s ivory-top has got to have his
face washed in the snow."

"And I say you're not going to do it," warned Dick.

"He's too fresh, Hen is."

"No committee of citizens has asked you to reform any one, Ben," Dick
went on good-humoredly. "You've got a few faults of your own that you
might remedy, and I guess we all have."

"Come on, fellows, and rush Dutcher," called Ben Alvord. Ross, Allen and
others moved as though to help, but Dick was flanked by Tom and Greg. In
the distance Dave Darrin could be seen skating back.

"All right, if you fellows insist on it," partly agreed Dick. "But if
trouble starts Hen is going to have some backing on his side, too."

"I guess that's right," nodded Tom Reade.

"Now, who's fresh?" challenged Ben Alvord hotly. "You, Dick Prescott."

"Well, if I am," sighed Dick, "I'm ready to take my punishment for it.
At all events, I'll look after myself."

"Yah, you will!" growled Ben angrily. "I notice that, just as soon as
anything starts, your gang always jump in on the scene!"

"Dick will fight you, all alone, I know, Ben, if you want him to,"
proposed Dave Darrin, coming slowly into the circle. "But perhaps you
don't want to fight Dick. You tried it once before, and got most
beautifully pounded."

"Yah!" snarled Ben.

"Well, didn't you?" demanded Dave.

"Yah!" sneered Ben. "See here, Darrin, Prescott may be fresh, but he
ain't as bad as you are!"

"So it's I you want to fight with, is it?" laughed Dave. "Come right on
to the shore, then, and don't try any bluffing."

But Ben Alvord didn't care about putting up his guard before either of
these spirited youngsters of the Central Grammar School. After
sputtering a little Ben skated away by himself. Hen got up, after
dabbing his upper lip with his handkerchief and finding that the scratch
amounted to nothing. No further effort was made to molest Hen.

"Now, when you talk, say something pleasant. Don't talk so disagreeably
all the time," advised Prescott in a low tone. "At least, not unless
you're really hunting trouble."

"This is the meanest crowd I ever saw," declared Hen Dutcher stiffly.
"And you started it all, Dave Darrin, by nicknaming me 'Anvil Chorus!'"

"You're at it again, Hen," sighed Dick. "Why can't you stop saying
disagreeable things?"

Toby Ross, who had skated close enough to hear this last, now skated
away again to join a crowd of boys a little way off. Toby spoke to them
laughingly. Then, over the ice, came a m