"Ben, I know you're sore, but if you say that I, or any of my friends told on you, then you're going too far."
"You did!" asserted young Alvord. "You blabbed!"
"I didn't, and we didn't; not one of us."
"That's all right to say after you're caught," flared Ben.
"Then you call us liars?" flashed Dave Darrin, pushing his way forward, his fists clenched.
"You are, if you say you didn't blab!" panted Ben.
"Fight! fight!" chorused some of the boys.
"Get back, Dave, and keep cool," warned Dick, pushing his chum to the rear. "This thing started with me, and it's my affair first of all. Ben Alvord, look at me! I don't want to fight. I don't believe in fighting when it can be helped. I know you're sore, too, for you've just had a rough time of it after what you thought was fun on Hallowe'en. But you're going too far when you say we blabbed on you, for we didn't."
"Who did, then?" sneered Ben.
"I don't know. I'm not the chief of police. But, just because you can't think who told on you, you needn't come along and accuse us."