could not be coerced under his authority.

"What is it all about?" the postmaster called, loudly, above the
hubbub, to Anderson.

Anderson shook his head. He was listening to the fusillade of
taunting, threatening yells, with his forehead knitted. Then all
at once he understood. Over and over, with every pitch possible
to the boyish threats, the cry intermingling and crossing until
all the vowels and consonants overlapped, the boys repeated:
"Yerlie--yerlie--yerlie--" They clipped the reproach short; they
elongated it into a sliding thrill. From one boy, larger than the
others, and whose voice was changing, came at intervals the demand,
in a hoarse, cracking treble, with sudden descents into gulfs of
bass: "Take it ba-ck! Take it ba-ck!"

Always in response to that demand of the large boy, who was always
the one who danced closest to the boy at bay, came the reply, in a
voice like a bird's, "Die first--die first."

After a most energetic dash of this large boy, Anderson stepped up
and caught him by the shoulder on his retreat from the determined
little fist. He knew the large boy; he was a nephew of Henry Lee,
whose wife had invaded the Carroll house in the absence of the family.

"See here, Harry," said Anderson, "what is this about, eh?"

The large boy, who, in spite of his size, was a youngster, looked at
once terrifiedly and pugnaciously into his face, and beginning with a
whimper of excuse to Anderson, ended with a snarl of wrath for the