When Hal McCormack came down to breakfast on the morning following Hallowe’en, he found that the other members of the family had almost completed their morning meal. But it was apparent, from the atmosphere surrounding the table, that something had gone wrong. His mother looked worried, his young sisters looked curious, and his father, who was captain of the local company of the National Guard, had a stern and military air.

“Halpert,” said Captain McCormack, “before you take your seat at the table you will please go to the front porch and see what is there.”

The request was such an unusual one that Hal stood for a moment wondering and motionless. But only for a moment. He had been accustomed from childhood to give ready obedience to his father’s commands, and, without comment or question, he obeyed now. Two minutes later he again entered the dining-room.

“Well,” questioned his father, “what did you find there?”

“Why,” stammered the boy, “I found that marble statue; and it’s broken in two.”

“So I discovered. Who broke it?”

“Honest, father, I don’t know. We didn’t. It was perfectly all right when we left it.”

“Where did you leave it?”

“On Jim Perry’s porch.”

“When?”

“I guess it was about twelve o’clock.”

“And where did you get it?”

“From Mr. Barriscale’s lawn.”

“I thought as much. I recognized it. Who helped you take it?”

For the first time Hal hesitated. Hitherto his answers had been prompt and frank. But he could not betray his companions. He had promised not to do so. He would not have done so if he had not promised.

“Well?” His father was looking at him sternly and questioningly. He knew that he must make some reply.

“Well,” he said, “you see, it’s this way. We all promised not to peach on each other. And, if you’d just as soon, I’d rather not tell.”

“As you like about that. I’ll not press the question. But, in that event, I take it that you are ready, yourself, to assume full responsibility for the damage that has been done to the statue.”

“But, father, we didn’t break it. We didn’t bring it here.”

“That may be. But you removed it from Mr. Barriscale’s lawn. That was the primary offense. If you had not carried it away in the first place it would not have been broken.”

“I suppose not.”

“Of course not. And since you choose to assume full responsibility for the damage, you must make it right with Mr. Barriscale.”

“I’d pay him in a minute but I haven’t any money, except what little I’ve got in the bank.”

“Then you must earn it; provided he is willing to make a cash settlement.”

At this point Hal’s mother broke into the conversation.

“I just knew something was going to happen,” she wailed, “when you went out with those rough boys last night. Why couldn’t you have stayed at home; or else gone with Emily and Lucy?”

“Oh, we didn’t want any boys with us!” exclaimed Emily. “We just dressed up in old clothes and false faces, and went around visiting. We had the best time, and Mrs. Grimstone gave us doughnuts and——”

“Emily, be still!” admonished Mrs. McCormack. “You wouldn’t speak so lightly of your pleasures if you understood what a terrible misfortune has fallen on us.”

Mr. McCormack had been smiling grimly at the interruption, but Hal had paid little attention to it. He was considering the course that lay before him.

“I suppose,” he said, “I’ll have to take it back home.”

“If you refer to the statue,” replied Mr. McCormack, “I think undoubtedly that is the best course to pursue.”

“And what else shall I do?”

“Well, you must go to see Mr. Barriscale, and acknowledge your offense, and submit to whatever penalty he imposes on you.”

At the grim possibilities of such an interview Hal became really frightened. The idea of having to face Mr. Barriscale personally had not before occurred to him. He was willing to take the broken statuary home, and to pay for the damage done, in any way that was possible to him; but to present himself as an offender before the stern and autocratic Mr. Barriscale, that was a part of his punishment the thought of which struck terror to his heart. For the first time in his life the spirit of cowardice entered into his soul.

“I can’t face Mr. Barriscale, father,” he said. “He’s too severe. He’d frighten me to death.”

Captain McCormack straightened up in his chair and looked his son in the eyes.

“I’ve heard you say,” he replied, “that when you reach the proper age you want to be a member of my company of the National Guard. Is that still true?”

“Why, yes; I think I’d like to be a soldier.”

“Well, a soldier must never be afraid to face whatever duty lies before him. His own comfort and safety must be a second consideration. He must always be brave enough to be fair and honorable. If he is not he has no business to be a soldier.”

