accuser.

"Ben, I know you're sore, but if you say that I, or any of my friends
told on you, then you're going too far."

"You did!" asserted young Alvord. "You blabbed!"

"I didn't, and we didn't; not one of us."

"That's all right to say after you're caught," flared Ben.

"Then you call us liars?" flashed Dave Darrin, pushing his way forward,
his fists clenched.

"You are, if you say you didn't blab!" panted Ben.

"Fight! fight!" chorused some of the boys.

"Get back, Dave, and keep cool," warned Dick, pushing his chum to the
rear. "This thing started with me, and it's my affair first of all. Ben
Alvord, look at me! I don't want to fight. I don't believe in fighting
when it can be helped. I know you're sore, too, for you've just had a
rough time of it after what you thought was fun on Hallowe'en. But
you're going too far when you say we blabbed on you, for we didn't."

"Who did, then?" sneered Ben.

"I don't know. I'm not the chief of police. But, just because you can't
think who told on you, you needn't come along and accuse us."

"I say you did tell--you or some of your gang!" retorted Ben.

"It sounds likely enough. No one else knew," muttered a boy on the
outskirts of the crowd.

"Of course Dick Prescott or some of his gang told on us," insisted Ben
Alvord angrily.

Dick took a step closer to his accuser.

"Then, Ben, you're a liar!" Prescott announced coolly.

"Punch him!" urged another boy, giving Ben a shove toward Dick.

"You bet I will!" snapped Alvord. "I don't allow a sneak to call me a
liar."

"You can have a fight, if you insist on it," agreed Dick promptly. "You
can have it right away, too, and it will last as long as you want. But
this is no place. Let's go up to the field where we used to practise
football."

"Whoop! Come on!" The crowd of Grammar School boys surged around the
prospective fighters. A big procession started up the road.

"See here, this whole crowd can't come. So many will get us into
trouble," shouted Dave.

"I'll name ten of Dick's friends, and Ben can name ten of his friends.
No one else will be allowed to come."

Dave quickly called off his list of boys.

"Choose me, Ben!" "Choose me!" urged two score boys whom Dave had not
named. Ben looked around, trying to select those whom he thought most
friendly to himself.

Then the procession started again, containing only the chosen ones.
Others wanted to go, but knew they would be driven back by the selected