he?" remarked Nick Lang, with a suggestive wink at his crony, Leon.
"Mebbe, now, I might badger him into having a friendly little bout with
fists through that kid. As the rest of you happen to know I've tried
about every other way to make the coward fight, and he only gives me
one of his smiles, and says he's opposed to scrapping. That wise
mother of his has tied little Hughy to her apron strings, seems like;
but I'll get him yet, see if I don't."

The other fellows exchanged significant looks and nods. Hugh Morgan
had apparently always been more or less of an enigma to them. They
knew he was no coward, for only the last winter he had leaped boldly
into the river at the risk of his own life, and saved little Tommy
Crabbe just when the unfortunate child was about to be drawn by the
fierce current under the ice. Still, no one had even known Hugh to be
engaged in a fight. There was some deep object back of his reluctance
so to demean himself, most of the fellows believed, and as he was so
well liked, they respected his motives.

Just then keen-eyed Andy McGuffey was heard to cry out:

"Speak of an angel and you'll hear the rustle of his wings, and there
comes our Hugh right now. See, he's waving his hand to us, and is
hurrying along at almost a run. Say, it may be he's fetching some news
from the committee, because he told me he had an idea they'd reach an
understanding this afternoon. Yes, he's looking mighty wise, so I
reckon we're going to hear something drop."