On Monday morning Rod was early at the academy, waiting for Springer and Piper. He paid no apparent heed to the disdainful, contemptuous looks of the boys who saw him posted there on the steps; nevertheless, he took note of their manner and felt fierce, resentful wrath burning in his heart.

The girls likewise regarded him with open aversion. Sadie Springer and Lelia Barker, coming up the path together, beheld the defiant young Texan and exchanged words concerning him. It was natural enough that Lelia should espouse her brother’s cause and hold the same opinions regarding Grant; however, for some reason which he himself could not understand, her remark, distinctly heard as she mounted the steps, cut him keenly.

“Why, Sadie,” she said, evidently speaking for his ears as well as those of her companion, “he’s a perfect young ruffian. No one else would do things he has done.”

In many ways Lelia was unlike her brother. She was headstrong and impulsive, and, while Berlin was coldly cautious and calculating, she had often betrayed a daring and almost reckless disposition. He had never been pronouncedly popular, but Lelia was both liked and admired by nearly all the girls and boys of the school. They had never exchanged a word, but Rod, had he analyzed his true feelings, would have found that he also entertained a strong liking for Lelia.

He forgot her in a moment, however, as he saw Phil Springer and Roger Eliot turn in at the gate, with Piper and some other fellows a short distance behind.

“Springer,” said Rod, descending the steps to meet him, “I want to have a little talk with you. You, too, Piper; I’d like to ask you fellows some questions.”

They regarded him coldly, repellantly, Sleuth’s lips taking on a curl of disdain.

Rod continued quickly: “According to Barker, you fellows were with him when he found my silk handkerchief Saturday morning. Is that right?”

“Absolutely correct,” answered Piper, while Springer merely nodded.

“You were following the tracks of some one supposed to have shot Barker’s dog, were you?”

“We were hot on the trail of the scoundrel,” said Sleuth. “Only for the snowstorm, we’d tracked him to his lair.”

“Did you see Barker find my handkerchief?”

“You bet we did.”

“He claims to have found it hanging on a bush. Were you near at hand when he made the discovery?”

“Phil was about five feet behind him, and I was close behind Phil,” replied Sleuth.

“Are you positive Barker did not hang the handkerchief on the bush and then call your attention to it?”

Springer suddenly burst into derisive laughter.

“Now what do you think of that!” he cried. “If that isn’t about the poorest attempt I ever knew of to struggle out of a thing, I’ll eat my huh-hat! It won’t do, Mr. Grant—it won’t dud-do.”

“Not at all,” agreed Piper sternly. “Berlin called our attention to the handkerchief before he’d even reached it. He didn’t have a chance to hang it there.”

“That’s all I want to know,” said Rod quietly, “and I’m much obliged to you.”

“Don’t mention it,” returned Sleuth cuttingly.

Barker reached the academy barely in time to escape being late for the opening of the morning session. As he seated himself at his desk his eyes were turned in the direction of Rodney Grant some distance away, but already Rod had a book open before him and was apparently quite oblivious to his surroundings. And all through the forenoon the young Texan gave constant attention to his books and recitations, not even seeming aware of the fact that the other boys drew away from him in classes, leaving him alone and solitary. Even at intermission he succeeded in maintaining his demeanor undisturbed, although with half an eye and no ears at all he could not have failed to take note of the sneers and disdain of his schoolmates.

As the deep snow had obliterated the path across lots, it was necessary for him to take a roundabout course through the village in order to reach his aunt’s home; and, on his way for midday lunch, turning up Main Street from the square, he perceived several fellows blocking the sidewalk in front of Hyde’s livery stable. Instantly he knew there was trouble impending, but not even for an instant did he hesitate or slacken his steady stride. Rollins, Tuttle, Cooper, Piper, Springer—they were all there. Barker was there, too, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, his gaze fixed on the approaching lad, for whom he was plainly waiting, and Rod knew they had made haste to reach this spot ahead of him.

