Downcast, motionless, the boy stood fighting out his brief mental battle. He was unaware of the curious glances and low-voiced comment of Ferris and Ritter, sitting together a little to one side. For a space he did not even notice the three fellows in the water save to be conscious of their splashings and sputterings and occasional peals of laughter—laughter which grated somehow, and made him feel like one apart. Then Cavanaugh’s voice, still sharp and a little pettish, brought his head up and his troubled gaze sought out the fellow who had been his friend.