“It sure did!” agreed Step.
Sam dug his hands deeper in his pockets. Being human, and companionable, and very fond of Poke and Step, he had been sorely tempted to confide in his friends. But the Major had warned him not to gossip about the affair, and the Major’s wish naturally had great weight. As for Poke’s theory that the story would become known generally, sooner or later—well, Sam had his doubts. So far as he knew, only his parents and the Major shared with him knowledge of what had happened in the woods.
In school that day Sam studied hard and paid close attention to the recitations. That was part of his plan for proving to his father that he could deserve confidence. When the class was dismissed, he made careful selection of the books he would need for home study, and so was a little behind his mates in leaving the building. Within a hundred yards of the school-ground gates, however, he overtook a group of boys, clustered closely about two disputants. One, as he saw, was Step; the other, Tom Orkney.
From a little distance the Shark was regarding the squabble through his big glasses.
“What’s the row about?” Sam asked as he came up.
“Nothing!” said the Shark. “That’s why they’re making such a fuss.”
Sam laughed, but quickly grew serious. Both Step and Tom were talking loudly, each hurling threats and defiance at the other; Step’s long arms were going like a windmill’s, while Orkney’s fists were doubled. From his acquaintance with the methods of adolescent controversy it appeared to be probable that words were about to lead to blows.
“Just one of Orkney’s grouches,” the Shark went on indifferently. “He’s been ruffling his feathers at Step ever since that business in Greek the other day.”
Sam nodded. “That, eh? But they’re going too far—they’ll be mixing it up.”
“Well, Step’s got the reach by fully four inches.”