lalah would ﬁnish me. I got down and was ready for ﬂight. I knew if I got a start the old man could not catch me, but I did not run away. I stood behind my brother to encourage and help him all I could. My brother seemed to lose all fear. He looked like a tiger for ﬁerceness. It was a battle for life both his own and mine. Up went the sticks. I expected to see them come down crash and one or the other of the combatants drop under a blow. While the sticks were in the air, and before a blow was struck, the old man wilt-ed. He got scared and lowered his stick, and pleaded to be let go away. My brother did not strike him, but he was very nearly doing it. The old man went away as fast as he could. When we went home,” we report- ed. They were all glad we escaped without getting hurt, and with- out hurting the old man. He never bothered us much after that. It was a brave thing for my brother to do. He was only about four- teen years of age. The crazy man was a stout strong man. If I had been alone, or only my lame brother, Johnny, or small boys with me, we would likely have had some bruises to show when we got home.