He spoke quickly, but with characteristic decision and wholly without excitement. Jack jumped, and threw back his head as if he had received a blow across the mouth. Swift temper sprang to his eyes. "What the devil do you mean?" he demanded. "Exactly what I have said," returned Dick briefly. "And perhaps a little more." "Confound you!" blustered Jack. "And you expect me to go to the squire and tell him it was my fault, do you?" "No. I don't expect it in the least." Dick almost laughed. "In fact, nothing would surprise me more. Thank you for telling me the truth. Do you mind clearing out now? I don't want you in here." His curt, cold tones fell like ice on flame. Jack swore a muffled oath and turned away. There was no one in the world who possessed the power to humble him as did Dick, who with a few scorching words could make him writhe in impotent fury. For there was no gainsaying Dick. He was always unassailable in his justice, since in a fashion inexplicable but tacitly acknowledged by both he occupied a higher plane altogether. Ignore it as he might, deep in his inner soul Jack knew this man to be his master. He might, and sometimes did, resist his control, deny his authority; yet the power remained, and Dick knew how to exercise it if the need arose. They were seldom at open variance, but practically never in sympathy. The fate of poor Robin had been a matter of disagreement between them ever since Jack had come to man's estate, but the issue did not rest with Jack. No power on earth could move Dick in that direction. Robin was his own peculiar property, and in this respect he permitted interference from none. He left Jack now, and turned back into the schoolroom with deep lines between his brows, but implacable determination in his every movement, a determination that was directed against the poor cowering form that crouched still in the same position waiting for him. Robin looked up at his coming, drawing himself together with a nervous contraction of the muscles like the mute shrinking of an abject dog. Dick stopped in front of him. "So you're not going to take a caning!" he said. There was no longer any rebellion in Robin's attitude. He dropped his eyes swiftly from his brother's face, saying no word. In the silence that followed, his hands began to work, straining ceaselessly against each other. Dick waited for a few seconds. "Going on strike, are you?" he asked then, as Robin did not speak. Robin shook his head dumbly. "What does that mean?" Dick said. Robin was silent. He was nearly dislocating his fingerjoints in his agitation. Richard bent suddenly and laid a quieting hand upon him. "Robin, do you know you've got me into bad trouble?" Robin gave a violent jerk, and in a moment stumbled to his feet. He did not look at his brother, but turned aside in his blundering pathetic fashion, and went to the littered writing-desk.