“I’ll risk that!” cried Sam hotly. “And I’ll even the score at the first chance I get.”
This decision, warmly admired and praised by the club, seemed to be in a fair way for accomplishment on Monday when Sam, walking alone to school, met Orkney at a street corner.
Meditation had cooled his anger, but had not lessened his determination to have a speedy accounting. He put himself in Orkney’s path, and gave him monosyllabic greeting.
“Huh!” It must be confessed that there was a distinctly challenging note in Sam’s growl.
“Huh!” responded Orkney. In fairness it is to be stated that he betrayed no sign of anxiety; and instead of halting, stepped aside and passed the boy holding the center of the walk.
Sam turned, and overtook him in three long strides. Then they moved on together, but with a space of three or four feet between them.
Orkney gazed straight before him. The sullenness of his expression may have been a trifle more marked than usual. Sam, studying him from the corner of an eye, decided that his enemy was merely playing a waiting game.
There was a moment’s silence. Then said Sam, very grimly:
“This thing has got to stop—see?”
The tone was more impressive than the words. Orkney stopped, and inspected the other coolly.