Hal had risen from the table, and he stood for a moment in serious thought. At last he said simply:

“I will go to see Mr. Barriscale.”

That closed the incident so far as Captain McCormack was concerned. But Hal’s mother was not so easily pacified. She continued alternately to pity and to blame her boy, and to make dire predictions of what was likely to happen to him when he should come in contact with Mr. Barriscale. And as for Hal’s young sisters, they would not be appeased until they had drawn from him a full recital of the escapade of Hallowe’en. But he did not permit either his mother’s lamentations or the volubility of his sisters to impede the carrying out of his programme. As it was Saturday morning and there was no school he was able to set about at once the performance of his most unwelcome task. He resurrected a boy’s express wagon that he had used with delight a few years back, loaded the fragments of broken statuary carefully into it, covered them discreetly with a piece of burlap, and started out on his journey to the Barriscale mansion.

Two blocks from home he ran unexpectedly into Slicker, who stood for a moment gazing at him and his outfit in wild-eyed astonishment.

“What you got there?” asked Slicker.

“Stolen goods,” replied Hal sententiously.

“What you mean stolen goods? It ain’t the stone cupid, is it?”

“Yes.”

“Where you takin’ him?”

“Back home.”

“Perry make you take it back?”

“No.”

“Who did then?”

“My father.”

“How’d he come to know about it? Who peached?”

Hal decided to throw off his reserve and explain.

“Well, you see, after we left the thing on Perry’s porch some other crowd must have come along and picked it up and brought it to our house. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but those fellows, whoever they were, broke it.”

“Gee whiz! Is it bust bad?”

“Yes. Broke in two. Ruined.”

“That’s a crime! Let’s see!”

Slicker lifted the burlap carefully and inspected the broken image.

“It’s done for,” he said as he replaced the covering. “What you takin’ it back for? It ain’t no good now.”

“My father thought I’d better.”

“What you goin’ to do about it?”

“I’ve got to stand the damage.”

“Why, you didn’t break it.”

“I know. But I helped carry it off; and if it hadn’t been carried off it wouldn’t have been broken.”

“I guess that’s right, too. But you didn’t snitch it alone. What about the rest of us?”

“I didn’t give any of you away. I shouldered the whole job.”

Slicker stood for a moment in deep contemplation. Finally he said:

“That’s mighty decent, Hal; and you’re a regular brick. But it don’t go down with me. We’ll cut the rest of the fellows out and you and me’ll share the consekences. We’ll go fifty-fifty on it.”

“No; you don’t have to do that, Slicker.”

“I know I don’t; but I’m goin’ to. It’s settled. Come on!”

He took hold of one side of the cross-piece of the handle of the wagon and motioned to his companion to take hold of the other side. Hal knew that when Slicker had made up his mind to do a thing there was no turning him. So he acquiesced in the plan. And together the two boys dragged their unlovely load toward its destination.

Two blocks farther on they met Hal’s aunt, Miss Sarah Halpert, a lady approaching middle age, of decided opinions about persons and things, prominent in the civic and social life of the city, keen in intellect, quick in resourcefulness.

Hal would not, at this moment, have willingly come in contact with her. When he saw her approaching he looked about for some means of escape, but they were in the middle of a block, and the meeting was inevitable.

“What’s all this about?” she inquired as she came up to them. “Are you boys returning stolen goods this morning?”

“That’s about it, Aunt Sarah,” replied Hal.

“Well,” she continued, “if I’d caught the little rascals that left a load of turnips in my front yard last night, they’d have thought the day of judgment had come, sure enough. Who’s this other boy? What’s your name, young man?” Then, before the “other boy” could reply, she answered her own question. “Oh, you’re Slicker. You’re the boy that fastened a tick-tack on Jerry Minahan’s window, aren’t you?”

Slicker colored a little and acknowledged that he had committed the offense named.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself!” she said. But her eyes twinkled so as she spoke that Slicker knew she was not angry with him.

“We’re in a hurry,” explained Hal. “We’ve got to be going.”

He started on, dragging both the wagon and his team-mate in his haste to escape. But she held up a warning hand.

“None of that!” she exclaimed. “I know better. I want to know what you’ve got there, where you got it, and where you’re taking it.”

