“Parker, I’ve got something to say to you. And I want to say it now. Yesterday you yanked me out of a bad fix. It was a great job you did. I’d like to have you know I appreciate it, even if I don’t seem to be able to say much more than ‘Thank you!’” “Oh, that’s all right!” said Sam, hastily and, it may be, gruffly. “Don’t bother your head about it. Forget it!” “Can’t!” growled Orkney, gruff in his turn. “That brings me to something else I’ve got to say and you’ve got to hear. That other matter--you know?” Sam nodded. The “other matter,” of course, was the engagement to fight. “This--this is harder to--to get right.” Orkney plainly found explanation difficult. “You put something up to me, and I said yes. I meant yes; suited me. But you’ve complicated the situation. When you pulled me out of the pond you tied my hands--don’t you see that?” “I didn’t mean to.” “You did, all the same. I won’t go into details, with all these long-ears rubbering; but you don’t need details, anyway.” The youths referred to as “long-ears” had the grace to retire a pace or two, but their liking for their critic was not heightened. “I get your drift--guess I do,” said Sam. “But here! You’re free to forget yesterday’s business. Wish you would!” “Don’t think I wouldn’t--if I could!” There was an ugly gleam in Orkney’s eyes. “That’s out of the question, though. So my hands are tied, as I tell you.” “They needn’t be.” Orkney shook his head. “It’s all very well for you to take that attitude, but I can’t. I’m in your debt--deep in it. So there are things I can’t do that I’d mighty well like to do.” And again the ugly gleam was in evidence. A wave of the old anger seemed to sweep over Sam. “Go ahead and try ’em, then!” he cried savagely. Two spots of red, of a sudden, burned in Orkney’s cheeks, but he kept his self-control. “There’s no use talking--I can see that,” he said grimly; turned, and marched alone up the steps to the great door. The decisions of youth are decisions of a drumhead court-martial, to be carried out on the spot. The school had but one verdict to give in the case of Thomas Orkney. As he disappeared in the corridor, there was a chorus of hisses and groans. CHAPTER XV THE CLUB ENDORSES ITSELF The promise of the snow flurries had been borne out in full measure, and now the country about Plainville was covered by a thick, white mantle. Real winter had come at last, for after the storm there had been a sharp drop in temperature, forecasting not only a “white Christmas” but also holidays brisk and invigorating. And Friday night had arrived, with its relief from school cares, and the Safety First Club was in full session. All the members were in attendance, and all were discussing the most sensational bit of news the town had enjoyed since the mysterious wounding of Major Bates. Tom Orkney had run away!