Tommy, who somehow had forgotten his pain and thirst, felt embarrassed for a moment. He never before had made that announcement without its awakening at least a little sensation, even if it were no more than a boast in return.
"This is a dull old town," he finally said. "Many jolly boys around?"
"A good many," answered the boy.
"Do you get any time to play? I suppose though, you don't—you have to work most of the time," added Tommy, encouragingly.
"I work a good deal," said the boy. "I get time to play, however. I like it."
"Which, the work or the play?"
"Both."
"Well," said Tommy after a pause, "do you ever have any trouble with the boys you play with?"
"No," said the boy, "I don't think I do."
"Well, you must be a queer sort of a boy! Now, there's Bob Sykes,—perhaps you've noticed that my eye is hurt, and my face scratched some. Well, we had a little difficulty just a few moments ago; he insulted me, and I won't take an insult from any one. And I told him to shut up his mouth, and he sassed me back, and called me names, and said I was stuck up and thought I was better than the other boys, and he'd show me that I wasn't. Of course, I wouldn't stand that, so I've had a fight,—and it isn't the first one either."