'I won't,' replied Stephen.

'Thee shalt,' cried Tim, with an oath.

'I won't,' Stephen repeated stedfastly.

'Then we'll fight for it,' said Tim, clenching his fists and squaring his
arms, while the men and boys formed a ring round the two lads, and one
and another spoke encouragingly to Stephen, who was somewhat slighter and
younger than Tim. He had beaten Tim once before, but that was months ago;
yet the blood rushed into Stephen's face, and he set his lips together
firmly. Up yonder, just within the range of his sight, was Fern's Hollow,
with its neglected garden, and his supper waiting for him; and here was
the heavy sack of coals to be carried for a mile, or the choice of
fighting with Tim.

'I wish I knew what I ought to do,' he said, speaking aloud, though
speaking to himself.

'Ay, ay, lad,' cried Black Thompson; 'it's a shame to make thee fight,
and thy father not cold in the graveyard yet. I say, Tim, what is it thee
wants?'

'These coals,' answered Tim doggedly, 'are to be carried to the New Farm;
and if Stevie Fern won't take them one mile, he must fight me afore he
goes off this bank.'

'Now, lads, I'll judge between ye this time,' said Black Thompson.
'Stevie shall carry them to the end of Red Lane, and cut across the hill
home: that's not much out of the way; and if Tim makes him go one step