Taro’s eyes evaded his father. For some time he had been watching intently the American boy from his peep-hole in the paper shoji. As he appeared at the call of his father, his eyes were still riveted upon his hated rival. Suddenly he made a catlike spring in the boy’s direction and landed sprawling on Billy’s chest. For the astonished Billy, tripped unawares, was lying on his back. A great flame of indignation, and yet almost unwilling admiration, stirred within the heart of the prize fighter of a certain Chicago school.
Could it be possible that this little mite of a Jap was sitting victoriously on his chest? He growled and moved a bit, but Taro, wildly trying to keep in mind the few jiu-jitsu tricks he had lately learned, touched the boy’s arm in a sensitive place.
Billy rose like a lion shaking off a troublesome cub. As Taro caught him about the calf of his leg, Billy reached down and took the little Japanese boy by the waist and coolly tucked him under his arm; then he marched up and down, singing at the top of his voice:
“Yankee Doodle came to town,
Riding on a pony—
Took a little Jappy Jap
Who was a bit too funny!”
Here it may be well to explain that Billy, besides being the prize fighter of his school, was also the class poet.
Mrs. Kurukawa rescued the little “Jappy Jap” from her big son’s hands, and gave the latter a reproving look, saying:
“Oh, Billy, is that the way to treat your little brother?”