conscious victor, finding it comparatively easy now to hit hard--and
often. Peter, blinded by tears and choking with passion, could not see,
but struck aimlessly, till one resounding smack upon his already injured
nose brought the eagerly looked for crimson blood from it, and that of
course, in schoolboy etiquette, meant the end of the fight. Peter was
now lying upon the ground, his handkerchief at his nose, and roaring
like a bull, not so much because of his injured nose, as because of the
hurt to his pride and vanity.

"Haud back yer held," advised one boy, "an' put something cauld doon
yer back."

Suddenly there was silence, and everyone looked awed and shamefaced as
Mr. Clapper, the headmaster, strode into the midst of them. He had heard
the noise of the fight, and had stolen up unobserved just in time to see
Peter get the knockout blow.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded sternly, his eyes traveling
all over the children, till they rested finally on Robert. No one
answered, and so he proceeded to question Peter, who had struggled to
his feet. Peter, like many other boys in similar circumstances, poured
forth a great indictment of his adversary, and Mr. Clapper then turned
to Robert.

"What have you to say, Sinclair?" he asked. "Speak out, and give me your
side."

But Robert said nothing. His rebellious spirit was roused, and he
resented the tone of the headmaster's voice. Again Mr. Clapper tried,
but Robert remained silent.