"Noble boy!" murmured Rector.
"Very considerate, indeed," observed the Professor dryly.
"Why didn't you call for help?" asked Cale.
"I had use for my breath," replied Stacy quickly. "I couldn't yell without taking my mind off the brute. Then he would have finished me. After a while I did think of the knife. At the first opportunity I whipped it out and gave him one out across the neck. But, sir, I didn't let go until he fell over. I almost went down with him. Then he fell over and I let out a yell."
"That is the most dramatic account I have ever listened to," observed Cale soberly.
"Most remarkable," added the Professor, stroking his beard.
"What a star Chunky would be in the Fibbers' Club," grumbled Ned Rector.
"And that's how I did it," finished the fat boy, beginning to whistle through his teeth as he strolled back and forth with hands in his pockets. Stacy Brown was now thoroughly convinced that he was in a class all by himself. He had suspected as much before. Now he knew it. But a day of unhappiness was at hand when the fat boy would wish he never had come into the big woods.