more sense if you admitted it and reformed."

"What did he do?" demanded one of the curious ones in the crowd.

"He addressed a young lady with offensive familiarity," Dave replied
hotly.

"What did _you_ do?" demanded another in the crowd.

"I knocked him down," Dave admitted coolly.

"Well, that's about the proper thing to do," declared another
bystander. "The Ripley kid has no kick coming to him. Move on,
young feller!"

Fred started, glaring angrily at the speaker. But half a dozen
pressed forward about him. Ripley's face went white with rage
when he found himself being edged off the sidewalk into the gutter.

"Get back, there, you, and leave me alone!" he ordered, hoarsely.

A laugh from the crowd was the first answer. Then some one gave
the junior a shove that sent him spinning out into the street.

Ripley darted by the crowd now, his caution and his dread of too
much of a scene coming to his aid. Besides, some one had just
called out, banteringly:

"Why not take him to the horse trough?"