“Impossible!”
“They did,” persisted Davis. “Four or five fellers asked me about it just as soon’s I got to the academy this morning.”
“I don’t see how any one could know,” muttered the boy from Texas, in perplexity.
“I’ve been thinkin’ it over. There was only one way: somebody must have followed us and peeked in at the winder.”
“I hope not,” said Rod, tapping the chair restlessly with his knuckles. “What did you tell the fellows who questioned you?”
“Nothin’; I just denied everything flat. Say, have you seen Bunk to-day?”
“No.”
“Nor I. Jingoes! but you did slam him around fierce. You scat me when you took to chokin’ him that way. I never saw anybody look so savage in my life as you did, and I swear I thought you meant to kill him.”
Rodney Grant shrugged his shoulders, and it almost seemed as if he shivered a bit.
“I lost my temper, Spotty, and that’s a bad thing for anybody to do—especially bad for me. I’m glad you grabbed my wrists and shouted at me just as you did, for it sort of brought me to my senses.”