Just as this moment he espied the two girls, though he did not see Dick or Dave.  Belle happened to turn as Ripley came near her.

“Hullo, Meade!” he called, patronizingly.

It is a trick with some High School boys thus to address a girl student by her last name only, but it is not the act of a gentleman.  Belle resented it by stiffening at once, and glancing coldly at Ripley without greeting him.

In another instant Dave Darrin, at a bound, stood before the astonished Fred. Dave’s eyes were flashing in a way they were wont to do when he was thoroughly angry.

“Ripley—–­you cur!  To address a young woman in that familiar fashion!” glared Dave.

“What have you to say about it?” demanded Fred, insolently.

“This!” was Dave Darrin’s only answer in words.

Smack!  His fist landed on one side of Fred’s face.  The latter staggered, then slipped to the ground.

“There’s the car, Dick,” uttered Dave, in a low tone.  “Put the girls aboard.”

Half a dozen passers-by had already turned and were coming back to learn the meaning of this encounter.  Dick understood how awkward the situation would be for the girls, so he glided forward, hailed the car, and led Laura and Belle out to it.

“But I’d rather stay,” whispered Belle, in protest.  “I want to make sure that Dave doesn’t get into any trouble.”

“He won’t,” Dick promised.  “It’ll save him annoyance if he knows you girls are not being stared at by curious rowdies.”

Dick quickly helped the girls aboard the car, then nodded to the conductor to ring the bell.  A second later Dick was bounding back to his chum’s side.

Fred Ripley was on his feet, scowling at Dave Darrin.  The latter, though his fists were not up, was plainly in an attitude where he could quickly defend himself.

“That was an unprovoked assault, you rowdy!” Fred exclaimed wrathfully.

“I’d trust to any committee of gentlemen to exonerate me,” Dave answered coolly.  “You acted the rowdy, Ripley, and you’d show more sense if you admitted it and reformed.”

“What did he do?” demanded one of the curious ones in the crowd.

“He addressed a young lady with offensive familiarity,” Dave replied hotly.

“What did you do?” demanded another in the crowd.

“I knocked him down,” Dave admitted coolly.

“Well, that’s about the proper thing to do,” declared another bystander.  “The Ripley kid has no kick coming to him.  Move on, young feller!”

Fred started, glaring angrily at the speaker.  But half a dozen pressed forward about him.  Ripley’s face went white with rage when he found himself being edged off the sidewalk into the gutter.

“Get back, there, you, and leave me alone!” he ordered, hoarsely.

A laugh from the crowd was the first answer.  Then some one gave the junior a shove that sent him spinning out into the street.