The workmen, awed by the tragic result of the fight, began melting away, discussing as they went the possible cause of the quarrel and its probable results. At last, with the exception of one or two foremen and the superintendent, all the men were gone, and Ben stood, almost alone, by the side of his victim. He was stunned and awe-stricken. He had not dreamed that such a thing could happen. “I didn’t mean to knock him out,” he said finally. “I wouldn’t have hurt him like this for the world. What shall I do about it, Mr. McCrae?” “Oh,” was the reply, “just stick around here till the doctor comes, and he’ll tell us all what to do. It’s no’ very bad, I guess. He’s breathin’ all right now.” The doctor was not long in coming. His office was but two blocks away, and the messenger who had been sent for him had made great haste. He examined the boy carefully, but found nothing wrong except that an area on the back of his head was already swollen and showed a marked abrasion. There was no fracture, however. “It’s a slight concussion,” said the doctor. “Probably struck his head violently when he fell. He’ll come to after a little, but I guess we’d better take him home.” The cab was already at the armory entrance, and McCrae and the doctor, between them, lifted the still unconscious boy and carried him to it. The motion seemed to rouse him, and he opened his eyes and began to mutter something about being responsible for what the crowd had done. “You’d best go home,” said McCrae, addressing Ben. “You won’t be fit to work this morning anyway. If we need you I’ll call you up. Oh, say; suppose you telephone to Captain McCormack that his boy is slightly hurt and we’re takin’ him home.” He squeezed his big body into the cab, which the doctor had already entered; and Hal, supported by the two men, was driven rapidly to his father’s house. CHAPTER III When Ben reached home on the morning of the encounter at the armory he found his father still at breakfast. Mr. Barriscale looked up in surprise as his son entered the dining-room. “What brings you back at this hour?” he inquired. “We had a little accident up at the armory,” was the reply, “and Mr. McCrae thought I’d better come home.” “So? What happened?” Ben went around to his accustomed place at the table and seated himself. “I don’t want any more breakfast,” he said to his mother who was already giving directions to the maid for serving him. “Why, father, you see it was this way. A crowd of fellows put that sign up on our gate-post Hallowe’en, about puppies for sale. You know. You saw it. It said I was the only puppy left.” Mr. Barriscale repressed a smile and replied: “Yes, I saw it. What about it?” “Well, Hal McCormack was in that crowd. I tried to get him to tell me who wrote that on it, and he wouldn’t. He said he didn’t do it himself, but he wouldn’t tell me who did.” “Well?” “He said he would take the responsibility for it; so I started in to give him a thrashing.”