"Oh, is it? It's a lie that you swiped Upton's blue-book with his composition in it, I suppose. It's a lie that you were going to use it until Daley went up to your room and found it, I dare say. It's——"
"Yes, it is a lie, and you know it, Sawyer," flamed Steve. "If you tell any story like that around——"
"I'll tell what I please, kid, and you can't stop me." Several fellows came along the passage, viewing the two curiously, and Eric dropped his voice a note. "You stop bothering me, Edwards, or I will tell, and if I do, this place will be too hot for you. We don't like cheaters here——"
Steve sprang at him madly, but Eric stepped aside and Steve's blow went past.
"None of that!" warned Eric in a low, ugly voice. "Ah, you want it, do you?"
Steve hit again and Eric countered and got in a blow on the younger boy's neck that sent him staggering against the wall. Then arms wrapped themselves around Steve and a voice said:
"Here, what's up, Eric? Cut it out, Edwards!"
Steve, struggling, found himself in the firm grasp of Innes, the big first team centre-rush. "He called me a cheat!" he cried angrily. "You let me go, Innes!"
"So he is a cheat," returned Eric contemptuously. "He swiped Carl Upton's French composition and was going to hand it in as his own if Daley hadn't caught him at it!"
"That's a lie!" cried Steve. "Ask Mr. Daley himself! You're saying it because I kept you from making that touchdown, you—you——"