Part 11

“Why, yes, if the fellows feel that I ought to. There’s no hurry, is there? Besides, what’s it to you? You haven’t any of them.”

“Haven’t I? I’ve got ten boxes of them and I want two dollars and a half for them!”

Kid stared. “Ten boxes!” he ejaculated finally. “Where did you get ten boxes, I’d like to know. I only sold you one and you threw that away――――”

“I thought I might need them,” answered Lanny with a grin, “and so I got some of the fellows to sell me theirs.”

“You did, eh?” asked Kid disgustedly. “Say, you’re a regular financier, aren’t you? You and Rockefeller must look just alike at a distance, eh? I suppose you told the other fellows you had a bad cold and they gave their tablets to you?”

“No, I told them I was hard up and needed them for my starving family,” responded Lanny sweetly.

Kid flushed. Then, after a moment’s pause, “Well, you want two dollars and a half, do you?” he asked so loudly that the boys across the room in front of the hearth heard and turned around to listen.

“Well don’t yell it,” muttered Lanny. “You said you’d take the tablets back――”

“Yes, I agreed to take them back,” Kid replied loudly. “It seemed only fair, as some of you fellows were dissatisfied. There’s nothing the matter with them, of course. They’re perfectly good tablets and they’d do all I said they would. Still, if you fellows feel that you’ve been cheated――――”

“What’s the row?” asked Ben Holden, sauntering over, followed by others.

“Nothing,” replied Lanny, visibly annoyed.

“Not a thing,” said Kid sweetly. “We were only talking about the Tinkham’s Throat-Ease. Lanny says you’re all dissatisfied with them and wants me to pay back――――”

“You agreed to do it!” exclaimed Lanny warmly.

“I am ready to do it, Lanny. Get your tablets. You say you have ten boxes of them?”

“That’s why he bought ours for five cents a box!” exclaimed Sam Perkins. “Of all the underhand tricks――――”

“Who said we were dissatisfied with the tablets, I’d like to know?” inquired George Waters. “Even if we were it wouldn’t be any of your business, Lanny.”

“And we’re not, Kid.” This from Ben Holden. “And you ought to be ashamed, Lanny, to try to hold up Kid like that.”

“Oh, I’m quite ready to buy them back,” said Kid nobly. “I don’t want anyone dissatisfied. If Lanny will get his boxes――――”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” retorted Ben indignantly. “Lanny, if you say another word about your tablets we’ll take every one away from you! The idea of bothering Kid with a thing like that after what he’s done for the school!”

“You might as well take ’em,” muttered Lanny glumly. “I don’t want ’em. Kid distinctly said he’d buy ’em back――――”

“I’m going to!” Kid dived into his pocket, but Ben seized his arm.

“No, you shan’t, Kid! It isn’t going to be allowed, is it, fellows?”

“No, sir!” said Dick Gardner. “Let it be a lesson to you, Lanny, not to be sneaky. You heard Kid say he’d take the things back and instead of coming and telling us like――like a man you made believe you liked the things and made us sell you ours cheap. Now you take your medicine!”

“If he does he will die,” murmured Bert. “I wouldn’t take one for fifty dollars!”

“That’s it!” cried Stanley Pierce. “Let’s make him eat one, fellows. Come on!”

But Lanny, with one fearful howl of fright, broke through the group, eluding the restraining hands that reached for him, and fled upstairs. Above the laughter of those in the hall came the sound of a slamming door and of a bolt driven home. Ben turned to Kid, laying a hand protectingly on his shoulder.

“Don’t you pay him a cent, Kid. And if he bothers you any more you come to me.”

“Thanks, Ben. Still, rather than have him or anyone else feel that I hadn’t acted square――――”

“No one says that, Kid. The idea! Why, I――I didn’t half dislike those tablets, honest! _We_ don’t want you to take them back, do we, fellows?”

Everyone agreed that he didn’t, Bert louder than any. Kid shot a reproachful look at him and Bert grinned.

“Besides,” added Stanley Pierce, “if you must spend some of your money, Kid, you’d better spend it on eats and have a banquet, eh?”

The idea was hailed enthusiastically by everyone save Kid. Kid smiled bravely and said it was a fine scheme, but when the others wanted him to set a date he was evasive. And before they could pin him down to a flat promise the dinner gong summoned them. Lanny came down a little late and slipped into his seat as unobtrusively as possible. And when Kid deftly exchanged his own pat of butter for Lanny’s, which happened to be larger, Lanny never said a word. He was thoroughly chastened.

