“He ought to have had his head knocked off,” growled Skeets.
“It would take more than you fellows to knock my head off,” returned Hicksley belligerently.
“You’d probably get along as well without it as with it,” retorted Fred. “We knocked your cap off anyway, and I notice that you changed your seat just as we told you to.”
“That was because the conductor came along,” replied Hicksley. “And it’s a mighty good thing for you that he did. If he hadn’t I’d have knocked you into the middle of next week.”
“You couldn’t knock me into to-morrow, let alone the middle of next week,” returned Fred, who was now thoroughly aroused.
“Come, come, Fred,” said Bobby soothingly. “There’s no use in getting into a temper about this fellow. He isn’t worth it.”
“I’ll show you whether I’m worth it or not,” cried Hicksley, in a rage. “Don’t you think for a minute that you’ve heard the last of this. There were four of you fellows last night, and there are three of you now. But I’ll catch each one of you alone some time, and I’ll tan each one of you within an inch of your life.”
“You’d better try it,” answered Fred. “You’d be afraid to tackle a live one. All you’re good for is to torment a helpless old man. You’re a nice fellow, you are.”
The quarrel, although it was none of the boys’ seeking, was growing so hot that it was perhaps just as well that Mr. Carrier, one of the teachers, should come walking briskly along just at that moment. He saw from their flushed faces that something unpleasant was in the wind, but thought it just as well to ignore it rather than give it importance by taking notice of it.
“Good morning, boys,” he called cordially. “It’s just about time for meeting in the main hall. I’m going over there now, and you’d better come along with me.”