Bobby, his heart beating a little more rapidly than usual, thrust himself in front of the other.
"Ho!" cried the other, the joy of battle lighting up his dancing blue eyes. "Want to fight? I can lick you with one hand tied behind me."
"This is my yard," said Bobby, "and that is my gun! And besides I didn't ask you to come in here, anyway."
"Well, I can lick you, anyway," replied the other with unanswerable logic.
The girl had been watching them narrowly, her hands on her hips, her head on one side. Now she interfered.
"Johnnie, come off!" said she sharply. "No fighting! You're bigger than he is, and it is his yard and his gun, and, anyway, he isn't afraid of you."
Johnnie looked at her doubtfully, then turned to Bobby as to a companion under tyranny.
"That's just like her," he complained. "She always spoils things! You ain't smaller than I am, anyhow. Never mind, we'll try it sometime when she ain't around. Let's see your old gun. I won't point it at anybody. Show me how she works."
Bobby, a little stiffly at first, for he could not understand fighting without animosity, showed them how it worked.
"Let me try her," urged Johnnie.