but what was, at heart, the very flowering of arrant cowardice, springing as it did from his sheer terror of all indetermination.
He turned, and with a passionate little swear-word, let fly his rubber window-cleaner, straight into the thick of the storm-cloud which refused to let forth its bolt on him.
There was a second of nimble scrambling aside, and the iron-shod rubber hit with a resounding thud on the fence-boards beyond.
Then the storm-cloud flashed forth its lightning. This it did in the form of Piggie Brennan, for two long years the leader of the town gang, the well-tested and duly accredited king and chief of his little tribe.
Being already coatless, he paid sufficient tribute to tradition by flinging down his well-frayed straw hat, and walking directly and savagely over to where Lonely awaited his coming. It was plain that this was not to be the mere shuffle and bluster of the every-day boy fight.
"I kin lick you!" said Piggie, with profound and purposeful conviction.
"Then get at it!" cried Lonely, as he put up his guard and wondered whether or not the
