Everybody knew that Leo Hallisey hated Jack Casey. They had been glaring at each other for days. There was going to be a fight. And when, in Prof. Carl C. Wheaton's junior law class, Hallisey got up to open a window, Casey told him not to. With eyes no bigger than squirt-holes in the snow, Hallisey edged up to Casey, dragging one foot behind the other. "Lead at me," he said, "Lead—you funny fellow." He was uttering words never before heard in the law class of Prof. Carl C. Wheaton. Casey led. His...
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