anation.

"They fired me," said Stover, hesitating a moment--"they fired me for
trying to kill a man."

"You don't say so!"

"I drew a knife on him," said Stover rapidly. "I'd 'a' done for him,
too, the coward, if they hadn't hauled me off."

At this there was a chuckle from the passenger behind who said with
great solemnity:

"Dear me, dear me, a dreadful state of affairs--quite thrilling."

"I saw red, everything--everything red," said Stover, breathing hard.

"What had he done to you?" said Jimmy, winking at Mr. Hopkins, alias
Lucius Cassius, alias The Roman, master of the Latin line and
distinguished flunker of boys.

"He insulted my--my mother."

"Your mother?"

"She--she's dead," said Stover in a stage voice he remembered.

At this Jimmy and Mr. Hopkins stopped, genuinely perplexed, and looked
hard at Stover.

"You don't mean it! Dear me," said The Roman, hesitating before a
possible blunder.

"It was long ago," said Stover, thrilling with the delight of
authorship. "She died in a ship-wreck to save me."

The Roman was nonplussed. There was always the possibility that the
story might be true.

"Ah, she gave her life to save yours, eh?" he said encouragingly.

"Held my head above water, breeches buoy and all that sort of thing,"
said Stover, remembering something in Dickens. "I was the only one
saved, me and the ship's cat."

"Well, well," said The Roman, with a return of confidence; "and your
father--is he alive?"

"Yes," said Stover, considering the distant woods; "but--but we don't
speak of him."

"Ah, pardon me," said The Roman, gazing on him with wonder. "Painful
memories--of course, of course. And what happened to your brother?"

Stover, perceiving the note of skepticism, turned and looked The Roman
haughtily in the face, then, turning to Jimmy, he said in a half
whisper:

"Who's the old buck, anyhow?"

Jimmy stiffened on the box as though he had received an electric
shock; then, biting his lips, he answered with a vicious lunge at the
horses:

"Oh, he comes back and forth every now and then."

They were now in the open country, rolling steadily past fields of
sprouting things, with the warm scent of new-plowed earth borne to
them on the gentle April breeze.

All of a sudden Stover seemed to dive sideways from the coach and
remained suspended by his razor-tipped patent-leathers.

"Hi, there!" cried Jimmy, bringing the coach to a stop with a jerk,
"what are you trying to do