“You will never make the investment, as long as Jacob Farnum has the deciding word,” insisted Mr. Demarest.

“I’m sure of that, too,” added Mr. Faulkner.

“And all on account of those rascally boys!” uttered Don Melville, in a tone of disgust.  “Isn’t it funny how some folks will cling to muckers?  Why, anyone would think that the fellow Benson and his chums are so necessary that the business couldn’t go on without them.  They’re the—­”

“Hush!” murmured the lawyer.  “Here come the boys.”

Jack and his mates were at this moment coming out of the yard.  They had turned on the sidewalk, and started along ere they caught sight of the group ahead.

“There’s that infernal gang!” uttered Eph, wrathfully.

“Keep your eyes away from them, and don’t say anything, then,” whispered Jack.  “Don’t say or do anything that can possibly spoil the morning by putting us in the wrong.”

But Don Melville, wrathful over the morning’s happenings, and keenly disappointed over the knowledge that he could not hope to command the “Pollard,” was not disposed to let the submarine boys go unchallenged.

On came Jack, Hal and Eph, walking abreast, yet ready to break and pass in silence.

“Dewey, Sampson & Schley!” jeered Don Melville, in a low tone, yet loud enough to be heard by Jack’s party.

Yet the boys paid no heed, but would have passed in silence, had not Don added, insultingly: 

“The three little muckers!”

That was too much for Eph.  He couldn’t help turning, the flush mounting to his cheeks, to retort: 

“Speak for yourself!”

Don took a step forward.  Eph, unable to ignore the implied challenge, wheeled about.

“Don’t bother with the fellow, Eph,” muttered Jack, gripping his bellicose chum by the arm.

“’Fellow’?” cried Don, hotly.  “Do you mean that for me?”

“Well,” demanded Jack, dryly, “you’re not a girl, are you?”

At that Don Melville lost his temper hopelessly.  Burning at a white heat, he hissed: 

“I’ll show you whether I am, or not, you cur!”

That word “cur” went far toward shattering Jack Benson’s good resolutions.  Letting go of Eph’s arm he turned to glare at his tormentor.

“You need a lesson, mucker,” added Don, hotly.

“Don’t soil your hands on the fellow, Don,” cried his father, sharply.

“I must, sir, after he has insulted me,” cried Don, in a rage.  “I must kick him, anyway.”

“Nonsense, Don!  No brawling with people of this class,” commanded his father, sternly.

The elder Melville reached out to restrain his son, but that seemed only to render the young man more furious.  He rushed at Jack, aiming a kick.

“Don’t you dare try that!” warned young Benson, his eyes flashing.

But Don, despite both warnings, did swing his foot.  Jack dodged the impact, then darted in at the side, landing a blow on young Melville’s chest that sent him staggering back.