HOW SAM TOLD IT
For a few seconds there was silence in Tom's room. All eyes were fixed on Bruce Bennington, but the latter bore the scrutiny well. Then came gasps of surprise, and one or two mutterings. Bruce heard them, and smiled.
"Come!" he invited with a laugh. "Out with it. I know what you are thinking. Speak up, Tom—and the rest of you."
"Did you—did you really mean that?" asked Tom slowly, "or was it a joke?"
"It wasn't a joke, certainly. I'm in earnest," and the smile faded from the face of Bruce Bennington.
"But what do you mean?" insisted Tom. "After the way those fellows treated Jack and Bert—to say nothing of having practically stolen my motorboat, together with the help of the old hermit and Mr. Skeel—not to do anything to 'em!"
"That's it, Tom. Let it drop, is my advice."
"But why? I can't see why, Bruce."
"Because it will make a heap of trouble in the school, that's why. Look here, Tom. You know you and Sam, to say nothing of Nick, haven't been on good terms from the start; have you?"
"No, but it was Sam's fault. I had no quarrel with him."