“Why, you big blower! you wouldn’t dare to strike me!”
“Wouldn’t I?”
With that exclamation, Bart went forward. Roland lifted his cane to strike. Like a panther Hodge leaped, clutched the cane, tore it from the rascal’s grasp, and broke it over his knee.
“That’s all!” breathed the dark-eyed lad, as he flung the broken cane at Roland’s feet. “I won’t hit you, though you deserve it. But if I find that you have been at any dirty work, look out for me! I’ll give you the worst thrashing you ever had!”
“The threat of a bully,” declared Roland. “I don’t mind anything you may say. You had better keep away from me. But I want you to pay me for my cane.”
“You do? Well, it’s likely you will take it out in wanting.”
“We’ll see about that!”
With these words Roland turned and left the room.
Elsie had not interfered, but now she came forward swiftly, and suddenly she put her arms about Bart’s neck, crying:
“I know now that he has done something to Frank! Bart, you must find out about it—you must! If anything has happened to Frank——”