Within Grant’s heart a voice seemed calling warningly: “Steady! Be careful! You know what may happen if you lose your head.” But they had sneered at him as a coward, they had branded him as a braggart and a quitter, and now the time had come when his manhood would no longer permit him to betray the slightest wavering; so, with his face a trifle pale, but his eyes shining dangerously, and every nerve in his body keyed, he went forward.

Barker held his place in the middle of the sidewalk; unless he turned aside a bit Rod must brush against him. Their eyes met, and suddenly Berlin cried:

“Hold on a minute, you dog-killing whelp! I told you what I’d do if the law wasn’t sufficient to make you settle for that dirty piece of business, and now you can’t get away unless you turn your back and run for it.”

“Barker,” said Grant, and there was something in his voice that surprised those waiting, staring lads, “I turned my back on you once, and I’ve been mortally ashamed of it ever since, even though it was for your own good, as well as my own, that I did so. You’ve pushed me too far, and I’ll never turn again; but I warn you that you’d better step aside right lively and let me pass.”

“Ha! ha!” laughed Berlin, in derisive contempt. “You’re as brave as a cornered rat.”

“Sometimes a cornered rat is dangerous. Get out of my way!”

“I will when I’m through with you—I’ll get out of your way and let you crawl home after you’ve had the thrashing of your life.” As he uttered this threat Berlin, having his coat already unbuttoned, suddenly snapped it off and flung it into the waiting hands of Sleuth Piper. “I’m going to smash your face!” he shouted. “I’ll teach you to shoot inoffensive dogs, you cheap cur!”

He sprang forward with the final insulting word on his lips and aimed a blow at Grant’s mouth. Quick as a flash the young Texan ducked and sidestepped, permitting Berlin’s fist to shoot over his shoulder. Untouched, he drove his own right fist with staggering force against the solar plexus of his assailant, stopping that rush in a twinkling; in another twinkling the knuckles of his left hand crashed full and fair on the point of Barker’s jaw, and the would-be avenger of Silver Tongue crumpled like a frost-struck autumn leaf and went down.

It was done so quickly that the boys who had gathered to see Berlin thrash the Texan scarcely had time to catch a breath before they beheld Grant, his fists clenched, his face ashen and terrible, his lips drawn back from his set teeth, standing over the fallen fellow as if ready to leap upon him as he lay and beat out of his body what breath of life might linger there. But it was Grant’s eyes that terrified them the most, for they were the eyes of a wild beast aroused to the most frightful fury; and Piper, dropping the coat and falling back, screamed aloud:

“Stop him, fellers—stop him, or he’ll kill Bern sure!”

Somehow it seemed as if that cry brought Rodney Grant to his senses, for slowly his fists unclenched and his hands dropped at his sides, while, with a hissing sound like the intake of steam, he drew a long breath that filled his chest to its utmost capacity.

“Don’t worry,” he said, and there was something of that same indescribable, awesome touch in his voice; “I won’t touch him again. The poor fool can’t fight, anyhow. I’ve tried to keep peaceable and decent; but, now that you’ve made it impossible for me to do so, if there are any friends of his present who want to take up his fight I sure hope they won’t be backward about it; for we may as well have the matter settled right now, to prevent any further uncertainty or annoyance.”

But there was no one who showed the slightest desire to take up this challenge, even Rollins, who had once browbeaten and insulted the boy from Texas, slinking behind Chub Tuttle’s roly-poly body in a way that plainly betokened an amazing respect for Grant’s fighting powers, at least. Seeing this, the faintest shadow of an inexpressibly contemptuous smile flitted across the defiant lad’s face.

“All right,” he said, “I’ll leave you to doctor up your indiscreet friend, who, I reckon, will come round all right in a few minutes.” He passed on, and they took care to give him room.

“Jinks!” breathed Piper, as Barker stirred slightly and uttered a faint sound which caused Springer to kneel hastily beside him. “I told you that feller was a perfect fiend to fight. I knew, for didn’t I see him handle Lander!”