little time watching James sail the boat, and then strode down to the
edge of the pool. The boat was a model of a smack, with brown sails.
James had taken a good deal of pains with it, and it was an excellent
model.

Presently, in crossing, she stuck in a shallow some twelve feet from
the edge. The intervening stretch of water was a foot deep.

James picked up some small stones and threw them close to her, that the
tiny wave they made might float her off. He tried several times without
success.

"What's the use of such little stones as that?" Richard said roughly.
"You will never get her off like that;" and picking up one as large as
his fist, he threw it with some force.

It struck the mast, and broke it asunder, and knocked the boat on to
her side. James Walsham uttered an angry exclamation.

"You are a bad boy," Aggie said passionately. "You are a bad boy to
break my boat;" and she burst into tears.

"I didn't mean to do it, you little fool!" Richard said angrily, vexed
more at his own clumsiness than at the damage it had caused. "What are
you making such a beastly noise about?" and he gave her a push.

It was not a hard one, but the ground was slippery, and the child's
foot slipped, and she fell at the edge of the pool, her dress going
partly into the water. At the same instant, Richard reeled, and almost
fell beside her, from a heavy blow between the eyes from James's fist.

"You insolent blackguard!" he exclaimed furiously, "I will pay you for
this;" and he rushed at James.

The combat was not a long one. Hard work at rowing and sailing had
strengthened Jim Walsham's muscles, and more than balanced the
advantage in height and age of his adversary. He had had, too, more
than one fight in his time, and after the first sudden burst of
passion, caused by the overthrow of Aggie, he fought coolly and
steadily, while Richard rained his blows wildly, without attempting to
guard his face.

The child, on regaining her feet, ran crying loudly towards the beach,
making for two fishermen who were engaged in mending a net some
distance away; but before she could reach them to beg for aid for her
champion, the fight was over, terminating by a heavy right-handed hit
from James, which landed Richard Horton on his back in the pool.

James stood quietly awaiting a renewal of the conflict when he arose,
but Richard had had enough of it. One of his eyes was already puffed
and red, his nose bleeding, and his lip cut. His