fellow who's responsible," answered the boy who had fallen,
and he strode up to confront Fred. "For two pins I'd smash you on the
nose," he continued, hotly.

"You leave him alone!" broke in Randy, and doubled up his fists.

The boy who had gone down had expected Fred to back away; but the
youngest Rover bravely stood his ground.

"Say! what's up back there?" queried Spouter, suddenly looking around
to see why the other boys had not followed him to the auto-stage.

"Looks to me as if somebody was going to get into a fight," returned
Jack. "See! one of those fellows just made a pass at Fred. Come on,
this won't do!" and he ran back towards the crowd that was gathering.

The boy who had fallen had, indeed, made a pass with one of his dirty
fists at Fred, but the latter had dodged the blow with ease and now he
had the loudly dressed youth by the arm.

"You behave yourself!" he said sharply. "I didn't knock you down, and
you know it! I'm sorry you got yourself all dirty, but it wasn't my
fault."

"You fight him, and you'll fight me too!" broke in Randy. "If there is
any blame in this it belongs to me as much as to my cousin."

By this time Jack had reached the group and pushed his way to the
front. As he caught sight of the face of the boy who had fallen, he
gave a quick exclamation.

"Well I never! Nappy Martell!"

"Do you know this fellow?" questioned Andy, quickly.

"I've met him before," was the reply. "He's Nappy Martell--the fellow I
had trouble with in front of the office in Wall Street--the fellow who
so mistreated that poor street peddler."

"Oh! So this is the same chap, eh?" broke out Randy. "No wonder he
wants to fight with Fred. He's a regular scrapper, in spite of his fine
clothes."

"What are you doing here?" asked Nappy Martell, curiously, as he looked
at Jack. Then his gaze suddenly shifted to Fred and Randy. "Are you
Rovers, too?"

"We are," was the quick response.

"Humph! No wonder you knocked me down. I suppose that fellow told you
all about me?" and Nappy pointed to Jack.

"What's the use of quarreling about a little thing like a tumble in the
dirt?" panted Fatty, who was almost out of breath because of his run
towards the auto-stage. "Come on! let's get to the Hall and see who is
there."

"I'm not anxious to fight," answered Fred, readily; "but I don't like
this fellow's talk."

"I'll talk as I please," blustered Martell. "And I'll fight, too, if I
want to."

"That's the tal