"You let me go!" he cried. "It's none of your affair. Why don't you let him look after himself, you bullies?"
"That'll do for you, freshie," responded one of the older boys named Fernald. "Don't you call names or you'll get in trouble."
"You'd better do as he says," counselled a quiet voice at Roy's side. "There wouldn't be any satisfaction in licking Ferris, anyway; he's just a coward. Come along and pick up your books."
There was something quietly compelling in the voice, and Roy, ceasing to struggle, looked about panting into the round, good-humored face of a boy of about his own age.
"Come on," said the boy softly. And Roy went.
Together they rescued the scattered books and papers, while on the steps discussion broke out stormily; Otto was being "called down" by the older boys and volubly defended by the youngsters.
When the books were once more under his arms Roy thanked his new friend and, without a glance toward the group on the steps, turned toward the dormitory. When he had gone a few steps he became aware of the fact that the round-faced boy was beside him and looked about in surprise.
"I'm going your way," said the other smilingly. "Going to get my sweater on and go out in the canoe awhile. Do you paddle?"
"No, I never tried it," answered Roy, rubbing the blood from his knuckles where they had been scraped on the gravel and shooting a puzzled glance at the other.
"Well, never too late to learn," responded his companion cheerfully. "Come along down and take a lesson. It's a dandy day for a paddle."