Rob restrained his anger with an effort, and by the time they
emerged from the post office the trio of worthies--who, as Rob
had rightly guessed, had been discussing them--had moved on up
the street.

"I had trouble with those kids myself this afternoon," remarked
Jack Curtiss with a scowl, as they wended their way toward a shed
in the rear of Bill Bender's home, which had been fitted tip as a
sort of clubroom.

"What did they do to you?" incautiously inquired Sam Redding, a
youth as big as the other two, but not so powerful. In fact he
was used more or less as a tool by them.

"Do to me," roared the bully, "what did I do to them, you mean."

"Well what did you do to them then?" asked Bill Bender, as they
entered the clubroom before referred to and he produced some
cigarettes, which all three had been strictly forbidden to smoke.

"Chased them off my land," rejoined the other, lighting a paper
roll and blowing out a cloud of smoke, "you should have seen them
run. If they want to play their fool games they've got to do it
on the property of folks who'll let them. They can't come on my
land."

"You mean your father's, don't you?" put in the unlucky Sam
Redding.