Hal knew, from long experience, that evasion was out of the question, and that it would be utterly useless to deny her request. So, with Slicker nodding occasional confirmation, he gave her the whole story. She did not interrupt him during the recital. But when he had finished, she said:

“Well, I don’t envy you your job. I guess I’m the only person in town who isn’t afraid of Benjamin Barriscale. I don’t know what he’ll do to you, but, whatever it is, you’ll richly deserve it, both of you. I hope he’ll give it to you, good and plenty. The idea of stealing a thing like that! What put it into your crazy heads, anyway?”

“It was my idea, Miss Halpert,” responded Slicker. “Hal, he didn’t want to do it. I got him into this trouble. I’m goin’ to help him out if I can.”

“Good boy!” she replied. “That’s the stuff! You’ve both got the making of men in you, once you get over this foolish age. Now trot along and do your duty. And you, Hal, let me know this afternoon how it comes out.”

She started on, and the boys bent again to their task; but before she had gone many steps she turned and called:

“Hal! come here a minute. I want to speak to you.”

When the boy reached her side she asked:

“Have you got any money?”

“Just a few dollars in the savings bank,” replied Hal.

“My case exactly. Maybe Mr. Barriscale will want money damages. If he does, don’t you ask your father for the cash, nor your mother. Do you hear me? I won’t give you the money. Don’t dream it! But I guess I can fix it up so you can earn some. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Aunt Sarah, and thank you; but I wouldn’t——”

“Yes, you would. You do as I tell you. Now go on about your business.”

She turned and swept up the street, and Hal and Slicker again took up the line of march toward the Barriscale mansion. Avoiding the busy streets, they went a roundabout way, until, at last, they reached their destination. There they lifted the broken marble from the wagon and, each boy carrying his portion, they deposited it on its base at the rim of the fountain from which it had been so rudely removed the night before.

No one about the premises intercepted or interfered with them. Apparently no one saw them save one passer-by who stopped for a moment to watch them curiously, and then, with a quizzical smile on his face, went on about his business.

“Well,” said Slicker, when they had returned safely to the sidewalk, “what’s the next move?”

“The next move,” replied Hal, “is to face Mr. Barriscale.”

“Gee whiz! That’s a tough one.”

“I know it’s tough. But it’s got to be done.”

“Sure it has. It’s the only proper thing to do. Might as well order harps for the glory land, though. There won’t be enough left of us to make a decent dish-rag of when he gets through with us. Well, come along!”

“But you’re not going.”

“Sure I’m going.”

“No, you’re not. I won’t stand for it. I won’t take any other boy with me on this errand. If I’m alone I can face the music. If you go along it’ll take the starch right out of me.”

“Rats! I’ve got to take my share.”

“I know how you feel. But you can help more by staying away. I’ve made up my mind.”

For a moment Slicker looked earnestly at his companion to discover if possible whether he really meant what he was saying, and when he found that he did, he made no further effort to accompany him.

“All right!” he said. “You’re the judge and jury. But don’t forget that I wanted to go.”

“I won’t forget it. There isn’t another boy in the crowd would make that offer. But I’m going alone.”

“Well, I’ll take the buggy home anyway.”

Slicker started back up the hill dragging the express wagon after him, and Hal faced toward the central city to meet whatever fate awaited him there.

The rain of the night before had not yet quite ceased, the skies were lowering, and mist still lay heavily on the town. Hal noticed as he came into the business portion of the city that in many of the stores and offices lights were burning to dispel the gloom. This was true also at the Barriscale plant. A hundred windows of the big buildings that faced the plaza were illuminated from within. But in Hal’s mind the lights gave no cheerful aspect to the scene. They were like so many eyes trying to stare him out of countenance. It required a new mustering of courage to mount the steps that led to the office door and make his entrance there. The clerk who approached him to inquire as to the nature of his business said that Mr. Barriscale had not yet arrived. Hal turned away with a sense of temporary relief, left the building, crossed the plaza, and went back toward the central city. Just as he reached the corner of the main street he saw Mr. Barriscale’s car turn and go down toward the factory. It pulled up in front of the big building, and the manufacturer descended from it and entered his office. But Hal did not immediately return. He reasoned that the head of the company would be very busy for a little while, getting his day’s work started, and there would be a better chance to see him later.

