Sam laughed, but quickly grew serious. Both Step and Tom were talking loudly, each hurling threats and defiance at the other; Step’s long arms were going like a windmill’s, while Orkney’s fists were doubled. From his acquaintance with the methods of adolescent controversy it appeared to be probable that words were about to lead to blows. “Just one of Orkney’s grouches,” the Shark went on indifferently. “He’s been ruffling his feathers at Step ever since that business in Greek the other day.” Sam nodded. “That, eh? But they’re going too far--they’ll be mixing it up.” “Well, Step’s got the reach by fully four inches.” “Maybe, but Orkney’s a tough customer.” The Shark turned, and deliberately inspected Sam from head to foot. “You could do him up,” he said with cold-blooded calmness. “Perhaps. That isn’t saying Step could, though. He hasn’t weight enough.” At this instant Orkney, catching sight of Sam in the background, changed his tactics. He moved away from Step, and lowered his hands. “So that’s the game, is it?” he taunted. “Keep blustering, but be sure not to hit a fellow till your gang’s here to back you--that’s your way, Step Jones. Had to wait for Sam Parker, didn’t you?” Step’s anger was that of the patient man, slow to kindle but hard to extinguish. He struck at his opponent, but long as his arm was, missed him by inches. Sam instinctively started forward, and forced a way through the ring. Tom fell back a pace. “That’s right! Pile on--the whole gang of you!” he shouted. Step, for his part, was more than ready to accept the challenge; but Sam intervened. Impulse--he was willing enough to fight Orkney--had yielded to sobering second thought. It behooved a young man, intent upon establishing his self-control and common sense, to avoid brawling over a trifle on the public street. Sam’s hand caught Step’s collar. “Here! Drop the fighting!” he commanded. Step wriggled, but the grip on his collar did not yield. “Oh, let me at him!” he begged. “We might as well have it out--he’s been pestering me for a week.” “Never mind! He’ll stop it now.” “Oh, I will, will I?” snarled Orkney. “I’d like to know who’s going to make me!” “I might,” said Sam simply. “Bah! Dare you to try--alone!” “That’s the way I will try it--some day,” Sam told him. “But not now; no, not now.” “That’s right--safety first!” sneered the other. Sam grinned; and it was an odd grin. “Certainly; safety first!” said he. Step ceased to struggle; but, twisting his neck, stared at his friend. And then the Shark chose to advance. “Sam’s right,” he announced coolly. “This is no place for a scrap. Besides, there’s no reason for one. Orkney, you’re a chump to be peeved at Step for doing you up in Greek, or at me for putting you out at geometry. See here! You’re a pretty good, all-round performer, but you can’t beat specialists at their own specialties. Get that? And there’s no use in being a general sorehead.”