"I don't care!" repeated Jack. "He struck Frank--kicked him when he was down! You know, Browning--you know how Merriwell stood by me on our trip when all the rest of you turned against me, because I was out of sorts. You know how he stood by me when I raved at him. Another fellow would have told me to go to the Old Nick. I haven't forgotten those things. I am ready to do anything for him!" "But if it should happen that you have killed this freshman----" "What then?" "It will go hard with you. A little while ago, in Merriwell's room, you were saying you would kill him. It will look like a premeditated murder." This hit Jack hard, but it did not stagger him. "I can't help it. I did the trick to keep him from killing Merriwell. Merry was down, and that brute was kicking him. No one would dare try to stop Mason with bare hands. I used the best and only means to stop him. If he dies----Well, I'll take my chance with a jury of honest men." Browning felt that Diamond had nerve, for all that he was hot-headed and passionate. "Well, we'll hope the fellow isn't hurt much." Some one was bending over Mason, fanning him, while others were pushing the crowd back. "Get back--give him air! Do you want to smother him to death?" "Smother time, perhaps," chirped Danny Griswold, who could not hold back the pun, for all of the gravity of the situation. The rush had begun and ended so quickly that the faculty did not seem to be aroused. Some of the students were watching for the expected appearance of the professors, however. Water was brought, and Mason's temples were bathed. He continued to breathe hoarsely for some time, plainly drawing his breath with the utmost difficulty, but the sound gradually lessened, and he finally struggled to sit up. "What's the matter? What's the matter?" he growled, harshly. "Let me alone! Let me get up!" Some one offered to help him. "Get out!" he snarled, flinging the fellow off. "What do I want of help? What's the matter with my head? It is whirling." He got up, although it was with the utmost difficulty he could do so, and there he stood in the midst of the crowd, swaying and putting his hands to his head. Some could not believe their eyes. They had not thought it possible Hock Mason could betray weakness. "Somebody struck me!" he harshly grated, glaring around. "Where is he? I'll wring his neck as if he were a chicken! Where is the fellow?" All were silent. "Oh, I'll find out who it is," declared the bully, "and when I do, I'll make him weep tears of blood. I'll make him wish he never had been born. I'll----What's the matter with my head? It's going around--around--around----" He would have fallen, but some of the freshmen caught hold of him, and he was led from the campus toward his room. CHAPTER XLVIII. FACING THE BULLY. The events of that night created a sensation, forming a topic of general conversation.