"Don't fight, Tommy," said the little ragged girl.

"I don't mean to fight, Katy,"--Johnny, at these words, assumed
an artistic attitude, ready to strike the first blow,--"only if
Johnny hits me, I shall knock him into the middle of next week."

Johnny did not strike. He was a prudent young man.

"Don't fight, Johnny," repeated the girl, turning to the excited
aspirant for the honors of the ring.

"Do you suppose I'll let him tell me I hooked them fish?"
blustered Johnny.

"He didn't mean anything."

"Yes, I did," interposed Tommy. "He caught 'em on a hook; so of
course he hooked em. I hooked mine too."

"Is that what you meant?" asked Johnny, a broad grin
overspreading his dirty face, and his fists suddenly expanding
into dirty paws again.

"That's just what I meant; and your skull is as thick as a
two-inch plank, or you would have seen what I meant."

"I see now."

Johnny was not disposed to resent this last insinuation about the
solidity of his cranium. He was evidently too glad to get out of