But when he had to stop for breath and sat up to look again, he saw that it wasn't the old gray Chuck at all. It was a younger Chuck and much smaller than the old gray Chuck. It was smaller than Johnny himself.
“He'll be all the easier to whip,” muttered Johnny, as he started on again, never once thinking of how unfair it would be to fight with one smaller than himself. That was because he was so angry. Anger never is fair.
Pretty soon he reached the lone elm-tree. The stranger wasn't to be seen! No, Sir, the stranger wasn't anywhere in sight. Johnny Chuck sat up and looked this way and looked that way, but the stranger was nowhere in sight.
“Pooh!” said Johnny Chuck, “He's afraid to fight! He's a coward. But he can't get away from me so easily. He's hiding, and I'll find him and then—-” Johnny didn't finish, but he ground his teeth, and it wasn't a pleasant sound to hear.
So Johnny Chuck hunted for the stranger, and the longer he hunted the angrier he grew. Somehow the stranger managed to keep out of his sight. He was almost ready to give up, when he almost stumbled over the stranger, hiding in a little clump of bushes. And then a funny thing happened. What do you think it was?
Why, all the anger left Johnny Chuck. His hair no longer stood on end. He didn't know why, but all of a sudden he felt foolish, very foolish indeed.
“Who are you?” he demanded gruffly.
“I—I'm Polly Chuck,” replied the stranger, in a small, timid voice.