with a truculent scowl and a suggestive licking of blubber lips.

Dam surveyed him coolly.

Of thick build, the bully was of thicker wit and certainly of no
proven courage. Four years older than Dam and quite four inches
taller, he had never dreamed of molesting him before. Innumerable as
were the stories of his brutalities to the smallest "squeakers" and of
his cruel practical jokes on new boys, there were no stories of his
fighting, such as there were about Ormond Delorme, of Dam's form,
whose habit it was to implore bigger boys of their courtesy to fight
him, and to trail his coat where there were "chaws" about.

"I'm going to torture you, Funky. Every day you must come to me and
_beg_ me to do it. If you don't come and pray for it I'll come to
_you_ and you'll get it double and treble. If you sneak you'll get it
quadru--er--quadrupedal--and also be known as Sneaky as well as Funky.
See?" he continued.

"How will you torture me, Harberth, please?" asked Dam meekly, as he
measured the other with his eye, noted his puffiness, short reach, and
inward tendency of knee.

"Oh! lots of ways," was the reply. "Dry shaves, tweaks, scalpers,
twisters, choko, tappers, digs, benders, shinners, windos, all sorts."

"I don't even know what they are," moaned Dam.

"Poor Kid!" sympathized the bully, "you soon will, though. Dry shaves
are beautiful. You die dotty in about five minutes if I don't see fit