"We weren't doing any harm here," he declared indignantly. "And we'll get out, but we're not afraid of you, even if you have got piano legs!"
The big fellow pulled his hands from his pockets with an angry growl and, clenching his fists, strode toward the boys. But at that instant footsteps sounded in the locker room, and the bully's hands dropped and he turned his head toward the door just as a small, red-haired and freckle-faced little Irishman came into sight.
"Hello, Eric the Red," he said jovially. "An' what might you be doin' down here, me boy?"
"I'm telling these fresh kids to get out of here," replied the youth. "Any objections?"
The little Irishman seemed surprised, and he smiled, but the boys noted that his small and rather greenish eyes narrowed.
"None at all, at all, me boy. If I had I'd very soon tell you, d'ye see? But what harm are they doin'? Sure, if I don't mind them bein' here, why would you?"
"They haven't any business in this room, and you know it, Danny. They're too fresh, anyway."
"Well, that's what we all are at some time. Let the boys be. Was you wantin' anything, boys?"
"No, we were just looking around the place. This door was open and we came in. We didn't know there was any harm in it," concluded Steve.
"No more there was," said Danny soothingly.