's
collar, however. Phin, however, instead of obeying, aimed another
blow, and would have landed, had not another figure bounded in
and taken the blow, next hurling Phin back against a brick wall.

It was Len Spencer, "star" reporter of "The Blade," who had thus
interfered. And now Dave Darrin was dancing in front of Heathcote
Drayne, ordering:

"Let go of Prescott! What sort of fair play is this?"

"Mind your own business!" ordered Mr. Drayne. "I'm stopping a
fight."

Not an instant did impulsive Darrin waste in arguing the matter.
He landed his fist just under Heathcote Drayne's left eye, causing
that Heathcote to let go of Dick in a hurry.

"You young scoundrel!" glared Mr. Drayne, glaring at Dave.

"Opinions may differ as to who the scoundrel is," retorted Dave
unconcernedly. "My own notions of fair play are against holding
one of the parties in a fight so that the other may hammer him."

"I'll have you arrested for this assault," stormed Mr. Drayne,
applying a handkerchief to the bruised spot under his eye. "Both
you and Prescott---your ruffian friend for assaulting my son.

"Go ahead and do it," retorted Dave. "As it happens, your son
did all the assaulting, and Prescott, who didn't care about fighting
with such a thing, only defended himself. We saw it all from
across the street, but we didn't come across to interfere until
we had to."

"I'll take some of your impudence out of you in the police court,"
insisted Mr. Drayne.

"Yes, I would, if I were you," broke in Len Spencer coolly. "I
saw this whole business, too, and I'll take pleasure in testifying
against you both. Mr. Drayne, you didn't see the start of this
thing, and I did. But you, at least, know that your son is a
moral leper kicked out of the High School because he was not decent
enough to associate with the other students. I wouldn't be surprised
if he gets some of his bad qualities from you, sir"

"You'll sing a different tune in court," asserted Heathcote Drayne
heatedly.

"So will you," laughed Len Spencer. "By the way, I see a policeman
down the street. If you want to prefer a charge, Mr. Drayne,
I'll blow my police whistle and bring the officer here."

Spencer took a whistle from his pocket, moving it toward his lips.

"Do you want the officer!" challenged the reporter.

But Mr. Drayne began to see the matter in a somewhat different
light. He knew much about the nature of his son, and here were
two witnesses ag