A flush of red waved into Ben’s face. Stung by the inner knowledge of his wrong, this blunt condemnation roused the latent devil in him. He leaped at Justin blindly, and struck him in the face. Justin had never fought any one in his life, nor could he remember that he had ever before been struck in anger. But when that blow fell on his face with stinging force, his head became unaccountably hot, he trembled violently, and with a hoarse cry gurgling from his lips he sprang upon Ben and struck him to the earth with one blow of his fist. Having done that, he drew back, shaken and dismayed. He had knocked Ben Davison down, when but a moment before they had been friends! He stared at Ben, who had dropped heavily to the ground. Already he was remorseful and almost frightened. Ben scrambled up, cursing. “I’ll make you pay for that!” he said, wiping a speck of blood from his trembling lips with his hand. “It—it was your fault! I—” Philip Davison came round the corner of the building upon this scene, having heard the blows and the fall. He saw Ben’s cut and quivering lip, his clothing wet and muddy, and Justin standing before him with hot, flushed face. “You struck Ben?” he cried. Ben was his pride. Justin looked at him, after an appealing glance at Ben. “Yes,” he acknowledged, with humility and a feeling of repentant uneasiness. He had gained Ben’s enmity, and he feared he had lost Philip Davison’s regard, which he valued highly. Ben was crumpling together the wad of bills, and thrust them into his pocket. “Yes, he struck me, but I hit him first,” he confessed. “We had a little quarrel, a few words, that’s all.” Though no larger than Justin, he was older, and it humiliated him to confess even this much. Davison was annoyed and angry. “Go into the house, Ben,” he commanded; “I’ll see you later.” When Ben was gone he turned to Justin. “I’ve tried to do right by you, Justin, and I’ve liked your work; but you must remember that Ben is my son. I can’t think that you had any good reason to strike him.” “I didn’t intend to strike him,” Justin urged, “and I shouldn’t have done so if he hadn’t struck me first.” “Well, I won’t have you two quarreling and fighting. Just remember that, will you?” “He struck me first!” said Justin, sturdily, though deeply troubled by the knowledge that he had offended Philip Davison. Davison followed Ben into the house, leaving Justin weak and bewildered. He had smothered his sudden explosive rage, yet he still felt its influence. That he could have struck Ben in that way seemed incredible; yet he tried to justify the deed to himself. He was about to walk away, when Ben reappeared and came up to him. “Justin, you’re a brick, to stand by a fellow that way! You knocked me down, but I don’t hold it against you, for you can keep your mouth shut.” “You still have that money?” “Of course.” “I haven’t changed my opinion about that!” Ben’s face reddened again.