At the time of which we write the feeling between the college lads and the “townies” was rather bitter. Thus it came about that, as soon as Browning’s friends tried to help him, one of the watching toughs cried: “Come on, fellers! Dey’re helpin’ der bloke git erway. It’s our duty ter stop dat.” The gang didn’t care anything for duty, but they had been called upon to do a thing by their leader, and they did not hesitate about jumping in to the policeman’s aid. Thus it came about that, in a very few seconds, a small riot was taking place there on that corner, where, a short time before, all had seemed hilarity and good nature. The little cop clung tenaciously to Browning. “I call on yez to hilp me arrist this spalpane!” he squealed. “We’ll help yer!” declared the leader of the town lads. “Yes you will!” flung back Bart Hodge, the hot color of anger rushing to his face. “Yes you will--not!” Then he went at the leader of the gang, and, before that fellow was aware that he was attacked, Hodge cracked him a blow between the eyes that sent him sprawling. The downfall of their leader seemed to infuriate the others. “Thump ’em! Hammer ’em! Slug ’em!” Uttering these cries, the roughs pitched into the college boys. Fists began to fly, and there was a hot time on that corner without delay. The little cop rapped for assistance. While he was doing this, Browning gave him a twist and a fling that broke his hold and sent him flying into Bart Hodge’s arms. Hodge was thoroughly aroused. “You’re the cause of all this trouble, you little red-headed fool!” he grated. Then, with a display of strength that was astonishing, Bart lifted the officer and hurled him violently against a stone hitching-post. With a gasp and a groan, the policeman dropped down limply and lay on the ground as if he had been shot. Bart was astonished by the remarkable manner in which the little man had been knocked out. He paused and stared at the motionless figure, a feeling of dismay beginning to creep over him, for he realized that his ungovernable temper had once again led him to do an act that he would not have done in his sober moments. “Great Scott!” shakily cried Ned Noon. “You’ve killed him, Hodge!” Bart said nothing, but he felt a pressure about his heart--a sickening sensation. It seemed that Noon was the only one of the party engaged in the struggle who witnessed Bart’s thoughtless act of anger. The others were far too busy among themselves. But all realized the officer had rapped for aid, and they knew other policemen were sure to arrive on the spot very soon. “Got to run for it, fellows!” panted Griswold, as he put in his best licks. “Got to get away, or we’ll all be locked up.” Hodge plunged in to aid the others. He was a perfect tiger. Not even Frank seemed to fight with such fury and be so effective. Bart bowled the “townies” over as if they were tenpins.