“That depends. When it comes to getting black eyes——”
“Oh, that was just a—a bump that came my way,” Poke put in hastily. “Not worth mentioning. And say! I’m in a hurry, Sam. Can’t stop to talk to you fellows. ’By!”
So speaking, Poke stepped by his friends, taking care to keep out of arm’s reach, and hurried along the street.
The others did not pursue him. Sam looked at the Trojan, and the Trojan met his gaze unhappily.
“You know what that means?” Sam asked with a touch of sternness.
The Trojan nodded. Poke Green, most peaceful of mortals, had been in a fight; moreover, it was to be suspected that Poke neither had shunned nor now repented the combat.
Sam pressed his advantage. “It means that what I told you is true: that this thing brings in every fellow in the club. We’re standing together; the crowd is backing you, and it’ll back me, for I’m going to need friends as you need ’em. We can’t quit cold, either of us. We’ve got to play the game through, clear up this mess, and win out!”
“How can we win?”
“I don’t know yet, but we will win, if it takes all summer.”
“I don’t see what’s to be done.”