Rose hadn't, as yet, looked round at her champion. But she now became
aware that inside a shaggy gray sleeve which hung beside her, there was
a sudden tension of big muscles; the gloved hand that had helped gather
up her note-books, clenched itself into a formidable fist. The thought
of the sort of thud that fist might make against the over-active jaw of
the conductor was pleasant. Still, the thing mustn't be allowed to
happen.

She spoke quickly and decisively. "I won't pay another fare, but of
course you may put me off the car."

"All right," said the conductor.

The girl smiled over the very gingerly way in which he reached out for
her elbow to guide her around the rail and toward the step. Technically,
the action constituted putting her off the car. She heard the crisp
voice once more, this time repeating a number, "twenty-two-naught-five,"
or something like that, just as she splashed down into the two-inch lake
that covered the hollow in the pavement. The bell rang twice, the car
started with a jerk, there was another splash, and a big gray-clad
figure alighted in the lake beside her.

"I've got his number," the crisp voice said triumphantly.

"But," gasped the girl, "but what in the world did you get off the car
for?"

It wasn't raining. It was doing an imitation of Niagara Falls, and the
roar of it almost drowned their voices.