"I sure will," broke in Dan, dropping his book, rising and snatching
at his cap. "I'll be back as soon as I've heard something, or have
settled with the fellow who says it."

Dan was out of the room like a flash.

Dave sat down heavily in his chair, his brow wrinkling as he tried
to imagine what it all meant.

"It must all be a mistake that Trotter has made," argued Dave
with himself. "Of course, Trotter might be stringing me, but
I don't believe he would do that. Now, to be sure, I came near
to having words with Farley last night, but that wouldn't be the
basis for any action by the fourth class. That, if anything,
would be wholly a personal matter. Then what am I accused of
doing? It must be some fierce sort of lie when the fellows talk
of taking it up as a class matter."

For ten minutes more Dave puzzled and pondered over the problem.
Then the door flew open and Dan bolted hastily in.

"You haven't been hitting anyone have you? asked Dave, noticing
the flushed, angry face of his chum.

"No! But one of us will have to do some hitting soon," burst hotly
from Dalzell.

"It'll be my hit, then, I guess," smiled Dave wearily. "Have
you found out--"