After school was over for the day Kid encountered Bert in the corridor upstairs. “When are you going to pay me that quarter?” inquired Kid.

“Oh, some day,” Bert replied. “You don’t need the money now, Kid.”

“Why don’t I? I need it as much as you do. Besides, it――it’s a debt of honor, Bert.”

“Oh, I’ll pay it. I said I would, didn’t I? But a fellow with a hundred dollars doesn’t need――――”

“I haven’t got a hundred dollars,” replied Kid sadly.

“Well, then, fifty.”

“I――I haven’t got fifty, Bert.”

“You said you had. Now you’re afraid you’ll have to spend some of it, I suppose.”

“Honest I haven’t. If you don’t believe me, Bert, come on and see for yourself.” Bert followed him into Number 3 and Kid got the collar-box out and emptied its contents on the bed. “That’s every cent, Bert, honest injun!”

“How much?” asked Bert.

“Seventeen and a half. Count it yourself.”

Bert counted it. “There’s eighteen-sixty-two, Kid.”

“I had a dollar and twelve cents. I’d forgotten that. But all they gave me for saving their old lives was seventeen dollars and a half!”

“But the paper said――”

“The paper didn’t know.” Kid viewed the pile of bills and coins thoughtfully. Finally he counted out ten dollars of it and pushed it resolutely toward Bert. “Say, you take charge of that for me, will you? That’s for the Fund, you know. If I have it it’ll be gone in a week.”

“I’d rather not, Kid. Suppose I lost it or it was stolen.”

“It wouldn’t be any worse than if I kept it here,” answered Kid sadly. “It would be gone just the same. I――I don’t seem to be able to save money. Besides, Bert, you’re president of the Junior Four and you ought to take charge of the funds, anyway.”

“That’s up to the treasurer, Kid.”

“We haven’t any treasurer. And if we had maybe I wouldn’t want to trust him with so much money. No, you’d better take it. You see, I agreed to give ten dollars toward the Fund and there it is.”

“Well――” Bert counted the money, rolled it in a piece of paper and dropped it into his pocket. Kid viewed the proceedings wistfully, looking very much as though on the point of changing his mind. But he didn’t. He only heaved a deep sigh and said as the money disappeared from sight: “Perhaps――perhaps, Bert, you’d better give me some kind of a receipt for it!”

XVIII

CONFESSION AND PUNISHMENT

After Bert had gone, having pledged himself to secrecy regarding the amount of Kid’s reward, Kid wandered downstairs. That is, he appeared to be wandering, but in reality he had set forth on a very definite errand, which was to rescue “Hairbreadth Harry” from the Encyclopedia Britannica. Practically all the fellows were out of doors, on slide or rink, and Kid, too, was eager to get his little red sled and go coasting. But that story-paper must be found first. Having escaped detection and its unpleasant results so far, Kid had no mind to get into trouble. In fact, realizing that Fortune had dealt most kindly with him of late, Kid was grateful and had firmly resolved to lead a better life.

The hall was empty when he came nonchalantly down the stairs, whistling idly, and, when he had paused beside the newel post to listen and had heard no alarming sounds, he loitered across to the bookshelves and stretched his hand out for Volume V of the encyclopedia. Then he stared and his jaw dropped in dismay. Volume V was gone!

Attached to the woodwork was a little black tin box filled with narrow slips of cardboard and it was the rule that when a book was taken from the hall the borrower should write his name on one of the slips and substitute it for the book. The slip was there and Kid raised it anxiously and read the name written.

“Folsom!”

Kid groaned. Fortune had deserted him utterly. Mr. Folsom, sternest of disciplinarians, would find the story-paper, would ask who had left it there and Kid would have to confess. Of course, as long as the instructor merely asked _who_ he could maintain a discreet silence; a fellow didn’t have to incriminate himself; but Mr. Folsom wouldn’t stop there. He would begin with Ben Holden and ask each boy in turn and when it came Kid’s time to answer he would have to own up. After that the deluge! Mr. Folsom was notoriously opposed to the sort of literature represented by “Hairbreadth Harry.”

Hoping against hope, Kid ran feverishly through the remaining volumes of the encyclopedia, but the paper was not there. He seated himself on the window-seat, burrowed in the cushions and tried to think calmly. Perhaps it was not yet too late. Perhaps “Hairbreadth Harry” was still reposing between the pages. If only he might get at the book before Mr. Folsom! He would try it! Fortune is said to favor the brave. Kid determined to make a bid for favor.

