Sam was about two inches taller than Tony, red haired and freckled, with a big frame, loosely put together. He was a born bully; and many were the tricks he had played on smaller boys in the village. He liked his place at the hotel because he was no longer obliged to go to school; but he was too lazy to fulfill the duties satisfactorily. His father was a blacksmith, of surly disposition, very much like Sam's, who was generally believed to ill-treat his wife, a meek, uncomplaining woman, who filled the position of a household drudge.

Sam strutted into the yard with the air of a proprietor. He took no particular notice of Tony, but accosted James. The latter made a signal to Tony to be silent.

"Well, have you just got along?" asked the hostler.

"Ye-es," drawled Sam.

"What made you go home yesterday afternoon, and not come back?"

"I didn't feel well," said Sam, nonchalantly.

"What was the matter with you?"

"I had a sort of headache."

"Do you think Mr. Porter can afford to pay you wages and let you go home three times a week in the middle of the afternoon?"

"I couldn't work when I was sick of course," said Sam.

"You're mighty delicate, getting sick two or three times a week."

"Couldn't help it," said Sam, unconcerned.

"I suppose you have come to work this morning?"

"Ye-es, but I can't work very hard—I ain't quite got over my headache."

"Then you'll be glad to hear that you won't have to work at all."

"Ain't there anything to do?" asked Sam, with an air of relief.

"Yes, there's plenty to do, but your services ain't required. You're discharged!"

"What!" exclaimed Sam, his eyes lighting up with anger.

"Mr. Porter's got tired of your delicate health; it interferes too much with business. He's got a tougher boy to take your place."

"Where is he?" demanded Sam, with an ominous frown.

"There," answered the hostler, pointing out our hero, who stood quietly listening to the conversation.

Sam regarded Tony with a contemptuous scowl. So this was the boy who had superseded him. He hated him already for his presumption in venturing to take his place.

"Who are you?" he demanded, roughly.

"Your successor," answered Tony, coolly.

He knew that his answer would make Sam very angry, but he was not afraid of him, and felt under no particular obligations to be polite.

"You won't be my successor long," retorted Sam.

"Why not?"

"What business had you to take my place?"

"The landlord hired me."

"I don't care if he did. He hired me first."

"Then you'd better go to him and complain about it. It's none of my business——"

"It's my business," said Sam, with emphasis.

"Just as you like."

"Will you give up the place?"

"No," said Tony. "You must think I'm a fool. What should I give it up for?"

"Because it belongs to me."

"I don't see that; I suppose Mr. Porter has a right to hire anybody he likes."

"He had no right to give you my place."

"That's his business. What shall I do next, James?"

"Go to the barn and shake down some hay for the horses."

"All right."

Sam walked off, deeply incensed, muttering threats of vengeance against Tony.

Three days later a boy entered the stable, and calling for Tony, presented the following missive:

"If you ain't a coward, meet me to-morrow night at seven o'clock, back of the school house, and we'll settle, by fighting, which shall have the place, you or I. If you get whipped, you must clear out, and leave it to me.

"Sam Payson."

Tony showed the note to the hostler.

"Well, Tony, what are you going to do about it?" asked James, curiously.

"I'll be on hand," said Tony, promptly. "He won't find it so easy to whip me as he thinks."