on.
David pulled out of his pocket one of the small, flat objects that he
carried and almost completely concealed it with his body as he leaned
over it.

A few minutes later Harry Sears crept up on tip-toe from the back of the
rock. Jack Bolling was considerably farther off. He meant to give David
some warning of his presence before he approached him.

Harry Sears lay down flat on top of the rock. He made a sudden dive
toward David, grabbing at the object that David held in his hand.

"What have you there?" he demanded. "Out with it! You've got to tell
what you do every afternoon, hiding off by yourself."

David Brewster sprang to his feet, his face white with passion. He
thrust the object that Harry coveted back into his pocket.

"Get up from there!" he shouted hoarsely. "What do you mean by spying on
me like this? What business is it of yours how I spend my time? I am
answerable to Tom Curtis, not to you. Here is your friend, Mr. Bolling,
sneaking behind you on the same errand; and I suppose you both think you
are gentlemen," he sneered.

"Oh, come, Brewster," interrupted Jack Bolling apologetically, "I
suppose Harry and I were overdoing things a bit to come over here after
you. But there is no use getting so all-fired angry. If you are not up
to mischief, why do you care if we do happen to come up with you?"

"Because I care to keep my own business to myself," answered David.

"Look here, you fellow, don't be impertinent," broke in Harry Sears
coolly, as though David had scarcely the right to speak to him.

David felt a blind, hot rage sweep over him. The boy was no longer
master of himself. Some day, when he learned to control this white heat
of passion, it was to make him a great power for good in the world. Now
his rage was the master.

"Take care!" he called suddenly to Harry. He swung himself up on the
rock opposite Harry, forcing his opponent into an open place in the
field. Then David let loose a swinging blow with his closed fist.

Harry and David were evenly matched fighters. Harry was taller and
older, and had been trained as a boxer in school and college gymnasiums;
but David was a firmly built fellow, of medium height, with muscles as
hard as iron from his work in the open. In addition, David was furiously
angry.

Harry parried the first blow with his left arm, then made a lunge at
David.

"Here, you fellows, cut that out!" commanded Jack Bolling. "You are
almost men. Don't scrap like a co