“All right, Jim,” said Bates, obediently.

So he went on his errand, and we know what success he met with.

CHAPTER XII.

The impending conflict.

Jim Smith stood leaning indolently against a post, when his emissary, Bates, returned from his errand.  He was experiencing “that stern joy” which bullies feel just before an encounter with a foeman inferior in strength, whom they expect easily to master.  Several of the boys were near by—­sycophantic followers of Jim, who were enjoying in advance the rumpus they expected.  I am afraid schoolboys do not always sympathize with the weaker side.  In the present instance, there was hardly a boy who had not at some time or other felt the weight of Jim’s fist, and, as there is an old saying that “misery loves company,” it was not, perhaps, a matter of wonder that they looked forward with interest to seeing another suffer the same ill-treatment which they had on former occasions received!

Presently Bates came back.

Jim looked over his head for the boy whom he expected to see in his company.

“Where’s the new boy?” he demanded, with a frown.

“He won’t come.”

“Won’t come?” repeated Jim, with an ominous frown.  “Did you tell him I wanted him?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And what did he say?”

“That if you wanted to see him, you could come to him.”

All the boys regarded each other with looks of surprise.  Was it possible that any boy in Smith Institute could have the boldness to send such a message to Jim!  Most of all, Jim was moved by such a bold defiance of his authority.  For the moment, he could not think of any adequate terms in which to express his feelings.

“Did the new boy say that?” he asked, hoarsely.

“Yes, he did.”

Jim nodded his head vigorously two or three times.

“You fellows,” he said, appealing to the boys around him, “did you ever hear such impudence?”

“No!” “Never!” exclaimed the boys in concert, Bates being the loudest and most emphatic.

“I have never been so insulted since I was at the institute,” said Jim, again looking about him for a confirmation of his statement.

“It’s because he’s a new boy.  He don’t understand,” suggested one.

“That’s no excuse,” said Jim, sternly.  “He needn’t think I’ll let him off on that account.”

“Of course not,” answered Bates.

“What would you advise me to do, boys?” asked Jim, with the air of a monarch asking the opinion of his counselors.

“Thrash him till he can’t stand!” said the subservient Bates.  He was always ready to go farther than anyone else in supporting and defending the authority of the tyrant of the playground.

“Bates, you are right.  I shall follow your advice,” said Jim.  “Where is the young reprobate?”