"I did!" admitted Purcell, promptly. Abner Cantwell sprang at this second "offender." But Purcell threw himself quickly into an attitude of defence.
"Keep your hands off of me, Mr. Cantwell, or I'll knock you down!"
"Good!"
"That's the talk!"
The excited High School boys came crowding about the principal and Purcell. Bristow was swept back by the surging throng. He had his handkerchief out, now, at his forehead.
"Some of you young men seize Purcell and march him to my private office," commanded the principal, who had lacked the courage to strike at the young fellow who stood waiting for him.
"Will you fight Purcell like a man, if we do?" asked another voice.
"Run Cantwell out! He isn't fit to be here!" yelled another voice.
Mr. Drake, the only submaster in the room at the time, was pushing his way forward.
"Calmly, boys, calmly," called Drake. "Don't do anything you'll be sorry for afterwards."