“I’ll tell!” he cried.  “I did it.  Durkin hit me.  You were there; you saw him!” He appealed to Clint.  “And—­and I told him I’d get even.  So—­so I did!” He looked defiantly about him.  “I warned him.”

Amy nodded and reached for his coat.  The stranger held it for him and handed him his cap.

“Thank you, sir,” said Amy.  “That’s all, Dreer.  You may go.”

“I—­I’ll get you into trouble for this, Byrd,” called Dreer as he moved away.  “You needn’t think I’m through with you, you big bully!”

Amy made no response.  The stranger was smiling amusedly at the two boys who remained, flicking his cane in and out of the fallen leaves beside the fence.  “Everything quite satisfactory now?” he inquired.

“Yes, sir, thank you,” replied Amy.

“You have a very direct way of getting results,” continued the other.  “Might I inquire your name?”

“Byrd, sir.  And this is Thayer.”

“Delighted to know you both.  Mind if I stroll along with you?  I’m an old boy myself, Byrd.  Used to be here some five years ago.  My name, by the way, is Detweiler.”

“Oh!” said Amy.  “You’re going to help coach, aren’t you, sir?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m here for.  Are you playing?”

“No, but Thayer is.  He’s on the second, that is.  I hope you don’t think we do this sort of thing regularly, Mr. Detweiler.”

“No, I suspected that it was something rather extra,” replied the other drily.  “Think that he will—­What’s his name, by the way?”

“Harmon Dreer.”

“Think he will make trouble for you, Byrd?”

Amy shrugged.  “Not with faculty, I guess.  He wouldn’t dare.  He may try to get back at me some other way, though.  I’m not worrying.  When did you get here, sir?”

“This morning, on the eight-something.  Went to a house in the village that George Robey wrote me about and found a room, and then started out for a stroll and broke in on your innocent amusement.  So far I’ve found the old place quite interesting!” And Mr. Detweiler chuckled.

“Hope you’ll like it well enough to stay a good while, sir,” said Amy.

“Thanks.  Hello!  There’s a new hall since I was here!  What do you call it?”

“The last one on the left, sir?  That’s Billings.  I think it was built about three years ago.”

“Aside from that things look about as they used to,” mused the other.  Then he turned to Clint.  “So you’re playing on the second, Thayer?  How are you getting on?  What do you play?”

“Pretty well, sir.  I play tackle.  I’ve had a bum knee for a week or so, though.”

“How’s the ’varsity shaping?”

“Very well, I’d say.  We expect to lick Claflin again, sir.”

“Do, eh?  That’s good.  Football at Brimfield didn’t amount to a great deal when I was here, but the old school’s turned out some good elevens since then.  Well, I’m glad to have met you chaps.  Some day when you’ve got nothing better to do look me up in the village.  I’m at Storer’s, a little white house opposite the store and post office.  Awfully glad to have you.  And—­er—­by the way, if you need evidence, Byrd, in this little matter, call on me.  Very glad to testify to the best of my knowledge.  Good-bye.”