t it! You won't dare show your faces, you two thugs!" Again his
gaze travelled along the empty, sunlit road. "Anyway, I didn't say
anything I didn't have a right to say. You asked me what I thought and I
told you. You--you made me say it!"

"I did, Dreer!" Amy shook his head gently. "Think again. Surely, I
didn't do that?"

"Well, he did," faltered Dreer. "And you put him up to it, I'll bet!
Don't you touch me, Byrd!"

"Put your hands up!"

"I won't! You're bullies! Two against one isn't fair!"

"Thayer won't touch you. I'll attend to you alone and unaided, Dreer.
Fair warning!"

"Keep away from me! You'd better! Don't you--"

Dreer picked himself up slowly from the sidewalk. There was a frightened
look in his eyes.

"I don't see what you're doing this for," he half whimpered. "I haven't
done anything to you."

"You spoke disrespectfully of the school, Dreer. I told you you mustn't.
I'm terribly fond of the dear old school and it hurts me to hear it
maligned. And then there's Durkin's violin, Dreer. Perhaps you haven't
heard about that."

A gleam of comprehension flashed in the boy's face and he backed up
against the fence. "I don't know anything about any violin,"
he muttered.

"Of course you don't, Dreer," replied Amy cheerfully. "I'm just telling
you about it. Someone went into his room day before yesterday and
smashed it. Isn't that a shame? _You_ wouldn't do a thing like that,
would you?"

"I didn't!" whined Dreer. "You haven't any right to blame me for it!"

"Who's blaming you for it? Perish the thought, Dreer! I'm just telling
you about it."

"Then you let me go, Byrd! I didn't hurt his old fiddle!"

"Tut, tut! You mustn't think I'm knocking you around on account of that.
Oh dear, no! I wouldn't have any right to do that, Dreer. What I'm doing
is punishing you for speaking disrespectfully of our dear old Alma
Mater. Look out for your face, Dreer!"

Dreer put up a half-hearted defence then, and for a moment the two boys
circled about on the dusty sidewalk, Dreer pale and plainly scared, Amy
smiling and deliberate. Then came a feint at Dreer's body, a lowering of
his guard and a quick out-thrust of Amy's left fist. The blow landed on
Dreer's cheek and he went staggering backward against the palings. He
was too frightened to cry out. With a hand pressed to his bleeding
cheek, he stared dumbly at Amy, trembling and panting. Clint, who had
watched proceedings from a few yards away, felt sorry for