d Andy good-naturedly pushed the fellows before him down the
passage. Innes released Steve, but stepped between him and Eric.

"Come on, Edwards," he said with a laugh. "Be good and get your clothes
on. Cap will do just what he says he will, too. You take my advice, kid,
and bury the hatchet."

Steve went back to his locker, and with trembling hands dressed himself.
Harry Westcott and Tom joined him and asked in low voices about the
trouble. But Steve was non-communicative. He was wondering how much of
Eric Sawyer's charge the fellows who had heard it were believing.
Finally,

"No swimming to-day?" asked Tom.

Steve shook his head. "No," he answered. "Tell the fellows, will you?
I'm--I'm too tired. I'm sorry."

"It's pretty late, anyway," murmured Harry. Together the three crossed
the room toward the door. Already, as it seemed to Steve, fellows were
regarding him suspiciously. Eric was not in sight, having gone on to his
bath, for which two at least of the trio were thankful. Harry left them
at the corner of Torrence, and Steve and Tom went on in silence to their
room. Somehow it seemed difficult nowadays for them to find things to
talk about. Steve resolutely sat himself down and drew his books toward
him, while Tom, after fidgetting around for a few minutes, announced
that he was going over to the office to see if there was any mail, and
went out again. Steve was glad when he had gone, for he was relieved
then of further pretence of studying. He couldn't get his mind on his
books. The encounter with Eric Sawyer had left him irritable and
restless, and he couldn't help wondering whether the fellows believed
what Eric had said. He was grateful to Andy Miller for the latter's
support, but it was doubtful if Andy's words had convinced anyone. And
the charge was an ugly one. Steve winced when he considered it. It had
seemed to him as he had left the locker room that already the fellows
there had looked at him differently. He could imagine them talking about
him and weighing Eric's story. Further reflections were interrupted by
the reappearance of Tom, an open letter in hand and several newspapers
sticking from a pocket.

"Nothing for you but a couple of papers," he said. "What do you suppose
those silly fathers of ours are doing now?"

"Fighting a duel?" asked Steve with an attempt at humour.

"Not quite," Tom answered, "but they're getting ready for a law-suit."

"What about?"

"I can't make out," replied the