. When's the next game, boys?" He
turned to the row of faces.

"We've stopped playing baseball for this year," came in a chorus.

"Don't have football up here?"

"No, we haven't any team."

"Too bad. I might join you on that. Well, Mr. Keener, some of these days
you and I will go to a game together; we'll get that fixed up. Which of
you boys was it who so doughtily sped to the rescue of the young
maiden?"

"Jim Tabor; it was his sister the old man was after," piped up the boys.

"All right, and mighty little respect I would have had for him, if he
hadn't pitched in the way he did. Step up here, Jim."

Jim came forward, a little awkwardly, the other boys snickering. "Mr.
Keener, this is Jim Taber. I want you to look at him and tell me if,
when you were a boy of his size you had seen anyone threatening your
sister with a stick, you wouldn't have pitched in and fought for her for
all you were worth. You weren't any slouch in those days when it came to
fighting, I know. That's all, Jim, no apologies necessary. Now, Mr.
Keener, there is just one thing more. I don't believe these children are
really bad, only mischievous as you used to be when you were a
youngster. The girls, I know, are all ready to be friends, bless their
dear little hearts. As for the boys, I'll venture to say we can patch up
a treaty of peace with them. If you will promise to be a little less
free with that stick and not get a grouch on you every time a boy looks
your way, they will promise to play no more tricks. If they don't
promise, I'll give every mother's son of them Hail Columbia when I come
this way again," and by his looks, the boys knew he meant what he said.
They were conscious that Ben was standing up for old Nathan, and yet
that he meant to be perfectly fair to them. Ben looked up and down the
line. "Well?" he said.

The boys looked at one another. "If he'll promise, we will," spoke up
Jim Taber.

"It's a go," said Ben. "Now, Mr. Keener, it's up to you."

Old Nathan gave a grunt which might have meant anything, but Ben chose
to interpret it his own way. "I think that is meant for assent," he
said. "The gentleman seems to be speaking a foreign language to-day,
Choctaw, I should say, or maybe Hindostanee. However, it is all right.
Now, Mr. Keener, allow me, sir." He opened the door with a flourish and
handed the old man his stick. Without a word, Nathan took the stick and
went in, Ben bowing and scraping and saying, "Thank you for a