In summer it was a favorite thoroughfare, especially for young engaged couples who wanted to loiter along the road, chatting and picking wild flowers. In winter, however, the place was usually deserted, being more than a mile out of the city. As Tip lingered he caught sight of haughty Fred Ripley coming down the road at a fast walk. Fred looked both angry and worried. Tip, as soon as he caught sight of the young fellow who imagined himself an "aristocrat," began to grin in his evil way. A dull, sullen, red fired Fred's cheeks when he caught sight of the one who was waiting for him. "Ye're most nearly on time," Tip informed the other. "See here, Scammon, what in blazes did you mean by sending me a note like the one I got from you" demanded Fred? Tip only grinned. "What did you mean, fellow?" Ripley insisted angrily. "I meant to get ye here, to let ye know what I had to say to ye," Scammon retorted. "Why, confound you, fellow---" Fred began, stuttering a bit, but the other cut in on him in short fashion. "None o' that to me, now, Fred Ripley. D'ye hear? Me an' you used to be pretty good pals, once on a time." At this charge, Fred winced very plainly. "And maybe we'll be pals, now, too," Tip pursued, with the air of one who believed himself to be able to dictate terms. "That is, for your sake, I hope we are, Ripley." "What are you talking about? What do you want to see me about? Come to the point in mighty few words," Ripley commanded, impatiently. "Well, now, first-off, last year, before I went away for my health---" Tip grinned in ghastly fashion 'ye hired me to do a certain job for ye. Right, so far, ain't I?" "Possibly," assented Fred, coldly. "Ye hired me to get hold of keys that could be used on one o' the High School locker rooms," Tip went on, cunningly. "Ye hired me to steal some stuff from the coats o' the young gents that study there. Then ye hired me to break inter Dick Prescott's room and get the loot inter his trunk. Right, ain't I?" Tip spoke assertively, making no effort to keep his voice low. "For goodness' sake don't shout it all over four counties," protested Fred Ripley, glancing apprehensively about him. His face was paler, now, from uneasiness. "Oh, I ain't afraid about anyone hearing me," Tip went on, unconcernedly. "D'ye know why, Fred, my boy? Because I done my stretch for the trick, and there ain't nuthin' more comin' to me on that score. If _you're_ 'fraid, jest go an' do yer stretch, like I did, an' then ye won't care who hears or knows!" Tip laughed cunningly. Fred's face darkened. He squirmed, yet found himself afraid to show anger. "So I dropped ye that note, tellin' ye to come here at three this aft'noon," Scammon continued. "I told ye I hoped ye'd find it convenient to come, an' hinted that if ye didn't, ye might wish later, that ye had." "I'm here," retorted the Ripley heir. "Now, what do you want to say to me?"