There was a rumbling series of crashes, followed by a roar which echoed through the corridors. Darrin turned quickly. "I'd better get going," he said, "before I get caught in the stampede. Should be able to sneak up the back stairs right now. See you later." He strode away. Michaels nodded and sat down, opening a notebook. Students commenced rushing into the locker room and the roar in the hall was almost drowned out by the continuous clash and slam of locker doors. Don paid little attention, concentrating on his notes. At last, the noise died down and Don looked up. Except for one slender figure, crouched by an open locker, the room was empty. Don looked at the boy curiously. He was a typical Khlorisana--olive skinned, slightly built, somewhat shorter than the average galactic. Don looked with a touch of envy at the smooth hairline, wondering why it was that the natives of this planet always seemed to have a perfect growth of head fur which never needed the attention of a barber. He rubbed his own unruly hair, then shrugged. "Hate to change places with Pete Waern now, though," he told himself. "Wonder where he stands in this business." * * * * * Hurrying footsteps sounded in the corridor and three latecomers rushed in. As Waern straightened to close his locker door, the leader of the group crashed into him. "Hey," he demanded, "what's the idea trying to trip me?" He paused, looking at the boy closely. "Oh, you again! Still trying to be a big man, huh?" He placed a hand on Waern's chest, pushing violently. "Out of our way, trash." Pete Waern staggered back, dropping his books. A notebook landed on its back and sprang open, to scatter paper over the floor. He looked at the mess for an instant. One of the three laughed. "That's how you show 'em, Gerry." Pete stared angrily at his attacker. "What do you think you're doing?" The three advanced purposefully. One seized Pete by an arm, swinging him about violently. Another joined him and between them, they held the smaller lad firmly. Gerry swung an open hand jarringly against Pete's face. "Guess you're going to have to have a little lesson in how to talk to your betters," he snarled. He drew back a fist. Don Michaels had come out of his chair. He strode over to the group, to face the attacker. "Just exactly what _do_ you think you're doing?" he demanded icily. "Who do you think you are?" Don touched a small bronze button in his lapel. "I'm one of the guys that's supposed to keep order around this place," he said. "We've got self-government in this school, remember?" He swung about to confront the two who still held Waern. "Now, suppose you turn this guy loose and start explaining yourselves." Gerry placed a large hand on Don's shoulder, kneading at the muscles suggestively.