Gilbert took the morning train to the town of Edgewood Center, the residence of the Crawfords. He had been there before, and knew that Carl’s home was nearly a mile distant from the station. Though there was a hack in waiting, he preferred to walk, as it would give him a chance to think over what he proposed to say to Dr. Crawford in Carl’s behalf. He was within a quarter of a mile of his destination when his attention was drawn to a boy of about his own age, who was amusing himself and a smaller companion by firing stones at a cat that had taken refuge in a tree. Just as Gilbert came up, a stone took effect, and the poor cat moaned in affright, but did not dare to come down from her perch, as this would put her in the power of her assailant. “That must be Carl’s stepbrother, Peter,” Gilbert decided, as he noted the boy’s mean face and turn-up nose. “Stoning cats seems to be his idea of amusement. I shall take the liberty of interfering.” Peter Cook laughed heartily at his successful aim. “I hit her, Simon,” he said. “Doesn’t she look seared?” “You must have hurt her.” “I expect I did. I’ll take a bigger stone next time.” He suited the action to the word, and picked up a rock which, should it hit the poor cat, would in all probability kill her, and prepared to fire. “Put down that rock!” said Gilbert, indignantly. Peter turned quickly, and eyed Gilbert insolently. “Who are you?” he demanded. “No matter who I am. Put down that rock!” “What business is it of yours?” “I shall make it my business to protect that cat from your cruelty.” Peter, who was a natural coward, took courage from having a companion to back him up, and retorted: “You’d better clear out of here, or I may fire at you.” “Do it if you dare!” said Gilbert, quietly. Peter concluded that it would be wiser not to carry out his threat, but was resolved to keep to his original purpose. He raised his arm again, and took aim; but Gilbert rushed in, and striking his arm forcibly, compelled him to drop it. “What do you mean by that, you loafer?” demanded Peter, his eyes blazing with anger. “To stop your fun, if that’s what you call it.” “I’ve a good mind to give you a thrashing.” Gilbert put himself in a position of defense. “Sail in, if you want to!” he responded. “Help me, Simon!” said Peter. “You grab his legs, and I’ll upset him.” Simon, who, though younger, was braver than Peter, without hesitation followed directions. He threw himself on the ground and grasped Gilbert by the legs, while Peter, doubling up his fists, made a rush at his enemy. But Gilbert, swiftly eluding Simon, struck out with his right arm, and Peter, unprepared for so forcible a defense, tumbled over on his back, and Simon ran to his assistance. Gilbert put himself on guard, expecting a second attack; but Peter apparently thought it wiser to fight with his tongue. “You rascal!” he shrieked, almost foaming at the mouth; “I’ll have you arrested.” “What for?” asked Gilbert, coolly.