Step’s quarrel with Tom Orkney seemed to have led to nothing, even in the way of reprisals. There was no second demand upon Master Jones to recover the cap, nor was there formal notice that he should repay the owner for the seized property. In debates at the club the probability of the latter course had been stoutly upheld by Poke Green, who developed such concern in the outcome that he made a searching expedition, from which he bore back tidings that the cap was not to be found where it had fallen. Step insisted this merely went to show that Orkney, when the coast was clear, had returned to the scene and regained possession of the cap, thus avoiding loss and “saving face.” “But he’s wearing another bonnet,” Poke pointed out. “Oh, that’s because he’s too stuffy to admit the truth,” Step declared. “He’s as stubborn as a mule--that’s the whole case in a nutshell.” The club agreed with this opinion of Orkney more heartily than it endorsed Step’s performance, which was held to be juvenile, albeit not without provocation. Sam’s interference was accepted with respect rather than warm approval. As Poke put it, somebody, sooner or later, would have to thrash Orkney; and Step might as well have tried his hand. Whereat the Shark spoke up from his corner. “Say, that’s nice doctrine to be preaching at the Safety First Club!” For an instant Poke was abashed. “Why--why, there’s something in that. I guess I wasn’t thinking of our new name.” “Well, Sam was,” said the Shark crisply. “Huh!” grunted Poke. He glanced thoughtfully at Sam; seemed to be about to continue; changed his mind, and let the subject drop. Sam went home that afternoon to find Lon in uncommonly bad humor. Somebody, it appeared, had opened a faucet in the barn, and left the water running in a merry stream. As a result, half the floor had been flooded, and annoying, if not heavy, damage had been caused. Lacking evidence to the contrary, Lon was disposed to hold Sam responsible. “But I had nothing to do with it,” the boy explained. “I don’t know how it happened.” “Foolin’ ’round here, wasn’t you, after school?” “Yes--but I didn’t touch the faucet.” “Guess you’re gettin’ absent-minded.” Sam reddened wrathfully, but kept his head. Very clearly he realized that he had a deal at stake. A youth on probation, as he was, must shun rages as well as keep his record clean. “Look here, Lon!” he said. “I’m not joking--I’m in earnest. And I tell you I’m not to blame. I mean it--honor bright!” Lon rubbed his chin. “I swan, but it plumb beats my time! You’re sure you didn’t do it, and I’ll swear I ain’t been walkin’ in my sleep and cuttin’ up didoes for more’n a year. Yet here was the water goin’ like all possessed! Now, who set it goin’?” “I didn’t,” said Sam decidedly.