ll have the great life o't."

"Ph-tt!" said Swipey Broon, and planted a gob of mud right in the middle
of his brow.

"Hoh! hoh! hoh!" yelled the others. They hailed Swipey's action with
delight because, to their minds, it exactly met the case. It was the one
fit retort to his bouncing.

Beneath the wet plunk of the mud John started back, bumping his head
against the wall behind him. The sticky pellet clung to his brow, and he
brushed it angrily aside. The laughter of the others added to his wrath
against Swipey.

"What are you after?" he bawled. "Don't try your tricks on me, Swipey
Broon. Man, I could kill ye wi' a glower!"

In a twinkling Swipey's jacket was off, and he was dancing in his shirt
sleeves, inviting Gourlay to come on and try't.

"G'way, man," said John, his face as white as the wall; "g'way, man!
Don't have _me_ getting up to ye, or I'll knock the fleas out of your
duds!"

Now the father of Swipey--so called because he always swiped when
batting at rounders--the father of Swipey was the rag and bone merchant
of Barbie, and it was said (with what degree of truth I know not) that
his home was verminous in consequence. John's taunt was calculated,
therefore, to sting him to the quick.

The scion of the Broons, fired for the honour of his house, drove
straight at the mouth of the insulter. But John jouked to the side, and
Swipey skinned his knuckles on the wall.

For a moment he rocked to and fro, doubled up in pain, crying "_Ooh!_"
with a rueful face, and squeezing his hand between his thighs to dull
its sharper agonies. Then with redoubled wrath bold Swipey hurled him
at the foe. He grabbed Gourlay's head, and shoving it down between his
knees, proceeded to pommel his bent back, while John bellowed angrily
(from between Swipey's legs), "Let me up, see!"

Swipey let him up. John came at him with whirling arms, but Swipey
jouked and gave him one on the mouth that split his lip. In another
moment Gourlay was grovelling on his hands and knees, and triumphant
Swipey, astride his back, was bellowing "Hurroo!"--Swipey's father was
an Irishman.

"Let him up, Broon!" cried Peter Wylie--"let him up, and meet each other
square!"

"Oh, I'll let him up," cried Swipey, and leapt to his feet with
magnificent pride. He danced round Gourlay with his fists sawing the
air. "I could fight ten of him!--Come on, Gourlay!" he cried, "and I'll
poultice the road wi' your brose."

John rose, glaring. But when Swipe