“Yes; for the bully happens to be my friend, and I stand by my friends, right or wrong. Accordingly, I propose to leave you here, tied hand and foot, for a few hours, or until you succeed in getting loose. It will be soothing to the feelings of my friend Philip, and will give you time to reflect upon your mistake in attacking the son of a rich man.” “But,” urged Harry, “I might have to stay here all night!” “Quite possible! Fortunately, however, there are no wild beasts prowling about in this forest, and you won’t incur any danger.” “But my mother will be worried about me.” “I am sorry for that, but it won’t be for long.” Harry started to run, feeling that he must avoid the fate that threatened him, if possible; but Congreve overtook him almost instantly, and, passing his lithe, strong arms around him, pinioned him so firmly that he could not escape. He was several inches taller than our hero, and, naturally, much stronger. “Now, Philip,” he said. Philip advanced to tie Harry, but the latter, feeling that resistance was useless, turning to Congreve, said: “If I must be tied, you may do it. I won’t resist.” “Come, that’s sensible,” said Congreve, and proceeded to tie Harry hand and foot, as he had proposed. When the task was completed he took him up and set him down in such a way that he could lean his back against a tree. “That will do,” he said. “If you don’t get free before, I will come to-morrow morning and release you.” “I would like to give him a licking now!” growled Philip, “That would be cowardly,” said Congreve. “Come away and leave him.” Rather reluctantly, for he wanted to stay and triumph over his helpless rival, Philip followed his companion out of the wood. CHAPTER XV — PHILIP’S BAD ADVISER Philip was elated by his triumph over Harry. Being cowardly by nature, he felt that it would be a terrible thing to stay in the lonely wood all night, and he naturally thought that Harry would look upon it in the same light. He felt that it would pay off all old scores, and leave the advantage with him. But there was a drop of bitterness mingled with his exultation. James Congreve had called him a bully to his face, and in the presence of Harry, and this seemed to him a personal insult. He was not willing to let it pass, and was resolved to give Congreve to understand that the offense must not be repeated. “Well, Philip,” said Congreve, “our plan has succeeded.” “Yes,” answered Philip, shortly. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you satisfied yet?” “Yes, as far as that goes; but I don’t like the way you spoke to me.” “Go ahead! Let me know what it is you complain of.” “You called me a bully!” “You are one, you know,” said Congreve, frankly. “No, I don’t know it; and, what is more, I don’t like to have any one speak of me in that way!” returned Philip, irritably. “Very likely not. People don’t generally like to have their faults alluded to.” “I tell you I am not a bully!”