"Why, that doesn't strike me as fair excuse for a fight," Greg
muttered. "You explained and apologized."
"Mr. Spurlock wouldn't accept any apology."
"Just the same," argued Greg, "I don't believe you have to fight, in
this case. You can refuse, anyway, until the matter has been
examined into by the scrap committee of the yearling class. Now,
in view of the fact that you offered explanation and apology, I
don't believe that the yearling scrap committee can hold you to any
meeting with Mr. Spurlock this time. Let me handle this affair for
you, old ramrod."
"Greg," rejoined Dick, laying an affectionate hand on his
roommate's shoulder, "as long as I'm a new plebe I don't intend to
try to dig out of any fight that an upper class man demands from
me. Perhaps I could get the scrap committee to turn down Mr.
Spurlock's desire--but I don't mean to do anything of the sort. I did
all that I felt I could do consistently to stop the fight. Now it has
got to come off, or else it will be because Mr. Spurlock has
become more reasonable."
"He'll eat you up, that big fellow," mused Greg bitterly.
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