Evan, obeying directions, turned and passed the group again in search of his room. He paid no heed to the challenge, for he was much too tired to get really angry. But he didn’t take the scowl from his face, and the boy in the doorway saw it. “Look pleasant, kid,” he continued threateningly. He pushed his way through the laughing group and overtook Evan a little way down the hall. He was a big chap, good-looking in a heavy way, and seemed to be about seventeen years old. He placed a hand on Evan’s shoulder and with a quick jerk swung him around with his back to the wall. Evan dropped his bag and raised his hands defensively. “What do you want?” he demanded. “Didn’t I tell you to look pleasant?” growled his tormentor, with an ugly grin on his features. “Didn’t I? Well, do it!” “You let me alone,” said Evan, the blood rushing into his cheeks. “Of course I’ll let you alone, kid; when I get ready. Off with that scowl; do you hear?” “You take it off!” answered Evan, pushing the other away from him. “The new one’s game!” cried the tall youth. The others were flocking about them. Evan’s arms were beaten down swiftly and pinned to his sides in a strong grip, and a hand was passed roughly over his face, hurting so that, in spite of him, the tears rushed to his eyes. With an effort he shook off the other’s grip, stumbled over the suit-case, and staggered against a door. The next moment he was falling backward, the door giving way behind him. He landed on his back, his head striking the thinly carpeted floor with a force that made him see all sorts and sizes of blue stars and for an instant quite dazed him. Then he heard a drawling voice somewhere at the back of the room say: [Illustration: “‘LOOK PLEASANT, KID,’ HE CONTINUED THREATENINGLY.”] “Welcome to my humble domicile.” When he opened his eyes, his assailant was standing over him, and the group in the doorway held several anxious faces. “Aren’t hurt, are you?” asked the cause of his mishap. “Give me your hand.” Evan obeyed and was pulled to his feet. He had quite forgotten his anger. “I’m all right,” he said dully, feeling of the back of his head. “That’s right,” said the other, with a note of relief in his voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was the door, you see.” “Up to your tricks again, eh, Hop?” It was the drawling voice Evan had heard a moment before, and its owner, a tall, somewhat lanky boy, came into view around the table. “You’ve got the keenest sense of humor, Hop, I ever met with. Why didn’t you drop him out of the window?” “Oh, you dry up, Rob. I didn’t do anything to him. The door was unlatched, and he fell against it. It’s none of your business, anyway.” “It’s my business if I like to make it mine,” was the reply. He pulled up a chair and waved Evan toward it. “Sit down and get your breath,” he directed. Evan obeyed, his gaze studying the youth called Hop.