FIGHT, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

Dick Lee was an unwise boy that afternoon.

He knew how to turn his hand to a great many things, thanks to his home-training; and a woodpile was one of the matters he had learned how to deal with, but he had not taken hold of that of Mrs. Myers with any heart for his work.

It was simply impossible for him to imagine that he was pulling in fish, or having any other kind of fun, while he was sawing wood, or even while splitting it.

There was, however, something almost vicious in the way he came down with his axe upon some of the more obstinate pieces.

"He will be a very useful boy," remarked Mrs. Myers, as she watched him from the window; "but I fear I shall have some difficulty with the others. They are very much inclined to be uppish."

Dick toiled faithfully; and he felt it as a kind of relief, late in the day, to be sent to the grocery-store, at the lower end of the village, with a basket that was to bring home the usual Saturday assortment for Mrs. Myers.

He did well enough in going; but on his way home, if the truth must be told, Dick Lee loitered dreadfully. It was so nice a day, and he had been so long at his woodpile, and he had had so little time to call his own that week.

Over on the green, the boys of the village were playing a sort of "match-game" of base-ball, with a picked nine from the academy; and there seemed no reason why Dick and his basket should not stroll along inside the barrier-fence of the green, and see them play it.

That was where his unwisdom showed itself; for among the boys who were not playing were Joe and Fuz Hart and all their "crowd," and this was the first time they had seen Dick on the green "all alone."

That would have been quite enough of itself, considering how black he was, and that he was a "new boy" at the academy; but the additional fact that he had his basket on his arm opened the way to trouble for him all the sooner.

He was standing still, on the walk near the fence, gazing at the batting and catching with so deep an interest that his mouth would stay open, when he suddenly found himself "surrounded."

"Hullo, Dick, what you got in your basket?"

"Groceries! Groceries! Fresh from Afriky."

"Let's see 'em."

"Jes' you keep off, now."

"Give us that basket."

"Don't you tech a thing!"

"What you got, Midnight?"

"None ob youah business. I's 'tendin' to mine. Put dat back, now, will you?"

Dick had promptly retreated against the fence, in his surprise and vexation, and was defending himself and his cargo vigorously, but he was sadly outnumbered.

They were a cowardly lot: for their all but helpless victim had even received several sharp blows, in return for his grasps and pushes; and the matter threatened to end unpleasantly for him, when suddenly Joe Hart felt his feet jerked from under him. Down he went, and over went Fuz on top of him; and then there were four or five boys all in a heap, with Dick's basket upset just beyond them, and Dick himself diving hither and thither after its late contents, and exclaiming,—

"Cap'n Dab's come! I's all right now. Jes' let me pick up some ob dese t'ings."

There was a resentful ring in the last remark, as if he were thinking of something like war after the recovery of his groceries; but it was indeed the voice of Dab Kinzer, shouting full and clear,—

"Pick 'em up, Dick! we're just in time."

A boy somewhat larger than the rest, a good half-head taller than
Dabney, but with a somewhat pasty and unhealthy complexion, had selected
Ford Foster, as the shortest of the new arrivals, and demanded,—

"What are you meddling for?" just as he aimed a clumsy blow at his head. That blow did not hit Ford; but a shorter young ruffian had also picked him out, perhaps for the same reason, and the hit he aimed reached its mark, for Ford had no extra pair of arms behind to box with. Frank Harley seemed, just then, to be remarkably busy with the heap of boys on the ground.

"Spat!"—that was the way something sounded; and Dab Kinzer added,—

"Go for that fellow on the grass, Ford: I'll take care of the long one."

"You will,—will you?"

Spat—spat—spat!

"Oh! I see: you don't know how to box; weak in the arms too. Better go home."

The tall boy was stepping backwards quite rapidly, with one hand on his nose, and the other swinging wildly in the air above him; and Ford was keeping the "fellow on the grass" from getting up, when all the noise around them suddenly ceased.

"Dr. Brandegee!"

"Where? Where?"

"Coming across the green, at the upper end."

"He's coming this way."

Several of the late assailants started on a run at once; but Dab Kinzer had caught a sharp whisper from Frank Harley, and he shouted,—

"No you won't, Joe Hart! Hold on, Fuz! That other chap must stay too.
Give Dick back his groceries."

"Dey's hooked a pile ob 'em," said Dick, his eyes dancing with triumph.
"Jes' make 'em hand ober."

"Do you mean to say we've been stealing?" fiercely demanded Joe.

"What, me? me, steal?" almost gasped Fuz.

"They wouldn't do such a thing as that," said Ford, not quite comprehending the situation.

"That's it," said Dab: "let 'em empty their pockets"—

Joe was indignantly turning inside out the side pockets of his neat "cut-away," and a small, brown-paper-covered parcel dropped upon the ground.

"Dem's de cloves," shouted Dick, as he darted forward, and picked it up.

The fingers of Fuz almost unconsciously imitated those of his elder brother, and with a like result.

"Dat's de cinnamon. If de oder feller didn't git de tea an' de sal'ratus! Whar's de nutmegs?"

These, too, were forthcoming, as well as a paper of "indigo blue" for the next Monday's washing, and other items which testified strongly as to "how much at a time" Mrs. Myers was in the habit of buying.

It was all over in less than half a minute, but Dick's assailants looked very much as if they wanted to sink right down through the grass.

"Go home, Joseph," said Ford; "go home, Foster. I'll write to your father that you're out of these things at your boarding-house. We buy all our groceries, where we live."

"I never touched a thing," roared Joe. "Somebody put 'em in my pockets."

"Don't say any thing more, Joseph," said Ford calmly. "If you don't get enough to eat, come over to our house: we won't let you starve. Give you all the bluing you want too."

They did not seem to need any just then; and there was such a crowd of boys gathering that they were glad to take Ford's advice, and hurry away. Even then a good deal more attention might have been paid them, all around, but for the excitement created in the mind of every boy who looked at the great strings of fish Dab and his friends had dropped when they went in to the rescue of Dick Lee.

Questions as to where they were caught, and how, poured upon the young fishermen so fast that it was not easy to dodge them all at once, or prevent a general stampede of the academy boys to Green Pond.

"They'd use up the boat in one day, and all the fish in the next," said
Dab to Frank; "but where'd you learn to do what you did for Fuz and
Joe?"

"Sleight-of-hand? Oh! one of father's Hindu converts had been a juggler. He taught me. They're the best in the world, but father doesn't like me to do much of it. We can have some fun with it yet, though. It came to me like a flash when I saw those things on the ground."

"Served 'em right. Spoiling 'em on the ground was next thing to stealing."

"Come on, boys," said Ford. "It's after five o'clock."

They were all glad to escape from the crowd, especially Dick Lee; and it was not until they were across the street that the tall form of Dr. Brandegee came slowly down past the ball-players. He seemed particularly interested in that game. It was currently reported, indeed, that he had been a first-class athlete in his younger days, and that he took a quiet half-hour in the morning with his dumb-bells now, before doing any thing at all with his Greek and Latin.

The "short-stop" was a well-built, sunburned student of at least twenty; and the ............