“Who did that?” he demanded, wrathfully.
There was no need to answer. The attitude of Bob, standing directly back of Pug, with the half-emptied cup in his hand and the queer look on his face, told more plainly than words that he was the guilty one.
“Oh, so it’s you again, is it, you sneak!” and Pug fairly snarled the words.
“What do you mean?” demanded Bob, justly angry.
“I mean that you’re trying to make trouble for me again—like the time when you accused me of stealing your crullers. You’re trying to spoil my uniform so I’ll get a call-down. I’ll fix you for this!”
“It was an accident,” insisted Bob. “Some one ran against me, and——”
“Accident my eye!” sneered Pug. “I’ll accident you! I’ll punch you good and proper, that’s what I’ll do!” he yelled, and he leaped back over the bench-seat and advanced toward Bob who stepped back.
A fight was imminent.