cross examination, there was always a possibility of his father's taking
a hand, and that filled him with a real dismay. For Mr. Sam Cheatley,
the village butcher, was a man of violent temper, hasty in his judgments
and merciless in his punishment. There was a possibility of unhappy
consequences for Mop in spite of his practiced ability in deception.
Hence his nerves were set a-jangling, and his temper, never very
certain, was rather on edge. The pale face of the little boy annoyed
him, and the little whimsical smile which never quite left his face
confronted him like an insult.

"You're scared," reiterated Mop with increasing contempt, "and you know
you're scared. You ain't got any spunk anyway. You ain't got the spunk
of a louse." With a quick grip he caught the boy by the collar (he was
almost twice Larry's size), and with a jerk landed him on his back in a
brush heap. The fall brought Larry no physical hurt, but the laughter of
Joe and especially of big Ben, who in his eyes was something of a hero,
wounded and humiliated him. The little smile, however, did not leave his
face and he picked himself up and settled his coat about his collar.

"You ain't no good anyway," continued Mop, with the native instinct of
the bully to worry his victim. "You can't play nothin' and you can't
lick nobody in the whole school."

Both of these charges Larry felt were true. He was not fond of games and
never had he experienced a desire to win fame as a fighter.

"Aw, let him alone, can't you, Mop?" said big Ben. "He ain't hurtin' you
none."

"Hurtin' me," cried Mop, who for some unaccountable reason had worked