The High School Freshmen Part 13

"Dr. Thornton, will you search me---_now_?" insisted the young freshman.

"But I don't want to, Prescott," appealed the princ.i.p.al. "I haven't the remotest suspicion of you, anyway, my dear boy."

"I ask the search, sir, just as a matter of justice," d.i.c.k insisted.

"If it were not too strong a word, then I would say that I _demand_ to be searched here and now."

Suiting the action to the word, d.i.c.k Prescott, standing proudly erect, raised both arms over his head.

"Now, please, doctor, just as a matter of simple justice," begged the young freshman.

"Oh, very well, then, Mr. Prescott," sighed the princ.i.p.al. "But I never had a more distasteful task."

Into one of the side pockets Dr. Thornton projected a shaking hand. He drew out only some sc.r.a.ps of paper, which he promptly thrust back. Then he inserted a hand in the jacket pocket on the other side.

"Ouch!" suddenly exclaimed the princ.i.p.al, in very real pain.

He drew the hand out, quickly. A drop of blood oozed up at the tip of his forefinger.

"Mr. Prescott," demanded Dr. Thornton, "what is that pointed object in your pocket?"

"_What_?" demanded Fred Ripley, tensely.

d.i.c.k himself thrust a hand into that pocket, and drew forth---Fred Ripley's missing pin.

"What---why---who-----" gasped the freshman, suffocatingly.

"Oh, yes, of course," jeered Fred Ripley. "Astonished, aren't you---you mucker?"

The last two words Ripley uttered in so low a tone that the princ.i.p.al, gazing in horrified fascination at the pin that he now held in his own hands, did not hear.

"You coward!" cried d.i.c.k, hotly, and clenched his fist, intent on driving it against the soph.o.m.ore's face.

But Dr. Thornton knew enough about High School boys' fights, to galvanize himself into action. Like a flash he bounded between the two boys.

"Here, here, Prescott, none of that!" he admonished.

"I---I beg _your_ pardon, sir," gasped d.i.c.k, in a tone which made it very plain that he did not include his enemy in that apology.

"May I trouble you for my pin, sir, now that it has been recovered?"

asked Fred, coolly.

"Why---um!---that depends," replied Dr. Thornton, slowly, speaking with a painful effort. "If you, or your father, have or would have any idea of a criminal prosecution, Ripley, then it would be improper to return your pin. It would have to be turned over to the police as an exhibit in evidence. _But_ do you intend anything of that sort, Mr. Ripley?"

"Why, that's as _you_ say, doctor," replied the soph.o.m.ore, quickly.

"It's a matter of school discipline, and belongs to your province.

Personally, I know that I would rather not have this matter go any further."

"I---I don't know what to do," confessed Dr. Thornton, in anxious perplexity. "In any event, before doing anything, I think I had better consult the superintendent and the Board of Education.

Mr. Prescott, I will say, freely, that I am most loath to believe anything of this sort against you can be possible. There must be---must be---some---er explanation. I---I---don't want you to feel that I believe your guilt as yet a.s.sured. I---I-----"

Here Dr. Thornton broke down, dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief. Almost unconsciously he pa.s.sed the pin, which he was yet holding, to Fred Ripley.

"Lock the locker door, Mr. Prescott---and give me the key,"

requested the princ.i.p.al.

d.i.c.k pa.s.sed over the key, then spoke, with more composure than might have been expected under the circ.u.mstances:

"Dr. Thornton, I am as innocent of any thieving as you yourself can be. Sooner or later the right of this will come out. Then you will realize that I didn't steal anything. I'll prove myself innocent yet, sir."

"I hope so, my boy, I---I---hope so," replied the princ.i.p.al.

As they ascended, Fred Ripley stepped aside to let the other two go first. He was afraid to have d.i.c.k Prescott behind him just then.

No sooner had the trio entered the general a.s.sembly room than it quickly dawned on all the students of both s.e.xes that something was unusually wrong.

d.i.c.k's face was red as fire. Had he been guilty of the thefts, he might have been cooler about it all. Conscious innocence often puts on the appearance of guilt.

Somehow, d.i.c.k got to his seat. He picked up a book, mechanically, and pretended to be deeply absorbed in study.

"What's up?" whispered the fellow seated behind Fred.

Ripley turned enough to raise his eyebrows significantly and let his questioner see him do it. Instantly all seated near the lawyer's son became intensely curious.

Wondering glances strayed from over book-tops, even from the far corners of the big a.s.sembly room.

Then the curious glanced at Dr. Thornton so often that the much disturbed princ.i.p.al soon called another teacher to the desk and left the room.

At recess, Purcell, of the soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s, was found in charge at the door of d.i.c.k's old locker room. Ripley held his tongue until he was out in the school yard. Then he broke loose before those who would listen to him---and the number was large.

d.i.c.k & Co. had gathered by themselves in another corner of the yard. Here, however, they were soon joined by a small mob of the fellows, especially of the freshman cla.s.s. d.i.c.k had his say.

He didn't want to say much, but he related, in a straightforward way, what had happened.

"It's one of Fred Ripley's mean tricks," declared one of the freshmen.

"Fred Ripley can't fool anyone. He put that pin in d.i.c.k's pocket himself."

"But two thefts---two things were missed last week, when Ripley wasn't at school at all," spoke one boy, in an undertone.

"Yes; that's the queer part of it," agreed another boy. "Ripley couldn't have had anything to do with those other cases."

This latter was the view that was occurring to Mr. Thornton, as he sat in the princ.i.p.al's room, poring and pondering over the whole distressing matter.

Thompson and the other football leaders came trooping over to d.i.c.k & Co. as soon as they heard the noise. Prescott was a hero with the football crowd. There was no use in telling them anything against their little fres.h.i.+e hero.

"Prescott, it would look foolish to talk much," declared Thompson, in a voice that was husky from real emotion. "Just give me your hand, old man!"

d.i.c.k took the proffered hand, pressing it hard and gratefully.

Then the rest of the football squad pressed forward, each insisting on a hearty handshake.