"He said I might tell you. I guess he was afraid if the fellows learned of it they'd cheer!"
Amy chuckled. "Bet they would, too! Where's my dear old German dictionary?"
The two boys settled down at opposite sides of the table to study. After a few minutes, Clint whose thoughts still dwelt on Penny's tragedy, asked: "What made you think it was Dreer, Amy?"
"Eh? Oh, why, who else would it be? Shut up and let me get this piffle."
But a half-hour later, when Clint closed his Latin book and glanced across, Amy was leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head and a deep frown on his forehead. "All through?" asked Clint enviously.
"Through?" Amy evidently came back with an effort. "No, I wish I were. I was--thinking."
When nine o'clock sounded Clint sighed with relief and closed his book. Amy got up and walked to the window and threw himself on the seat. "Look here," he said finally, "Dreer oughtn't to be allowed to get away with that cute little stunt of his."
"No, but how--"
"I've been thinking." Amy thrust his hands into his pockets and a slow smile spread over his face. "Penny can't touch him, but that doesn't say I can't. I haven't any scholarship to lose."
"But you can't go and knock Dreer down for what he did to someone else," objected Clint.