It was a full half-hour afterward that he returned to the mills. The same clerk who had met him on his first visit told him that the president of the company was now in and asked him to give his name and to state the nature of his business.

“I am Halpert McCormack,” was the reply. But his voice was so low and seemed so strangely weak that the young man was not able to hear it plainly above the hum of voices in the room, the clicking of typewriters, and the muffled roar of distant machinery.

“I am Halpert McCormack,” repeated the boy. “I want to see Mr. Barriscale about taking away the marble figure from his fountain last night.”

“Very well, wait here.”

The clerk disappeared through a door marked “Private Office,” and reappeared in a few moments and requested Hal to enter. So the midnight marauder found himself standing, cap in hand, in the presence of the great man of the city. Mr. Barriscale was seated at a table in the center of the room, and seemed to be absorbed in the scrutiny of a document he was holding in both hands. When he finally laid the paper down and looked at his visitor it was with no friendly gaze.

“Well,” he inquired brusquely, “what’s your errand?”

If the anticipation of this meeting had filled Hal’s heart with foreboding, the reality was no less fear-compelling. Mr. Barriscale’s presence was imposing, his manner was forbidding. Stern-eyed, square-jawed, formidable in every aspect, he bore the appearance of a man ready to crush any one who opposed his wish or refused to bend to his will. But when Hal replied his voice was firm and his speech was without hesitation.

“I’m the boy,” he said, “who took the marble image away from your fountain last night, and it got broke, and I carried it back there this morning.”

Mr. Barriscale’s frown deepened, his heavy, clipped moustache bristled perceptibly, and a slight flush overspread his face. Evidently the subject was not an agreeable one to him.

“Who told you to come here?” he asked abruptly.

“My father,” replied Hal.

“Who is your father?”

“Captain Lawrence McCormack; and my name is Halpert McCormack.”

“Your father is a respectable citizen. How comes it that he has a night-prowler for a son?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Who was with you on this job?”

“Some boy friends. I’d rather not tell their names. I want to be responsible for the whole thing myself.”

“I see. Shielding your accomplices in crime. A very mistaken idea of magnanimity. But if you want to bear the brunt of this thing I’ll accommodate you.”

The flush in the big man’s face grew deeper, and there was a perceptible note of anger in his voice. The outlook was indeed menacing.

“I want to bear the brunt of it,” replied Hal.

“Very well!” Mr. Barriscale picked up a paper-knife and tapped on the table with it as he spoke, apparently for the purpose of emphasizing his words. “You admit that you entered my lawn under cover of darkness, without permission, for the purpose of removing my property?”

“Yes, sir!”

“And that you did take the marble figure from my fountain and carry it away and break it?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Are you aware that you have committed a crime?”

“I didn’t know it was a crime, sir. I knew it was wrong, but we just did it for fun.”

“Then let me enlighten you, young man. In trespassing on my lawn with evil intent you committed a misdemeanor, punishable by fine and imprisonment. In breaking my statuary you are guilty of malicious mischief, also punishable by fine and imprisonment. In taking my property and carrying it away you are guilty of the crime of larceny and can be sent to state’s prison for a term of years. What do you think of the situation?”

“I had not thought of it that way, sir.”

Hal’s voice began to show weakness, his face paled a little, and his knees began to tremble at this recital of his offenses against the law, and the possible punishment for them.

“Well,” responded the big man in a voice plainly indicative of increasing anger, “you can think of it that way now. And perhaps you will also be willing to tell me now who your confederates in crime were.” Mr. Barriscale tapped the table more vigorously with his paper-knife, straightened up in his chair, and became peremptory in his anger. “I will find out,” he continued. “They shall all be treated as they deserve to be, every one of them. You say the statue was broken. Who broke it?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

Mr. Barriscale half rose from his chair, his face purple with passion.

“Don’t evade my question, sir,” he cried. “I’ll have none of it! Answer me! Who broke the marble?”

“I did.”

