on face, on head, on ribs; and Kit seemed transformed into a living incarnation of physical dynamics. In vain did Morgan try to recover himself. Kit realised that it was the opportunity of his fighting career, and at the first return blow he proceeded to put into practice those arts which he had learned from his now deposed trainers. The hold, the heave, the click—it is not to be supposed that he knew them by these technical terms, but he executed them all with an effectiveness that was maddening and bewildering. Morgan would have been glad to cry quits, but nothing would satisfy Kit now but to see him literally in the dust; and watching his chance he suddenly sprang upon the other's bulky frame, locking himself firmly about his waist by the knees, and with a quick downward and backward movement of his hands and arms, he pulled Morgan s legs from under him and sent him to the ground an inert mass, himself falling with him and literally pinning the young blusterer to earth.
For a few quiet seconds the two combatants eyed each other curiously; Morgan, still dazed from the concussion of the fall, stared at Kit in a half appealing way, while Kit, burning with excitement and conscious of victory, returned the look with one of calm disdain.
"What is my name now?"
"K—K—Kit!"
Then he calmly rose and went home and made his peace with Judy.
II
Need it be told that Kit was a victor in the next day's sports?
When a boy has thrashed his enemy and become good friends with his mother, who and what can beat him?
