ail once don't go along with the notion
that it's the only place where you can find your kind of company.
But whatever you do, steer clear of Dick Prescott and his chums.
I think you understand that. Now, go!"

Tip tried to brazen it out, but there was a compelling quality
in the clear, steady gaze of Dave Darrin's dark eyes. After a
moment Tip Scammon let his own gaze drop. He turned and shuffled
away.

"Poor fellow!" muttered Dick.

"Yes, with all my heart," agreed Dave. "But the fellow doesn't
want to get any notion that he can go about terrorizing folks
in Gridley!"

CHAPTER V

RIPLEY LEARNS THAT THE PIPER MUST BE PAID

Scammon, however, knew one person in Gridley whom he thought he
could terrorize. He started in promptly to do it.

At three the next afternoon young Scammon loitered under a big,
bare oak on one of the winding, little-traveled streets that led
from Gridley out into the open country beyond.

In summer it was a favorite thoroughfare, especially for young
engaged couples who wanted to loiter along the road, chatting
and picking wild flowers.

In winter, however, the place was usually deserted, being more
than a mile out of the city.

As Tip lingered he caught sight of haughty Fred Ripley coming
down the road at a fast walk. Fred looked both angry and worried.
Tip, as soon as he caught sight of the young fellow who imagined
himself an "aristocrat," began to grin in his evil way.

A dull, sullen, red fired Fred's cheeks when he caught sight of
the one who was waiting for him.

"Ye're most nearly on time," Tip informed the other.

"See here, Scammon, what in blazes did you mean by sending me
a note like the one I got from you" demanded Fred?

Tip only grinned.

"What did you mean, fellow?" Ripley insisted angrily.

"I meant to get ye here, to let ye know what I had to say to ye,"
Scammon retorted.

"Why, confound you, fellow---" Fred began, stuttering a bit, but
the other cut in on him in short fashion.

"None o' that to me, now, Fred Ripley. D'ye hear? Me an' you
used to be pretty good pals, once on a time."

At this charge, Fred winced very plainly.

"And maybe we'll be pals, now, too," Tip pursued, with the air
of one who believed himself to be able to dictate terms. "That
is, for your sake, I hope we are, Ripley."

"What are you talking about? What do you want to see me about?
Come to the point in mighty few words," Ripley commanded, impatiently.

"Well