“As I have,” supplied Hal, bitterly. Barry stared unbelievingly. “Why, Clyde!” he faltered. “Well, you heard me,” muttered Clyde. “I mean it, too. I wish to goodness I’d let you drown that time, you little shrimp!” “Clyde,” asked Barry, rather white now, “did it ever occur to you that you might be taking too much credit for that――that rescue?” “Just what do you mean?” asked the other, staring. “I mean that if you had let me alone I’d have been perfectly safe. I’m as good a swimmer as you, and you know perfectly well that you wouldn’t have drowned that day if you’d been in my place. I’ve never said this before――” Clyde’s laughter broke in. “No, and you’ve got a lot of cheek to be saying it now! You never have shown much gratitude, but this is the limit! Did you hear that, Hal? Why, he was ready to give up when I got to him! I didn’t save you from drowning, eh? Like fun I didn’t! Queer it’s never occurred to you before! I’ll bet your folks don’t think your way. Oh, you make me ill!” “Sorry,” said Barry, dryly. “I tried to do what you wanted me to, Clyde, and I couldn’t. I’m sorry about that, too. And I wish we hadn’t quarreled.” “Oh, go sell your papers!” sneered Clyde. “And don’t look to me for any more help. I’m through. You don’t know the meaning of gratitude! Lying about me saving your life! You’re――you’re sickening!” So Barry closed the door behind him and went hurriedly downstairs and out of the building, not very far from tears. But the frosty night air worked an instant miracle. He shouldn’t have said what he had about the life-saving incident. He hadn’t meant to. Of course Clyde hadn’t believed him. He never would. Clyde had been unjust and had said perfectly uncalled-for things, but he had been horribly disappointed, and Hal had egged him on; and then he, Barry, had gone and made things worse by saying that Clyde hadn’t saved his life! By the time he reached the road Barry had thought up enough mitigating circumstances to make Clyde’s conduct almost reasonable. He still felt hurt, but of course Clyde hadn’t really meant all he had said and would be sorry to-morrow. As for his threat of hurting Barry’s chances on the team, why, that had been just talk. Clyde would never do anything dirty; not even now, when he had changed so much from the Clyde that Barry used to know. Barry didn’t go into details in his report to Peaches. He just said that Clyde had been disappointed and rather peeved. But Peaches, discerning in the other’s countenance traces of a recent mental disturbance, drew his own conclusions. All he said was: “Well, that’s off your mind, Barry. Now you can buckle down and give yourself unreservedly to the task of saving our dear old Alma Mater――Heaven help her!” CHAPTER XVI MR. BENJY LOSES INTEREST