In a dazed fashion the bully of Oak Hall looked up. He saw something in Dave's eyes that made him shiver—that look which made the country boy at times truly dangerous.
"Here comes somebody!" cried Macklin, at this juncture, and a second later the door swung open and Job Haskers strode in.
"What is the meaning of this noise up here?" demanded the assistant teacher, sharply. "It sounds as if you were pulling the school building down. Ha! you have been fighting!"
"No—no, we weren't fighting," panted Plum, sitting up on the bed.
"Not fighting?"
"No—no, sir,—we were only having a—er—a little wrestling match."
"That's it," came from Macklin, who was anxious to shield his champion. "It didn't amount to anything."
"Sorry we made so much noise, Mr. Haskers," continued the bully, smoothly. He was fast recovering.
Job Haskers looked at Dave.
"What have you to say, Master Porter?"
"I haven't anything to say, Mr. Haskers."
"Were you simply wrestling with Master Plum?"
Dave was silent.
"Answer me!"
