The Major | Page 7

with you, Larry?" inquired Mop, noticing his pale face.
"Oh, nothing; it's getting a little cold, I guess."
"Cold!" laughed Mop. "I guess you're getting scared all right."
To this Larry made no reply. He was too miserable, too tired to explain his state of mind. He was doubtful whether he could explain to Mop or to Joe his unwillingness to lie to his mother.
"It don't take much to scare you anyway," said Mop with an ugly grin.
The situation was not without its anxieties to Mop, for while he felt fairly confident as to his ability to meet successfully his mother's 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 himself into a rage. "He couldn't hurt me if he tried. I could lick him on my knees with one hand behind my back. I believe Joe there could lick him with one hand tied behind his back."
"I bet he can't," said Ben, measuring Larry with his eye and desiring to defend him from this degrading accusation. "I bet he'd put up a pretty fine scrap," continued Ben, "if he had to." Larry's heart warmed to his champion.
"Yes, if he had to," replied Mop with a sneer. "But he would never have to. He wouldn't fight a flea. Joe can lick him with one hand, can't you, Joe?"
"I donno. I don' want fight me," said Joe.
"No, I know you don't want to, but you could, couldn't you?" persisted Mop. Joe shrugged his shoulders. "Ha, I told you so. Hurrah for my man," cried Mop, clapping Joe on the back and pushing him toward Larry.
Ben began to scent sport. He was also conscious of a rising resentment against Mop's exultant tone and manner.
"I bet you," he said, "if Larry wanted to, he could lick Joe even if he had both hands, but if Joe's one hand is tied behind his back, why Larry would just whale the tar out of him. But Larry does not want to fight."
"No," jeered Mop, "you bet he don't, he ain't got it in him. I bet you he daren't knock a chip off Joe's shoulder, and I will tie Joe's hand behind his back with his belt. Now there he is, bring your man on. There's a chip on his shoulder too."
Larry looked at Joe, the little smile still on his face. "I don't want to fight Joe. What would I fight Joe for?" he said.
"I told you so," cried Mop, dancing about. "He ain't got no fight in him.
Take a dare, Take a dare, Chase a cat, And hunt a hare."
Ben looked critically at Larry as if appraising the quality of his soul. "Joe can't lick you with one hand tied behind his back, can he, Larry?"
"I don't want to fight Joe," persisted Larry still smiling.
"Ya, ya," persisted Mop. "Here, Joe, you knock this chip off Larry's shoulder." Mop placed the gauge of battle on Larry's shoulder. "Go ahead, Joe."
To Joe a fight with a friend or a foe was an event of common occurrence. With even a more dangerous opponent than Larry he would not have hesitated. For to decline a fight was with Joe utterly despicable. So