“Bah! I can stave in two or three heads before any number of you could
stop me,” sneered the fellow, in an ugly voice.

“You could, but you won’t dare.”

“I won’t?”

“Not you!”

At that instant rapid steps were heard. Hal Hastings returned with three
of the midshipmen, behind them Williamson trying to crowd his way into the
scene.

“Just tell us what you want, Mr. Benson,” proposed Cadet Merriam, amiably.

“This fellow has been ’doping’ our engines,” announced Captain Jack. “And
now he’s threatening to stand us off. We’ll close in on him from both
sides. If he tries to use that steel bar on any of us—”

“If he does, he’ll curse his unlucky star,” declared Midshipman Merriam.
“Come on, gentlemen. We’ll show him some of the Navy football tactics!”

The three midshipmen approached Truax steadily from the right. Jack, Hal
and Williamson stepped in on the left.

With a yell like that of a maniac Sam Truax swung the bar.

Having to watch both sides at once, however, he made a fizzle of it. The
bar came down, but struck the floor.