"Hullo!" he continued, stepping forward and grasping Grundy by the shoulder; "what's up? what's the joke?"
"It's only a bit of a fight," said Andson; "they had a row this morning."
"What, d'you mean to say you're fighting that youngster? Why don't you choose some one a bit smaller?" demanded the captain, rather bitterly.
"Well, it's his own doing," growled Grundy. "I offered to let him off, but he wanted to have it out."
"Pshaw!" returned the other. "Look here, I've half a mind to give you two a jolly good 'impot' to keep you out of mischief. Now stop it, d'you hear, or I'll send both your names in to Denson."
Fletcher and Andson had already beaten a retreat, and Grundy was preparing to follow, when Allingford called him back.
"Come," he said, in a kinder tone. "I don't know what your quarrel's about, but finish it up like men, and shake hands."
The boys did as they were told, and though the salutation was not a very hearty one, it helped to extinguish the smouldering sparks of anger which might at some future meeting have been once more fanned into a flame.
Grundy disappeared round the corner of the building; but Allingford remained for a moment or two, watching Jack Vance as he fastened on his collar and resumed his coat.
"Well, what was the row about?"