“What are you butting in for?” demanded Dreer angrily.  “I’ll cuff the kid if I want to.  You get out of here, Penny.”

“You weren’t cuffing him,” replied Penny hotly.  “You were twisting his arm and making him cry.  Now you let the kid alone, Dreer.  If you want to try that sort of thing you try it on me.”

“All right!” Dreer stepped forward and shot his closed fist into Penny’s face.  The blow missed its full force, since Penny, seeing it coming, dodged so that it caught him on the side of the chin.  But it was enough to send him staggering to the wall.

“You keep out of it, you skinny monkey!” shouted Dreer.  “All you’re good for is to make rotten noises on that beastly fiddle of yours!  Want more, do you?”

Penny evidently did, for he came back with a funny sidelong shuffle, arms extended, and Dreer, perhaps surprised at the other’s pluck, moved cautiously away.

“You’ve had what was coming to you, Durkin,” he growled.  “Now you keep away from me or you’ll get worse.  Keep away, I tell you!”

But Penny Durkin suddenly jumped and landed, beating down the other’s guard.  Dreer staggered back, ducking his head, and Penny shot a long arm around in a swinging blow that caught the other under his ear and Dreer’s knees doubled up under him and he sprawled on the threshold of his room.

“Durkin!” cried Clint.  “Stop it!”

Penny turned and observed Clint quite calmly, although Clint could see that he was trembling in every nerve and muscle.

“I’m not going to touch him again,” replied Penny.

“I should think not!” Clint leaned over the motionless Dreer anxiously.  “Here, take hold of him and get him inside.  You help, too, kid, whatever your name is.  Get him on the bed and shut the door.  That was an awful punch you gave him, Durkin.”

“Yes, he can’t fight,” replied Penny unemotionally, as he helped carry the burden to the bed.  “He’ll be all right in a minute.  I jabbed him under the ear.  It doesn’t hurt you much; just gives you a sort of a headache.  Wet a towel and dab it on his face.”

“What the dickens was it all about, anyway?” asked Clint as he followed instructions.

“Well, he was twisting young Melville’s arm and the kid was yelling and—­”

“You’d have yelled yourself,” muttered the boy, with a sniffle.

“I came out and told him to stop it and he didn’t.  So I pulled the kid away from him and he got mad and punched me in the cheek.  So I went for him.  He’s a mean pup, anyway, Dreer is.”

The subject of the compliment stirred and opened his eyes with a groan.  Then he looked blankly at Clint.  “Hello,” he muttered.  “What’s the—­” At that moment his gaze travelled on to Penny and he scowled.

“All right, Durkin,” he said softly.  “I’ll get even with you, you—­you—­”

“Cut it out,” advised Clint.  “How do you feel?”

“All right.  Tell him to get out of my room.  And that kid, too.”