for?"

There was more crashing in the brush, and two women erupted upon
the scene, one in flight, the other pursuing. Almost ere they
could realize it, the little group found itself merged in the
astounding conflict that covered, if not the face of creation, at
least all the visible landscape of Weasel Park.

The fleeing woman stumbled in rounding the end of a picnic bench,
and would have been caught had she not seized Mary's arm to
recover balance, and then flung Mary full into the arms of the
woman who pursued. This woman, largely built, middle-aged, and
too irate to comprehend, clutched Mary's hair by one hand and
lifted the other to smack her. Before the blow could fall, Billy
had seized both the woman's wrists.

"Come on, old girl, cut it out," he said appeasingly. "You're in
wrong. She ain't done nothin'."

Then the woman did a strange thing. Making no resistance, but
maintaining her hold on the girl's hair, she stood still and
calmly began to scream. The scream was hideously compounded of
fright and fear. Yet in her face was neither fright nor fear. She
regarded Billy coolly and appraisingly, as if to see how he took
it--her scream merely the cry to the clan for help.

"Aw, shut up, you battleax!" Bert vociferated, trying to drag her
off by the shoulders.

The result was that The four rocked back and forth, while the