Mr. Folsom’s door was closed, but Kid’s knock elicited a genial “Come in!” and he entered to find Mr. Folsom, looking comfortable and informal in his shirt-sleeves, in the act of lighting his pipe.

“Hello, Fairchild,” he greeted. “Come in, my boy. What can I do for you?”

Mr. Folsom held the match to the bowl, emitted a huge cloud of smoke and sighed contentedly. Kid’s eyes surreptitiously searched the table. There lay the fifth volume unopened. Kid sighed, too, but with relief rather than contentment.

“I saw you had Volume V of the encyclopedia, sir,” he said. “I wanted to look up something and so I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it a minute if you’re not using it.”

“Certainly, certainly.” The instructor waved his pipe at the book. “Help yourself, Fairchild, help yourself. I’m glad to see this thirst for information.”

“Thank you, sir.” Kid gripped the book tightly under his arm. “I won’t keep it but a minute, sir.”

“Oh, don’t bother to lug it out. Sit right down there and use it. There’s paper beside you and pen and ink in front there. No use carrying a heavy book like that out just for a minute, you know.”

“No, sir; thank you, sir,” murmured Kid, depositing the volume in its place again and sinking into the swivel chair. “I just thought maybe you wouldn’t want me to bother you. It may take me a while to find what I want.”

“Take all the time you want,” replied Mr. Folsom heartily. He was evidently in a most genial mood this afternoon. While Kid opened the volume carefully so as not to display the story-paper, he looked on benignly and puffed at his pipe. Kid, frowning, turned page after page, in the hope that Mr. Folsom would turn his back long enough for him to pull the paper out. But Mr. Folsom didn’t turn. He just stood there behind Kid and his eyes seemed to be boring into the back of Kid’s head. Kid turned the pages more wildly, seeing nothing.

“Maybe I can help you,” suggested the instructor presently. “What is it you’re looking for, Fairchild?”

“Er――er――” Kid’s mind was a blank. What _was_ he looking for? “Why――er――” Horrors! He had almost blurted “Hairbreadth Harry!”

“Well, well!” Mr. Folsom laughed. “Surely you haven’t forgotten!”

“No, sir; I’m looking for――for ‘tristichous’.”

“For _what_?”

“Tristichous, sir.” Somewhere, months ago, Kid had come across the word and, as frequently happens, it had stuck in his memory. He hadn’t the slightest idea as to its meaning and Mr. Folsom’s surprise caused him an uneasy fear that perhaps tristichous was something he oughtn’t to know about.

“Tristichous,” mused the instructor. “That’s new to me, Fairchild. Of course we know what a tristich is――”

“Yes, sir,” murmured Kid, who hadn’t the least idea what it was.

“But tristichous――” Mr. Folsom paused and frowned. “Perhaps of the nature of a tristich, but that isn’t entirely satisfactory, is it?”

“No, sir,” agreed Kid. “That’s what I thought.”

“How was the word used? Do you recall the sentence?”

“N-no, sir, I don’t.”

“Well, we’ll look it up.” Mr. Folsom advanced to the table and laid hands on the book. “I’m curious myself about it. I fancy we’ll find that it is a scientific term, perhaps used in botany or architecture.”

Kid was in a panic. If the instructor turned the pages it was a foregone conclusion that he would discover “Hairbreadth Harry.”

“I’ll find it, sir!” exclaimed Kid. He began to turn the leaves hurriedly, working away from the front of the volume where the story-paper reposed.

“Look for T,” murmured Mr. Folsom. “Why, my dear boy, this isn’t the volume you want! This is D!”

“Oh!” Kid stared at the book. “So it is!”

Mr. Folsom laughed. “How did you think it was spelled, eh?”

“I――I guess I was thinking it began with D,” muttered Kid confusedly. “I――I’ll get the right volume, sir.”

He jumped up, seized the book from the table, and started for the door. But with his hand on the knob he heard the instructor’s fateful protest.

“Hold on, Fairchild, you might leave that volume here. I’m not through with it.”

Kid paused at the open door. “I――I was just going to put it back while I took the other one, sir. You know the rule is you can’t have but one book out at a time.”

“I guess that doesn’t apply to me, Fairchild,” Mr. Folsom laughed. “Still――well, take it along. As a matter of fact, my boy, I’ve forgotten what I was going to look up. This tristichous business of yours has knocked the other thing out of my head!”

“Yes, sir; I’m sorry, sir,” murmured Kid. Then he closed the door behind him, heaved a deep sigh of relief, dexterously transferred “Hairbreadth Harry” to his pocket and scuttled down the stairs. Two minutes later he was at the rink, Mr. Folsom and “tristichous” quite forgotten.

