Within five days from his first encounter with Rupe Collins, Penrod had become unbearable.  He even almost alienated Sam Williams, who for a time submitted to finger twisting and neck squeezing and the new style of conversation, but finally declared that Penrod made him “sick.”  He made the statement with fervour, one sultry afternoon, in Mr. Schofield’s stable, in the presence of Herman and Verman.

“You better look out, ’bo,” said Penrod, threateningly.  “I’ll show you a little how we do up at the Third.”

“Up at the Third!” Sam repeated with scorn.  “You haven’t ever been up there.”

“I haven’t?” cried Penrod.  “I haven’t?”

“No, you haven’t!”

“Looky here!” Penrod, darkly argumentative, prepared to perform the eye-to-eye business.  “When haven’t I been up there?”

“You haven’t never been up there!” In spite of Penrod’s closely approaching nose Sam maintained his ground, and appealed for confirmation.  “Has he, Herman?”

“I don’ reckon so,” said Herman, laughing.

“What!” Penrod transferred his nose to the immediate vicinity of Herman’s nose.  “You don’t reckon so, ’bo, don’t you?  You better look out how you reckon around here!  You UNDERSTAN’ that, ’bo?”

Herman bore the eye-to-eye very well; indeed, it seemed to please him, for he continued to laugh while Verman chuckled delightedly.  The brothers had been in the country picking berries for a week, and it happened that this was their first experience of the new manifestation of Penrod.

“Haven’t I been up at the Third?” the sinister Penrod demanded.

“I don’ reckon so.  How come you ast me?”

“Didn’t you just hear me say I been up there?”

“Well,” said Herman mischievously, “hearin’ ain’t believin’!”

Penrod clutched him by the back of the neck, but Herman, laughing loudly, ducked and released himself at once, retreating to the wall.

“You take that back!” Penrod shouted, striking out wildly.

“Don’ git mad,” begged the small darky, while a number of blows falling upon his warding arms failed to abate his amusement, and a sound one upon the cheek only made him laugh the more unrestrainedly.  He behaved exactly as if Penrod were tickling him, and his brother, Verman, rolled with joy in a wheelbarrow.  Penrod pummelled till he was tired, and produced no greater effect.

“There!” he panted, desisting finally.  “Now I reckon you know whether I been up there or not!”

Herman rubbed his smitten cheek.  “Pow!” he exclaimed.  “Pow-ee!  You cert’ny did lan’ me good one nat time!  Oo-ee! she hurt!”

“You’ll get hurt worse’n that,” Penrod assured him, “if you stay around here much.  Rupe Collins is comin’ this afternoon, he said.  We’re goin’ to make some policemen’s billies out of the rake handle.”

“You go’ spoil new rake you’ pa bought?”