It was not Hal who spoke this time. The voice in reply came from a boy sitting at a desk in a far corner of the room. In his trepidation and excitement Hal had not before noticed him. The boy rose from his chair as he spoke and advanced toward the central figures in the conversation. It was Ben Barriscale, Jr. Heretofore there had been only a casual acquaintance between the two boys. They attended the same high school, but they were not in the same class, had seen little of each other, and had had no companionship.

It was evident that Mr. Barriscale was no less surprised at the interruption than was Hal himself. He sank back in his chair and the color went suddenly from his face.

“You!” he exclaimed; “you broke it? Were you with this crowd of midnight marauders?”

“No,” was Ben’s reply. “I wasn’t. But I was with another crowd, and we were doing the same things. We found the statue on Jim Perry’s porch. It was very dark and I didn’t know what it was. We took it over to McCormack’s, and I let it fall and it broke. I didn’t know till this morning that it was our fountain figure.”

Mr. Barriscale’s anger seemed suddenly to have cooled. There was no sharpness or severity in his voice when he spoke again, only a note of reproof.

“That you didn’t know whose property it was,” he said, “is no excuse for your conduct. To remove things from Mr. Perry’s porch is as reprehensible as it is to remove things from my lawn. I can’t see but that you are both equally guilty.”

“I think so myself, father,” replied Ben. “And I’m ready to share any punishment that Hal gets.”

Benjamin Barriscale, Sr., looked slowly from one boy to the other, and it was evident that he was in a quandary. For a full minute he was silent; but he resumed the nervous tapping on the table with his paper-knife. Finally he turned to Hal and asked:

“Where is the statue now?”

“Back on your fountain, sir,” was the reply.

“You say it’s broken?”

“Yes, sir. Broken in two.”

“Then it’s beyond repair, and you two boys shall pay for it.”

He spoke firmly still, but quietly. He said nothing more about crimes, nor about penalties, nor about the state’s prison. The question now appeared to be simply one of compensation.

“That piece of marble,” he continued, after a moment of consideration, “was of considerable value.”

He turned suddenly to Hal. “Have you any money?” he asked.

“No,” replied the boy; “except a few dollars in the savings bank.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. On second thought I’ll not permit you to pay me money. Nor will I permit your father to pay for your misdeeds. You boys must work out your punishment. It will be no easy job. I intend that before you finish it you shall appreciate the sacredness of the rights that people have in their own property.”

Again, for a minute, he was silent while the two boys stood apprehensively awaiting his decision. Then he turned again suddenly to Hal.

“Your father,” he said, “is captain of the local company of state militia?”

“Yes, sir,” was the reply, “he is.”

“And it is a very honorable and responsible position. As president of the local Armory Board engaged in the erection of the new armory, I have come into frequent contact with him, and I have great respect for his ability, and for his willingness to be guided in this important military undertaking by men of greater business experience than his, and familiar with large affairs. I am sure he will approve of the sentence I am about to impose on you.”

He spoke as though he were a judge sitting in the criminal courts, about to impose sentence on a convicted prisoner.

“Ben,” he continued, turning to his son, “are you ready to share in the punishment I propose to provide for this young man?”

“I’m ready, father.” The boy answered without hesitation, and with apparent frankness.

“Very well!”

Mr. Barriscale pressed a button under the edge of his table, and a young woman entered the room with pencil and pad in her hand.

“Miss Lawranson,” he said, “you will please take dictation.”

She seated herself at the opposite side of the table from him, and, after a moment of consideration, he dictated the following letter:

Mr. Barriscale leaned back in his chair with a look of self-satisfaction on his face. He faced each boy in turn, and asked:

“Are you content?”

And, when both boys had answered him in the affirmative, he said:

“Very well! Ben, you may return to your desk. McCormack, you may be excused.”

