“You had no other reason?” asked the teacher, searchingly.

“No, sir.  What other reason could I have?” said Tom, but his manner betrayed confusion.

“Indeed, I don’t know,” returned the teacher, quietly.  “Your action, however, spoiled Luke’s chances and insured the success of Randolph.”

“And got me a broken head,” muttered Tom, placing his hand upon the swelling at the back of his head.

“Yes, you got the worst of it.  I advise you to go home and apply cold water or any other remedy your mother may suggest.”

Randolph had already turned away, meaning to return home.  Tom joined him.  Randolph would gladly have dispensed with his company, but had no decent excuse, as Tom’s home lay in the same direction as his.

“Well, Randolph, you’ve won the watch,” said Tom, when they were out of hearing of the other boys.

“Yes,” answered Randolph, indifferently.  “I don’t care so much for that as for the ten dollars my father is going to give me.”

“That’s what I thought.  You’ve got another watch, you know—­more valuable.”

“Well, what of it?” said Randolph, suspiciously.

“I think you might give me the Waterbury.  I haven’t got any.”

“Why should I give it to you?” answered Randolph, coldly.

“Because but for me you wouldn’t have won it, nor the ten dollars, neither.”

“How do you make that out?”

“The teacher said so himself.”

“I don’t agree to it.”

“You can’t deny it.  Luke was seven or eight rods ahead when I got in his way.”

“Then it was lucky for me.”

“It isn’t lucky for me.  My head hurts awfully.”

“I’m very sorry, of course.”

“That won’t do me any good.  Come, Randolph, give me the watch, like a good fellow.”

“Well, you’ve got cheek, I must say.  I want the watch myself.”

“And is that all the satisfaction I am to get for my broken head?” exclaimed Tom, indignantly.

Randolph was a thoroughly mean boy, who, if he had had a dozen watches, would have wished to keep them all for himself.

“I’ve a great mind to tell Luke and the teacher of the arrangement between us.”

“There wasn’t any arrangement,” said Randolph, sharply.  “However, as I’m really sorry for you, I am willing to give you a quarter.  There, now, don’t let me hear any more about the matter.”

He drew a silver quarter from his vest pocket and tendered it to Tom.

Tom Harper was not a sensitive boy, but his face flushed with indignation and shame, and he made no offer to take the money.

“Keep your quarter, Randolph Duncan,” he said scornfully.  “I think you’re the meanest specimen of a boy that I ever came across.  Any boy is a fool to be your friend.  I don’t care to keep company with you any longer.”

“This to me!” exclaimed Randolph, angrily.  “This is the pay I get for condescending to let you go with me.”