But the fifth were not to be diverted. They had no need of Cable’s learning to explain Wilmot’s comparison. Having fought their way, line by line, through sundry tales of Greek heroes presented in simple Latin, they knew the stories from end to end. “Jason Dunn!” they whispered ecstatically to one another along the table. The names fitted as if made to go together. No combination could be better! “We’ll call him Jason after this,” proposed Dickie Sumner, Jack’s younger brother. “Nobody can help saying it after he’s heard it once.” This suggestion was put into practice as soon as the youngsters left the table. They gathered at the door and sang out in chorus three times before they scattered: “Jason Dunn! Jason Dunn! What has Jason done?” “Fresh little mutts!” exclaimed Tracy, in disgust. “That’s the result of being tied up with a kindergarten. Let’s go out and wring their necks!” “Don’t notice ’em,” said Wilmot. “They’ll forget it to-morrow if you let ’em alone.” But the title stuck. Before a week was out, the name, Archie Dunn, or Baldie Dunn, ceased to be heard on a boy’s lips. It had become Jason Dunn. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER VII SUMNER CHOOSES A SUCCESSOR THE first skirmish in the feud that was bound to arise came on the following day at Adams’s, when a group of fifth and sixth lads, thinking themselves safe in the shadow of the dormitory, sang out the new nickname derisively across the field to Dunn. Dunn, who was still in a state of irritation, and by no means ready, as yet, to accept the inevitable nickname, made a dash for the group, which broke into screaming flight round the corner of the locker house. The first lad whom Jason met as he rounded the corner in full pursuit, was Mike, engaged in tossing a football against the side of the building. Without stopping to raise the question whether Mike had been one of the offenders, Dunn proceeded to the agreeable task of teaching the urchin a lesson. The boy resisted with hands, feet, voice, and teeth. The older fellows, hurrying forth at the shrill cries for help, found Mike lying on his back, like the arms of a hay tedder, squirming to keep his antagonist at bay and squawking like a hen in distress. [Illustration: HIS FEET GOING LIKE THE ARMS OF A HAY TEDDER.] The majority of the newcomers lined up in good positions, to enjoy the amusement which chance had thrown in their way; but Talbot, who had seen the beginning of the incident from a distance, pushed through the line, jerked the boy to his feet, and commanded him to stop his noise. “He knocked me down when I wasn’t doing a thing!” screamed Mike, weeping more from rage than because of any hurt which he had received. “Let me get a stone, and I’ll kill him!”