"You're just the right sort to take to," said Haskett, as he caught Paul by the arm one morning, while both were coming from mess. "You're too much of a real little man to have anything to do with that Russell boy or Si Doring."
"Oh, I like them both very much!" answered Paul, and attempted to pass on. With a frown Haskett caught him by the arm and swung him back.
"See here, I want to talk to you," he cried uglily. "Has Si Doring been telling you any yarns about me?"
"You let go of me," was Paul s only answer. "I don't want anything to do with you."
"Answer my question."
"I haven t got to." And now Paul did his best to get away. He had just twisted himself loose when Jim Haskett struck him a cruel blow on the head.
"You—you brute!" gasped the boy, as the tears came. He was about to try retreating again, when Haskett caught him once more.
"Now answer me, or I'll thrash the life out of you," he hissed into Paul's ear. "And mind you tell the truth."
