Silvey shouted derisively. "'Member the time you got hit in the eye with a snowball? Went home, bawling 'Ma-m-a-a, Ma-m-a-a.' Fine general you'll make!"
Sid brandished his fists with a show of braggadocio. "Want to fight about it?"
"Na-a-w," came the sneering reply. "Don't fight with cowards."
John turned upon the pair imperiously. "Silvey'n I'll be generals, just as I said. Cut out the quarreling. If you don't like it, you don't have to. Want to quit?"
Sid mumbled a sulky denial and retreated to the outer edge of the little group. There he poured out his troubles to the elder Harrison boy. John and Bill were always bossing things; ought to let him lead once in a while; thought they were the earth, anyway.
John shot him a keen glance and whirled upon Silvey.
"First choose!" he shouted.
"'Tain't fair," objected his rival. "I wasn't ready. Draw lots."
Perry Alford plucked a half-dozen blades of grass of varying lengths and folded them carefully. Then he held one, tightly closed, chubby hand first to Bill and then to John. The leaders compared their prizes. Silvey gave an exultant yell and beckoned to a gawky, loosely jointed lad who stood a little apart from the rest of the gang.
"Come on, Skinny! You're on my side."