ce more, and see what I'll do," persisted Johnny.

"I won't do it."

"You dasn't say it again."

"Perhaps I dasn't; at any rate, I shan't."

"Do you mean to say I hooked them fish?" exclaimed Johnny, desperately,
for it seemed as though he must do something to vindicate his injured
honor.

"That's just what I did say."

But Tommy was so confoundedly cool that his fellow-angler had some
doubts about the expediency of "pitching into him." Probably a vision
of defeat flashed through his excited brain and discretion seemed the
better part of valor. Yet he was not disposed to abandon his position,
and advanced a pace or two toward his provoking companion; a movement
which, to an unpracticed eye, would indicate a purpose to do something.

"Don't fight, Tommy," said the little ragged girl.

"I don't mean to fight, Katy,"--Johnny, at these words, assumed an
artistic attitude, ready to strike the first blow,--"only if Johnny
hits me, I shall knock him into the middle of next week."

Johnny did not strike. He was a prudent young man.

"Don't fight, Johnny," repeated the girl, turning to the excited
aspirant for the honors of the ring.

"Do you suppose I'll let him tell me I hooked them fish?" blustered
Johnny.

"He didn't mean anything."

"Yes, I did," interposed Tommy. "He caught 'em on a hook; so of course
he hooked em. I hooked mine too."

"Is that what you meant?" asked Johnny, a broad grin overspreading his
dirty face, and his fists suddenly expanding into dirty paws again.

"That's just what I meant; and your skull is as thick as a two-inch
plank, or you would have seen what I meant."

"I see now."

Johnny was not disposed to resent this last insinuation about the
solidity of his cranium. He was evidently too glad to get out of the
scrape without a broken head or a bloody nose. Johnny was a bully, and
he had a bully's reputation to maintain; but he never fought when the
odds were against him; and he had a congressman's skill in backing out
before the water got too hot. On the whole, he rather enjoyed the pun;
and he had the condescension to laugh heartily, though somewhat
unnaturally, at the jest.

"Will you give me a flounder, Tommy?" said the little ragged girl, as
she glanced into his well-filled basket.

"What do you want of him, Katy?" asked Tommy turning round and gazing
up into her sad, pale face.

Katy hesitated; her bosom heaved, and her lips compressed, as though
she feared to answer the