Dave retired to the washroom and there bathed his face and hands, and combed his hair. The blood soon stopped flowing from his chin and the scratch showed but little. Many wanted to congratulate him on his victory, but he motioned them away.
"Thank you, boys, but I don't want you to do that," he said, quietly. "I want to tell you plainly that I don't believe in fighting any more than Dr. Clay does. It's brutal to fight, and that is all there is to it. But every fellow ought to know how to defend himself, and when he is attacked as I was he has got to do the best he can for himself. If Jasniff hadn't pitched into me roughshod I should never have fought with him."
"Do you really mean that, Porter?" asked a voice from the other side of the washroom, and Andrew Dale stepped out from behind a high roller-towel rack. The first assistant teacher had come in just as the encounter was ending.
"Oh, is that you, Mr. Dale? Yes, sir, I do mean it," answered Dave. "Did you see the fight, may I ask?"
"I saw Jasniff attack you with the Indian club, but I was too far off to take a hand. You say he attacked you first?"
"He did, and some of those here can prove it."
"That's right," said several of the students.
"What was the quarrel about?"
"It began between Plum and myself. Plum was browbeating Frank Bond and I told him to stop. Then Jasniff put in his say, and I told him it was none of his business. Then he wanted to know if I wanted to fight, and I told him I preferred not to dirty my hands on him. Then he shoved me and struck me two or three times. Then—well, then I sailed in and knocked him down twice. Then he got the Indian club, and you know the rest."
"That's the truth of it, Mr. Dale," said Frank.