proving the negative by any other. Ripton came on the unerring fist
again and again; and if it was true, as he said in short colloquial
gasps, that he required as much beating as an egg to be beaten
thoroughly, a fortunate interruption alone saved our friend from
resembling that substance. The boys heard summoning voices, and beheld
Mr. Morton of Poer Hall and Austin Wentworth stepping towards them.

A truce was sounded, jackets were caught up, guns shouldered, and off
they trotted in concert through the depths of the wood, not stopping till
that and half-a-dozen fields and a larch plantation were well behind
them.

When they halted to take breath, there was a mutual study of faces.
Ripton's was much discoloured, and looked fiercer with its natural war-
paint than the boy felt. Nevertheless, he squared up dauntlessly on the
new ground, and Richard, whose wrath was appeased, could not refrain from
asking him whether he had not really had enough.

"Never!" shouts the noble enemy.

"Well, look here," said Richard, appealing to common sense, "I'm tired of
knocking you down. I'll say you're not a fool, if you'll give me your
hand."

Ripton demurred an instant to consult with honour, who bade him catch at
his chance.

He held out his hand. "There!" and the boys grasped hands and were fast
friends. Ripton had gained his point, and Richard decidedly had the best
of it. So, they were on equal ground. Both, could claim a victory,