“I did not!” exclaimed Tom.
“That’s right—stick! We’re with you!” Chad said.
“I’ll fix him!” Clarence muttered.
“Oh, come on back! Sit down! Don’t be foolish!” his friends advised him. But Clarence was hot-headed just then. Unsteadily, he strode over to Tom’s chair. By this time Tom had arisen, for there was a foreboding look of anger on the face of his enemy.
“There! That’s one I owe you!” Clarence exclaimed. He aimed a blow at Tom. It only fell lightly, but Tom was not one to take a blow like that and not reply.
The next instant his fist shot out, met the chin of Clarence squarely with a resounding crack, and the insulting youth fell backward on the grass, lying prone.
CHAPTER XIV
AN EXPLOSION
So suddenly had the “fracas,” as the boys referred to it afterward, taken place, that for the moment no one, not even Tom, knew what to do or say. They all remained, in strained attitudes of surprise, looking at Clarence.
Tom had acted instinctively in striking out, the instinct that causes every lad to want to hit back, once he is hit. In reality there was little of real anger back of Tom’s blow. But it had been effective, that was evident.
“He certainly can hit some,” one of the older cadets remarked in a low voice.