threshold
of his room.

"Durkin!" cried Clint. "Stop it!"

Penny turned and observed Clint quite calmly, although Clint could see
that he was trembling in every nerve and muscle.

"I'm not going to touch him again," replied Penny.

"I should think not!" Clint leaned over the motionless Dreer anxiously.
"Here, take hold of him and get him inside. You help, too, kid, whatever
your name is. Get him on the bed and shut the door. That was an awful
punch you gave him, Durkin."

"Yes, he can't fight," replied Penny unemotionally, as he helped carry
the burden to the bed. "He'll be all right in a minute. I jabbed him
under the ear. It doesn't hurt you much; just gives you a sort of a
headache. Wet a towel and dab it on his face."

"What the dickens was it all about, anyway?" asked Clint as he followed
instructions.

"Well, he was twisting young Melville's arm and the kid was yelling
and--"

"You'd have yelled yourself," muttered the boy, with a sniffle.

"I came out and told him to stop it and he didn't. So I pulled the kid
away from him and he got mad and punched me in the cheek. So I went for
him. He's a mean pup, anyway, Dreer is."

The subject of the compliment stirred and opened his eyes with a groan.
Then he looked blankly at Clint. "Hello," he muttered. "What's the--" At
that moment his gaze travelled on to Penny and he scowled.

"All right, Durkin," he said softly. "I'll get even with you,
you--you--"

"Cut it out," advised Clint. "How do you feel?"

"All right. Tell him to get out of my room. And that kid, too."

Penny nodded and retired, herding Melville before him, followed by the
scowling regard of Dreer.

Clint tossed the towel aside. "I'll beat it, too, I guess," he said.
"You'll be all right if you lie still awhile. So long."

"Much obliged," muttered Dreer, not very graciously. "I'll get square
with that ugly pup, though, Thayer. You hear what I tell you!"

"Oh, call it off," replied Clint cheerfully. "You each had a whack. What
more do you want? So long, Dreer."

"Long," murmured the other, closing his eyes. "Tell him to--look
out--Thayer."

Clint's first impulse was to seek Penny, but before he reached the door
of Number 13 the strains of the fiddle began to be heard and Clint, with
a shrug and a smile, sought his own room.

He spread his books on the table, resolved to do a half-hour's stuffing
before supper. But his thoughts wandered far from lessons. The scrap in
the corridor, Pe