Practice was almost over when he joined the small audience along the barrier. On the further rink the Day Team had for once assembled in full strength and its members were putting in some hard licks in preparation for the final contest on the following Saturday. Kid watched them contemptuously for a while and then turned his attention to the House Team. Lanny, since his lucky shot in the last game, had been taken onto the team as a regular and was charging wildly around the ice, slashing and stumbling.

“Lanny’s getting better all the time,” remarked Bert.

“If he gets much better,” Kid responded, “he will break his neck!”

This witticism elicited a hearty laugh from his hearers. Kid was discovering that since he had become a hero his faintest efforts to be humorous met with flattering success, and his words were listened to with a new and almost disconcerting respect. And Kid was a philosopher and he determined to make the most of his glory. That is why, when, presently, the fellows returned to the hall, Kid selected the most comfortable chair in front of the big fireplace and stretched his legs out until his wet shoes rested comfortably on the edge of the fender. Ordinarily Kid’s place was, with the rest of the youngsters, outside the circle. But only Dick Gardner uttered any protest, and that half-heartedly.

“Well, you believe in making yourself comfortable, don’t you, Kid?” he inquired dryly.

“Did you want this chair?” Kid asked politely, moving as though to relinquish it.

“No, there are others,” answered Dick, relenting. “Keep your seat, Kid.”

So Kid kept it and the upper class fellows ranged themselves beside him, and Bert, Lanny and Small sat outside the pale and observed him enviously. Kid felt very content and was wondering how he could bring the conversation around to the subject of his heroism without seeming to do so when Mr. Folsom descended the stairs. He was making for Doctor Merton’s room when his glance, sweeping over the group in front of the hearth, lighted on Kid.

“Ah, Fairchild!” He stopped and smiled at the hero. “Did you find that word?”

“Er――no, sir.”

“Really? Did you look thoroughly?”

“I――I didn’t have time. I’m going to look it up after supper, sir.”

“No time like the present, my boy. Come along.”

So Kid yielded his chair with a sigh and joined the instructor at the bookcase. And when, five minutes later, it had been discovered that “tristichous” meant “arranged on the stem in three vertical rows,” and when, ten minutes later, Mr. Folsom had concluded his short lecture on the derivation of the word and its application to the science of botany, Kid returned to the hearth to find Sewall Crandall occupying his chair. And, although Kid was not in the least deficient in assurance, he somehow found himself unequal to the emergency, and so sank into a seat in the outer darkness without a protest.

It was on Friday morning that Kid got a letter from his father, and, with it, a shorter note from his mother. Doctor Merton’s news had reached them――the Doctor had also sent a clipping from the local paper――and they were both very proud and happy. Of course Kid’s father strove to write as though his son had performed quite an everyday, ordinary bit of heroism, praiseworthy, to be sure, but nothing to boast of. But his efforts weren’t altogether successful, for his pride showed through here and there. Kid’s mother’s note sounded almost tearful, and Kid got a little choky himself when he read it. On the whole, those two epistles didn’t contribute greatly to his peace of mind. He felt rather ashamed of himself, in fact. He almost wished that the Doctor had written about the other matter, too. The more he considered his recent efforts to become a merchant prince the more he was convinced that he had acted dishonestly. It had all been――been very unfortunate, he sighed. He hadn’t really meant to deceive anyone; he hadn’t really meant to go to the village and embark on that orgy of candy and pastry and root beer; it seemed now, as he reviewed the recent happenings, as though some malignant fate had just simply dragged him on from one indiscretion to another. Kid gloomed over the matter until afternoon. Then he reached a heroic resolve. He would confess!

But a good half-hour intervened between the resolution and the act. It wasn’t so easy, after all. And in the end it was not the Doctor whom he sought, but Mrs. Merton. Even then it was a difficult task, and it was some time before he succeeded in convincing her of his crimes. “I――I thought the Doctor ought to know,” ended Kid.

“Of course, James, but why didn’t you go to him?”

Kid hung his head and was silent.

“Shall we go to him now and tell him?” asked Mother gently.

