There had been certain jealousies and heartaches caused by the raven-locked young vixen with the winning eyes, but there had been no outspoken words of anger between these vassals in her train until there came excuse in other way, for your country lad is modest, and never admits that his ailing has aught to do with the grand passion.

But there had been a sharp debate over the proper ownership of a big gray squirrel at which they had shot their arrows from strong hickory bows together, and, with this excuse for fuel to the fire already smoldering, there soon came a great flame.
Neither would yield to one he knew in his heart addicted to winning, villainously, the affections of the young woman, and so they fought.
Unfortunately for Grant, Napoleon was at least in a measure right when he remarked that Providence always favored the heaviest battalions, and equally unfortunate for him that Alf, as resolute as he, was just a little heavier, was as tough of fiber at that stage of their young careers, and was, in a general way, what a patron of the prize ring would term the better man.

Grant went home licked as thoroughly as any country boy, not hyper-critical, could ask, and should have felt that all was lost save honor.

But he did not feel that way.

He did not consider honor at greater length than is generally done by any boy of ten, on the way to eleven, but he did want vengeance.