Obediently, Hugh stopped laving his face and Bert took stock of the contusions and lacerations. “Your eye will be a wonder tomorrow,” he murmured admiringly. “And you won’t be able to talk very well for a day or two with that lip. Was he wearing brass-knuckles, for the love of Mike? That cut on your cheek isn’t much――when it stops bleeding. Wait till I get some peroxide. Keyes has a bottle. Keep on sponging. I’ll be right back.” When he returned Hugh, in spite of directions, had ceased using the sponge and was thoughtfully studying two pairs of bruised and swollen knuckles, wiggling his left thumb experimentally the while. “Well,” exclaimed Bert, “you must have got in a few on him from the looks of those! Thumb hurt?” “Not much, I fancy. I was afraid maybe it was sprained. I say, Bert, I can’t go to supper, eh?” Bert, sousing peroxide on a corner of a towel and dabbing his friend’s face, considered a moment. “Well,” he said finally, “you _could_, but I wouldn’t advise it, Duke. Some of the faculty are horribly suspicious.” “That’s what I thought.” Hugh sighed. “Well, I’m not awfully hungry.” “I’ll fetch you something from downstairs,” said Bert cheerfully. “And I’d better get word to Crowley, I guess. I’ll say you’ve got a headache. That isn’t very far wrong, is it?” Hugh smiled until it hurt his swollen lip. “It’s right as rain,” he mumbled. “You don’t need to bring me any chow, though. It hurts to move my mouth.” “I’m not going to bring you chow, as you call it,” replied the other, stepping back to view the result of his administrations. “I’ll fetch you up a cup of cocoa and some toast. You can get that down. There now! Got any plaster?” “Yes, in the top drawer there. I’ll get it.” “Hello, what have you done with your silver brushes? And where the dickens did you get those awful things?” “Put them away a week ago. Here it is. Use the flesh-colored. It won’t show so much. I say, what about classes tomorrow?” Bert shrugged. “You ought to have thought of that,” he answered severely, “before you went and did such a fool trick. Look here, what was it all about, anyway? Didn’t you know that Longley could beat you to a pulp? What did I tell you the other day? Didn’t I say――――” “I dare say you did, old dear,” agreed Hugh patiently. “But――_ouch_!” “Well, hold still then. How do you suppose I can――――” “He started on me again after practice and got nasty and I was beastly tired of it. So――so we went down to the boathouse.” “Just you and he?” “No, there was Bowen; chap who plays right guard for us――――” “I know him.” “And young Peet. He’s a silly little ass. I tried to get rid of him, but he would come. He――he giggles.” “Lie down on the bed and rest your face. Did you fight rounds?” “Oh, no, we just dug in and kept it up until Peet――er――buttered in.” “_Butted_ in, Duke; not buttered. What was Peet’s trouble?”