Kid nodded readily but with no enthusiasm, and they made their way from Mrs. Merton’s sitting-room to the Doctor’s office. There Kid, helpfully prompted by the Doctor’s wife, made a clean breast of it all; how, in order to sell his throat tablets, he had allowed the fellows to think that financial disaster had overtaken his family, how he had gone to the village and spent almost all his earnings and how he had stolen away from school to become a sailor. More than once the Doctor turned and busied himself with a book or a paper to hide the trembling of his lips, and once Kid, glancing up suddenly, surprised Mrs. Merton with a broad smile on her face. But the Doctor spoke very gravely when Kid had concluded his narrative, and Kid guessed he must have been mistaken about that smile. The upshot of it all was that Kid was to made a clean breast to the fellows and ask their pardons for the deception he had practiced. Also he was to remain in bounds for two weeks. Kid came away from that interview almost happy and filled with noble resolves to be a better boy. The punishment was nothing compared to the relief of getting that load from his mind!

He rather funked the task that remained, however, and when the fellows had assembled in the hall as was customary during the half-hour before supper he roamed restlessly about for quite ten minutes before he gained sufficient courage to speak his piece. And when he did begin his voice was so low and husky that no one heard his first request of attention.

“Say, you fellows,” began Kid again, clearing his throat.

“What?” asked Sam Perkins lazily.

“I――I’ve got something to say,” proceeded Kid.

“Out with it, then. Been doing any more blooming heroics?”

“No, it――isn’t about that――exactly,” Kid faltered. By this time his audience was attentive, for it was evident from Kid’s embarrassment that something was up. “It’s about my――my folks.”

“Go ahead,” said Ben Holden. “What about ’em, Kid? Haven’t had bad news, have you?” Ben was gruffly kind and anxious.

“No. That’s it. I mean――――”

“Stop walking around and let’s hear it,” advised Stanley Pierce. “You’ve been up to some prank, I’ll bet!”

“My folks are all right,” blurted Kid.

“Glad to hear it. Do you mean that they’ve got their money back again, Kid?”

“They――they never lost it.”

“Oh! Well, what made you think they had?” asked Ben.

“I――I didn’t. I just let you fellows think that so you’d buy those Tinkham things.”

There was an ominous silence for a moment. Then Stanley, half rising from his chair, ejaculated: “You young rascal!”

“Hold on,” said Ben. “Let’s get this right, Stanley. You mean you told that whopper just to work on our――our sympathies, Kid?”

“I――I didn’t really _say_ it,” faltered Kid. “I just said they didn’t send me much money now, and you fellows thought I meant――――”

“Cut it out! You meant us to think it, Kid. Now didn’t you?”

“I――I suppose so,” Kid murmured.

“You ought to get a hiding!” exclaimed Stanley.

“What made you fess up now, Kid?” asked George Waters.

“I told the Doctor and he said I ought to tell you fellows and ask your pardons.”

“Oh, so you told the Doctor, eh? What did he do to you?”

“In bounds two weeks,” replied Kid gloomily.

“And mighty soft,” said Ben. “He ought to have put you on probation for a month. After you’d got us pitying your people and buying your nasty old tablets to help you you went down to the village and spent all the money and made yourself sick. That’s a fine game, isn’t it?”

Kid was silent. Someone chuckled.

“What’s the joke, young Bryant?” demanded Ben coldly.

Bert turned his chuckling into a cough.

“Better take a Tinkham’s Throat-Ease for that,” advised Sewall Crandall sotto voce. A smile went around the circle. Even Ben’s face relaxed from its frown.

“Still,” said Sam Perkins, “Kid did save that train, you know. You can’t get around that.”

“How do we know he did?” asked Ben. “Maybe he lied about that, too!”

“How about it?” demanded Stanley Pierce. “Did you really save that train, Kid, or was that more of your――your lively imagination?”

“That was just like I said,” responded Kid, “mostly.”

“Mostly!”

“I mean――I――I exaggerated a little, maybe――――”

“I knew it!” exclaimed Ben.

“Well, the paper had it, didn’t it?” asked Sam Perkins. “Of course he saved the train. You did, didn’t you, Kid? And got a lot of money for it, too, eh?”

“Not――not so much as I let you think,” replied Kid uneasily.

“Oh! Well, how much, then?”

“Seventeen dollars and a half, Sam.”

There was a laugh. “Do you mean they only gave you seventeen dollars and a half for saving their lives?” ejaculated Ben. “Why, the paper said there were two hundred of ’em!”

“That’s all they gave me, though,” responded Kid. “I showed it to Bert. He saw it. You ask him.”

“That’s right, fellows; I counted it,” confirmed Bert.

“Look here,” said Ben, “let’s get the hang of this, fellows. Kid, you sit down there and tell the whole thing just as it happened. And no――no fancy embroidery, do you understand? What made you start selling those Tinkham things, in the first place?”