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picked himself up and gazed at the ice-boat. It was the _Snowbird_, and on it were Nat Poole and Link Merwell.

      "Hullo, if it isn't Dave Porter!" muttered Poole, in amazement.

      "Where did he get that mule?" questioned Merwell.

      "I'm sure I don't know. But this makes a mess of things. I didn't want that crowd to know we had taken the ice-boat," went on the dudish youth.

      Dave picked up the cap which had fallen on the ice and ran up to the ice-boat. Those on board had run into the creek by mistake and were trying to turn the _Snowbird_ around.

      "What are you doing with that craft?" asked Dave.

      "That's our business," retorted Nat Poole.

      "I think it is my business. That boat belongs to Messmer and Henshaw."

      "We found it, and we are going to have a sail back to Oak Hall," said Link Merwell.

      "I don't think so," answered Dave, decidedly.

      "What's that?" cried Merwell, sharply. He was a fellow used to having his own way.

      "I want that boat. I was with Messmer and Henshaw, and we left the craft on the shore of an island. It's my opinion you two chaps ran off with her."

      "See here, do you take me for a thief?" cried Link Merwell. And in his aggressive fashion he swaggered up to Dave.

      "Not that, Merwell, but I think you took the ice-boat. I am going to take her back, so I can get our crowd aboard."

      "And what do you expect me to do?" asked Nat Poole.

      "You can skate back to the Hall."

      "I lost one of my skates."

      "Then let Merwell tow you on one foot."

      "Oh, you needn't boss us around, Porter," growled Link Merwell. "I'm not used to it, and I won't stand for it. Poole and I are going to the Hall on the ice-boat, and that is all there is about it."

      He drew himself up to his full height--he was four inches taller than Dave--and glared down defiantly. This gave Nat Poole a little courage, and he ranged beside Merwell, and both doubled up their fists.

      They fancied they could make Dave back down, but they were mistaken. The lad who had been brought up on a farm faced them fearlessly.

      "There is no use of fighting about it," he said, as calmly as he could. "You have no right to this ice-boat, and you know it. If you don't give it up perhaps I'll report you."

      "Oh, you're a squealer, are you?" sneered Link Merwell. "It's about what I would expect from a boy brought up in a poorhouse."

      At this uncalled-for and cutting remark Dave's face flamed. He took one step forward and caught the tall youth by the arm, in a grip that seemed to be of steel and made Merwell wince.

      "Are you going to bring that up?" he asked, in a low voice. "I should have thought your friend Poole would have cautioned you that it wasn't healthy to do so."

      "Let go of my arm, Porter," and Merwell tried to pull himself free, but in vain. Dave's eyes were blazing like two stars and seemed to look the tall youth through and through.

      "I am not letting go just yet, Merwell. I want you to answer my question."

      "If you don't let go I'll knock you down!" cried Link Merwell, in a rage.

      "If you do, you'll get well punished for it. I allow nobody to talk to me as you have done."

      "Want to fight?"

      "No; but I can defend myself--I guess Nat Poole knows that."

      "Don't soil your hands on him, Link," said Poole. Even though they were two to one, he knew Dave's power and was afraid of him.

      "He can't come it over me," answered Merwell. "Let go!" and then he hauled off and tried to hit Dave in the face.

      The boy from the country was on guard, and ducked with a quickness that surprised his antagonist. Then he gave Merwell's arm a twist that sent the tall youth sprawling on the ice.

      The new pupil was amazed, and it took him several seconds to recover himself. He had not dreamed that Dave was so powerful, yet he threw prudence to the winds and rushed in, trying again to reach Dave's face with his fist. But Dave skipped to one side, put out his foot, and again Merwell went down, on his hands and knees.

      "I'll fix you!" he roared, scrambling up, his face red with rage. "I'll show you what I can do! How do you like that, you poorhouse rat!"

      This time he hit Dave in the breast. The blow was a heavy one, but it did not hurt nearly as much as did the words which accompanied it. They made Dave shiver as if with ague, and, all in a blaze he could not curb, he sprang towards Link Merwell. Out shot first one fist and then the other, the blows landing on the eye and chin of the tall youth. They made him stagger back against the ice-boat. Then came a third blow, and Merwell gave a gasp, swayed from side to side, and would have fallen had not Nat Poole caught him as he was going down.

      "Stop, Porter; don't hit him again!"

      "Merwell, do you take back what you just said?" demanded Dave, paying no attention to Nat Poole's remark.

      There was an instant of silence. Link Merwell wanted to answer, but was too dazed to do so. Slowly and painfully he stood erect. His head was in a whirl and one eye was rather rapidly closing.

      "Merwell, are you going to take back what you said?" demanded Dave, again. And he held his fist ready to strike another blow.

      "Ye--yes," stuttered Link Merwell. "Do--don't hit me again!" And then he collapsed in a heap at Dave's feet.

      CHAPTER XII

      THE MEETING OF THE GEE EYES

      When Link Merwell went down again Dave looked at Nat Poole, thinking that lad might possibly attack him. But the dudish fellow was too scared to do anything but back away to a safe distance.

      "Don--don't you dare to hit me, Porter!" he cried, in a trembling voice. "Don't you dare! If you do I'll tell Doctor Clay!"

      "If you behave yourself I'll not lay my fingers on you, Nat Poole," was the reply. "Merwell brought this on himself--you know that as well as I do."

      "He's pretty badly hurt, I fear."

      "Oh, he'll come around all right," answered Dave. "You had better see to it that he gets to the Hall safely."

      "Are you going to leave me?"

      "Yes, I want to find Henshaw and the others."

      Nat Poole wanted to argue, but he did not dare. Dave waited until Link Merwell sat up and opened his eyes. Then he leaped on the ice-boat and flung off the three skates he found there.

      "Going away?" mumbled Merwell, when he could speak.

      "Yes, and after this, Link Merwell, see that you keep a civil tongue in your head," answered Dave, and then he trimmed the sail of the ice-boat, shoved the craft around, and started for the river.

      Dave was a good deal "worked up," but he had not deemed it wise to let his enemies see it. To be called a "poorhouse rat" had stung him to the quick, and once again when touched on that subject he had found his temper as ungovernable as ever.

      "It's no use, I can't stand it," he told himself. "If they want me to let them alone they have got to cut that out."

      It was now so dark that but little could be seen on the broad river. Dave turned the craft towards Robber Island and made a long tack. He was just coming around on the other tack when there came a shout out of

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