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“I don’t owe Doolittle a cent,” replied Rodney firmly. “And if he waits for me to pay him he will wait a powerful long time.”

“Oh, you’ll pay all right,” laughed Watson. “You thought you’d played a funny trick, didn’t you? Well, you got stung, kid.”

Rodney shrugged his shoulders. Watson, he decided, was getting tiresome.

“Don’t do that!” exclaimed the other sharply.

“Do what?”

“Don’t shrug your shoulders at me! You pay Doolittle what you owe or I’ll pay you what I owe. Understand?”

“What’s the row, Guy?” asked a quiet voice. Jack Billings suddenly appeared at Watson’s elbow.

“Hello,” grumbled the latter. “It’s none of your affair, Jack. This kid’s been getting fresh, that’s all.”

“Merrill’s in my house,” responded Jack, gravely. “What’s wrong, Merrill?”

“You’d better ask him,” answered Rodney resentfully. “He’s been nagging me for five minutes.”

“Oh, drop it,” advised another youth. “Let up, Guy, and forget it.”

“Don’t you get fresh, too, Billy,” warned Watson, turning to the speaker. Billy laughed.