Young Barriscale resumed his former position at the far side of the room, the great ironmaster plunged again into the mass of papers on his table, and Hal, after a moment of hesitation, bowed and turned away. He left the building, crossed the plaza, and turned up the side street toward the city’s main thoroughfare. The ordeal had been passed, the punishment had been defined, but he did not quite know whether to congratulate himself on the lightness of his sentence or to rebel at the humiliation it might impose on him. One thing in connection with the incident was pleasant to think of, and that was young Ben’s frank admission of his participation in the offense, and his willingness to share the punishment. It stamped him as a boy of character, even though he had been rated as something of a snob. Moreover, it was quite a relief to know that there would be no money for Captain McCormack to pay, even temporarily. Besides, there was to be no court proceeding, no criminal conviction, no term in the state’s prison. Perhaps that was due to Mr. Barriscale’s change of heart after he learned that his son was a participant in the mischief. Hal did not quite know. At any rate it was not so bad as it might have been, although he still had an uneasy feeling that his offense had been exaggerated, that he might find his punishment to be unduly severe, and that he had been saved from deeper distress and humiliation only by a fortunate accident.

When Hal announced at the dinner table that day that he had seen Mr. Barriscale, and when he had stated the nature of the punishment he was to undergo, he noticed a grim smile on the face of his father. But, beyond a passing comment on the fairness of Ben and on the equality of the sentence as between the two boys, Captain McCormack said little. Whatever his thoughts or opinions were on the subject he kept them judiciously to himself. He made some facetious remark, indeed, about the necessity for having early breakfasts thereafter; but, so far as the deeper aspects of the case were concerned, it was apparent that he had decided to let his son work the matter out for himself.

It was not so with Hal’s mother, however. She was emphatic in her protests against the severity and humiliation of his punishment. She could not see why a boy’s prank should be treated so seriously, even though it had ended in an unfortunate accident. She feared that early breakfasts would ruin her son’s digestion, and that a month of hard labor with no opportunity for play would result in his becoming a confirmed invalid. Her lamentations, however, did not greatly affect Hal’s composure. She had always loved and petted him and tried to shield him from the rough places in life, and it was but natural that she should take a somewhat exaggerated and pessimistic view of the present situation.

On the following Monday morning, at ten minutes before seven, Hal presented himself at the armory, ready for work. Ben Barriscale was already there, but Superintendent McCrae had not yet arrived. The building was practically completed and it was the interior finishing that was now, for the most part, occupying the attention of the workmen.

As Hal entered the large drill-hall he saw Ben standing on the farther side of it, and crossed over to meet him. He greeted him pleasantly, but the ironmaster’s son was not responsive, and seemed to be in anything but a cheerful mood.

“Well,” asked Hal in an effort to be companionable, “what do you suppose they’ll put us at?”

“I don’t know,” was the blunt reply. “And I don’t care much. Whatever the job is I’m sick of it already.”

Hal tried to be encouraging. “That isn’t the way to look at it,” he protested. “We’re into it, we’ve got to make the best of it. Maybe we can find a little sport in it after all. Let’s try.”

“You’re welcome to work like a common laborer if you want to, and get what fun out of it you can. I don’t fancy the prospect.”

Ben turned away and started to cross the hall alone. But he evidently changed his mind, for he wheeled around and came back to where Hal was standing.

“Say,” he asked abruptly, “was that your gang that put the sign on our gate-post Hallowe’en?”

“You mean the sign ‘Puppies for sale’?”

“That’s what I mean.”

“Yes; that was our crowd.”

“Was it you that wrote on that sign: ‘Young Ben is the only puppy left’?”

“No; I didn’t write it.”

“Who did write it?”

“I don’t choose to tell.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not. Would you give another fellow away if you were in my place?”

“I would if he did as mean and contemptible a trick as that.”

“I don’t admit that it was mean and contemptible.”

“Then you’re ready to stand for it, are you?”

The voices of the two boys in controversy had attracted the attention of some workmen who were standing near, awaiting the blowing of the seven o’clock gong, and they moved over to the scene of the quarrel.

“The stout one’s Mr. Barriscale’s son,” said one of the men, “and the other one is Captain McCormack’s boy. I know ’em both.”

“Well,” was the response, “they’re both blue-bloods; let ’em fight it out, an’ see who’s the best fellow.”

By this time both boys were too excited to notice the gathering men or to hear their comments. Ben’s voice had grown louder as his anger increased, his face was deeply flushed, and his eyes had a dangerous look in them.

“I’m ready,” replied Hal, “to stand for anything my crowd did that night. That’s why I’m the only one of ’em here this morning.”

