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Excerpt: He saw Brice was a half-head shorter than himself and at least thirty pounds lighter. Nor did Brice’s figure betray any special muscular development. Apparently, there could be but one outcome to such a battle. The man’s fists clenched, afresh. His big muscles tightened. Brice saw the menace and spoke again. “It’s only fair to warn you,” said he, gently, “that I shall thrash you worse than ever you’ve been thrashed before in all your down-at-heel life. When I was a boy, I saw George Siler beat up five men who tackled him. Siler wasn’t a big man. But he had made a life-study of leverage. And it served him better than if he’d toted a machine gun. I studied under him. And then, a bit, under a jui-jutsu man. You’ll have less chance against me than that poor collie had against you. I only mention it as a friendly warning. Best let things rest as they are. Come, puppy!” he chirped to the highly interested dog. “Let’s be on our way. Perhaps we can find the people who lost you.