against you. They'll go through here like a twelve-inch shot."

"You alle same tell cop?" grinned Chow, green hatred showing through his
skin. "Then I tell evelybody about you fliend in there."

"Do just as you please about that," retorted Dave with pretended
carelessness. "For one thing, you don't know his name."

"Oh, yes, I do," swaggered Chow impudently. "Know heap 'bout him. His
name alle same Pen'ton."

Seizing a marking brush and a piece of paper, Chow Hop quickly wrote out
Pennington's name, correctly spelled. His ability to write English with
a good hand was one of Chow's great vanities, anyway.

"You go back to your ironing board, yellow-face," warned Darrin, and
something in the young third classman's face showed Chow that it would
be wise to obey.

Then Hallam drew Darrin to one side, to whisper earnestly in his ear:

"Look out, old man, or you will get Pen into an awful scrape!"

"I shan't do it," maintained Darrin. "If it happens it will have been
Pen's own work."

"You'd better let the chink go, just to save one of our class."

"Is a fellow who has turned opium fiend worth saving to the class!"
demanded Dave, looking straight into Hallam's eyes.