“Then I’ll make you sorry you’re here.”

In a fit of uncontrollable passion Ben made a blind lunge at his companion in punishment, and by the very violence and suddenness of the onset he almost swept him off his feet. But Hal’s lightness and agility stood him in good stead, and, after yielding for a moment, he braced himself for the contest and held his ground. He was the taller of the two boys, the more athletic and the more agile. But Ben’s greater weight and stockiness gave him the advantage in the first onrush, and, had he been able skilfully to follow up the attack, his quick victory would have been a foregone conclusion. As it was, the combatants were not unequally matched.

The onlookers, augmented in numbers by other workmen who had been attracted to the scene, gathered now in the conventional ring about the fighters. The primal instinct, only veneered by centuries of civilization, showed itself in the avidity with which they gazed on the combat, and in the calls and cries of encouragement they gave, each to his individual favorite.

The boys were now struggling and writhing in each other’s arms. A full minute they wrestled so; then came the fall. It was swift, sudden and disastrous. The crash of it echoed through the great, empty hall. In disentangling himself from the prone figure beneath him Ben met with no resistance. His antagonist lay with closed eyes, limp and insensible, on the armory floor. At this moment Superintendent McCrae came pushing his way through the narrow ring of spectators.

“What’s all this about?” he asked. “What’s happened?”

“It’s a fight,” some one answered. “The stout fellow put the other one to sleep.”

The superintendent turned his gaze from the swiftly paling countenance of the boy on the floor to the hardly less colorless face of his victorious antagonist.

“A fight, is it!” he exclaimed. “Mayhap and it’s a tragedy.”

He knelt on the floor at Hal’s side, felt of his wrists, and tore open his collar and jacket.

“Here you, Bill!” he called, “run for some water. And you, Henry, telephone for a doctor, and get a cab. Who the dickens are these fellows, anyway?”

Ben began to stammer an answer, but before any intelligible words had left his mouth the superintendent interrupted him.

“Oh, I know!” he exclaimed. “You’re Mr. Barriscale’s son, and this is Captain McCormack’s boy. I had the letter. Here, Bill, give me the water.”

He poured a little from the glass into his hand and dashed it into Hal’s face, and repeated the process twice. Then he began chafing the boy’s wrists. Some one suggested that the victim be carried to a bench or chair.

“No,” replied McCrae. “Let him lie here. He’s better off on his back till the doctor comes. Some one lend me a jacket, though, to put under his head.”

In a second Ben had stripped off his coat and handed it to the superintendent, who folded it and placed it gently under Hal’s head.

The workmen, awed by the tragic result of the fight, began melting away, discussing as they went the possible cause of the quarrel and its probable results. At last, with the exception of one or two foremen and the superintendent, all the men were gone, and Ben stood, almost alone, by the side of his victim. He was stunned and awe-stricken. He had not dreamed that such a thing could happen.

“I didn’t mean to knock him out,” he said finally. “I wouldn’t have hurt him like this for the world. What shall I do about it, Mr. McCrae?”

“Oh,” was the reply, “just stick around here till the doctor comes, and he’ll tell us all what to do. It’s no’ very bad, I guess. He’s breathin’ all right now.”

The doctor was not long in coming. His office was but two blocks away, and the messenger who had been sent for him had made great haste. He examined the boy carefully, but found nothing wrong except that an area on the back of his head was already swollen and showed a marked abrasion. There was no fracture, however.

“It’s a slight concussion,” said the doctor. “Probably struck his head violently when he fell. He’ll come to after a little, but I guess we’d better take him home.”

The cab was already at the armory entrance, and McCrae and the doctor, between them, lifted the still unconscious boy and carried him to it. The motion seemed to rouse him, and he opened his eyes and began to mutter something about being responsible for what the crowd had done.

“You’d best go home,” said McCrae, addressing Ben. “You won’t be fit to work this morning anyway. If we need you I’ll call you up. Oh, say; suppose you telephone to Captain McCormack that his boy is slightly hurt and we’re takin’ him home.”

He squeezed his big body into the cab, which the doctor had already entered; and Hal, supported by the two men, was driven rapidly to his father’s house.