held up by a belt, and
rubber-soled tennis sneakers. This costume was not accidental. It had
been donned that morning with an eye to possibilities and in accordance
with previous solitary rehearsals. Thus far, events could not have
suited him better if he had planned them.

His deliberate motions increased Jabe's anger.

"You'll move faster than that when I get after you," he sneered, "or
it'll be over so quick that there won't be any fun in it. Now put up
your fists, for I'm going to lick you within an inch of your life! Guard
that door, boys!"

His grinning satellites lined up across the opening, two deep, eyes and
mouths wide open. In the front rank Percy recognized the imp who had
burnt his coat, Jabe's brother, whose chastisement had started the
trouble. The lad was dancing up and