"That's how you show 'em, Gerry."

Pete stared angrily at his attacker.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The three advanced purposefully. One seized Pete by an arm, swinging
him about violently. Another joined him and between them, they held the
smaller lad firmly.

Gerry swung an open hand jarringly against Pete's face.

"Guess you're going to have to have a little lesson in how to talk to
your betters," he snarled. He drew back a fist.

Don Michaels had come out of his chair. He strode over to the group, to
face the attacker.

"Just exactly what _do_ you think you're doing?" he demanded
icily.

"Who do you think you are?"

Don touched a small bronze button in his lapel. "I'm one of the guys
that's supposed to keep order around this place," he said. "We've got
self-government in this school, remember?" He swung about to confront
the two who still held Waern.

"Now, suppose you turn this guy loose and start explaining yourselves."

Gerry placed a large hand on Don's shoulder, kneading at the muscles
suggestively.

"Look, little man," he said patronizingly, "you'll be a lot better off
if you just mind your own business. Like watching those lockers over
there so they don't fly away or something. We'll take----"

Michaels swung around slowly, then put knuckles on hips and stared at
the other sternly.

"Take that hand away," he said softly. "Now get over there, and start
picking up those books. Get them nice and neat." His voice rose a
trifle.

"Now, I said!" He stabbed a finger out.

The boy before him hesitated, his face contorted with effort. He forced
a hand part way up.

Don continued to stare at him.

The other drew a sobbing breath, then turned away and knelt by the
scattered books and papers.

[Illustration]

Don wheeled to confront the other two.

"Get over by those lockers," he ordered. "Now, let's hear it. What's
your excuse for this row?"

"Aw, you saw it. You saw that little gersal trip Gerry there." The two
had backed away, but now one of them started forward again.

"Come to think of it, you don't look so big to me." He half turned.

"Come on, Walt, let's----"

"Be quiet!" Michaels' gaze speared out at the speaker.

"Now, get over to those lockers. Move!" He swiveled his head to examine
the boy who had picked up the books.

"Put them down there by the locker," he said coldly. "Then get yourself
over there with your pals." He took a pad and pencil from his pocket,
the