epping, the freshman put up one arm to ward off further
attack.

"Come, don't start a fight here, Fred," Dick cautioned the other,
in a low tone. "For one thing, you couldn't win anyway. Besides,
your father would hear the racket and come in."

"How do you know I put Tip up to that job?" demanded young Ripley,
his face as white as chalk. "Did Tip tell you all about it?"

"Not a word."

"Then you don't know," cried Fred, in sudden triumph.

"If I didn't," grinned Dick, "you've just confessed it."

"You tricked me---I mean it's a lie."

"No; it isn't, either," asserted Dick, coolly. "Though the second
chap, in that mix-up in Stetson's alley one night, got away before
I had time to recognize his face in the black darkness there,
yet as I fell and grabbed for the chap's ankle, I noticed his
trousers with the lavender stripe. I had seen those trousers
on you before, Fred, and you're wearing them again at this minute."

Fred glanced downward, starting.

"You see," insisted the freshman, "there's no sense in denying
that you put Tip up to the game that got him into the penitentiary."

"How many have you told this to?" demanded Fred, fright showing
in his face.

"My chums suspect," Dick answered, frankly. "I'm pretty sure
I haven't told anyone else."

"Good thing you haven't, then," retorted Fred, recovering some
of his usual impudence. "My father is a lawyer, and he'd know
how to make you smart if you started libelous yarns about me."

"Your father being a lawyer, I think he would also be likely to
show an investigating turn of mind. You can put it up to your
father if you want to, Fred."

Young Ripley winced. Prescott laughed lightly.

"Now, see here, Fred, I don't want to live on bad terms with anyone.
You've got good points, I'm sure you have."

"Oh, thank you," rejoined the sophomore, with exaggerated sarcasm.

"And I'll be glad to begin being on good terms with you at any
time, if you should ever really want such a thing," continued
the freshman. "If you were a thoroughly good fellow, wholly on
the level, like Badger, Thomp, Purcell, or any one of scores of
fellows that we know, then I'd hate to know that you didn't like
me. But, as to the kind of fellow you've sometimes shown yourself
to be, Fred, I've been really glad that I wasn't your sort and
didn't appeal to you."

At this style of talk the sophomore seemed all but crushed with
mortification.

"Come, Fred," pursued Dick, not wai