Part 3

"He told me he liked you better than any boy in the school," said young Pond eagerly. "I never heard him say one word against you, except that you didn't work very hard. He declared he never would have been able to lead the class if you had put in half the time he did, on your studies."

"That's kind of him," said Ward laughingly, although he was touched by the evident earnestness of the boy before him. "Is this the first time you've ever been away from home?"

"Yes. And I fear I'm going to be homesick too."

"Oh, you mustn't mind that!" said Ward as philosophically as if such feelings were an every-day matter in his life. "You'll get over that all right."

"That's what my brother said. And he told me too, that I should need some one to look after me a bit and help to keep me out of the clutches of the 'Tangs,' or some such things. I don't know just what he meant, only he said if I would come to you, that you would help me till he came back next term."

For a moment Ward was silent. The "Tangs" had not once been mentioned during the summer, and both Henry and Jack had been silent concerning them. But Ward, although he did not know what course Jack would follow, had decided that for himself safety lay only in breaking with them. But his heart was not entirely free from fears or misgivings when he thought of the possible consequences for himself. And here was Pond's younger brother coming to him with the utmost confidence for protection against the very boys whom he most feared himself. He glanced again at the lad before him. What a slight, delicate little fellow he was. And yet what a bright, eager expression he had. He would have no difficulty in his classes; Ward felt certain of that; but what would he do if the boys began to trouble him?

"You come to me, Pond, whenever you're in trouble, and I'll do my best for you," he finally said, unable to resist the unspoken as well as the spoken appeal of the slight boy before him.

"Thank you! Thank you!" replied Pond, rising from his chair and departing just as Henry returned.

It was late on the following morning when Ward and Henry started to go to the dining hall, and they met many of the boys who already had eaten their breakfast. Ward secretly felt relieved at the fact, for the meeting with the boys was what troubled him most. He had been in trouble when the preceding year had closed, and unpopularity was something of which Ward Hill stood in greater fear than of anything else. How he would be received now was the constantly pressing question, but its solution would soon come, for "chapel" would bring all the boys together, and he would not long be left in doubt as to his position among his fellows then.

The chapel bell was ringing when Ward and Henry hastily left the Hall, or "hash house" as the building was commonly known, and they hastened back to their rooms to secure their books before they ran swiftly up the walk which led to the chapel. Even then there was the usual delay on the part of some of the students, and Jack Hobart was leading a band of delinquents as the bell began to give out the sharp short strokes that indicated the end of its summons.

"String out there! String out, you fellows!" called Jack, as he caught sight of Ward and Henry, meanwhile striving hard to button his collar and adjust his tie.

This time Ward understood the meaning of the hail far better than when he had first heard it in the preceding year, and ceasing to run, he approached the building more slowly, thus giving Jack and the other delinquents an opportunity to overtake them and secure their seats before the bell ceased to be rung and the doors were closed.

Their seats now were in the section which belonged to the seniors. Last year how he had looked up to the boys who occupied these seats. Ned Butler was there then, and others whom Ward had deeply respected. Was any one looking up to him as he had looked up to that marvelous class which had been graduated in the preceding June? Just then he caught a glimpse of young Pond, who was evidently far from feeling at his ease in the midst of the strange scene.

But Dr. Gray then arose and the low murmur which had filled the chapel became hushed as the exercises were begun. Then followed a talk from the doctor concerning the work of the year which lay before them, and Ward could not repress a smile as Jack Hobart looked solemnly at him and held up four fingers of one hand, thereby indicating that this was the fourth occasion on which he had listened to the same "lecture" from the good old man. However, the words were well worthy of repetition and Ward was soon interested and listened attentively. Directions were given the new boys concerning the rooms and places in which they were to report, and then each class was told what was to be expected of it on that day, and the boys arose and started toward the doors. Ward now knew that the testing time had come, and he would soon understand just what he had to expect from his old companions. Summoning all his resolution as he passed out, he saw Tim Pickard standing with a group of boys, and at once turned and approached him holding out his hand and endeavoring to appear calm and indifferent.

"Hello, Tim. Glad to see you back again."

Tim Pickard turned and looked insolently at Ward. There was not a gleam of recognition or pleasure expressed upon his face. He looked at Ward just a moment and then, ignoring the outstretched hand and the salutation alike, he turned again to the boys before him and resumed his conversation with them.

Ward's face flushed crimson, and at first he felt as if he could not control the feeling of anger which surged up in his heart. Who was Tim Pickard, that he should treat him in such a manner? Had he not been expelled from the school? Did not every fellow in the school know just what he was? Had any one forgotten the escapades of the coarse-fibred boy? Ward's heart sank quickly, however, when he thought of his own record in the preceding year. If Dr.. Gray was willing to receive Tim Pickard back into the school for another trial, who was he to complain? And how much better after all was he than Tim?

Ward caught the words "sneak" and "bootlick," which Tim had uttered as he had turned again to his companions, and realized then just what he would have to face. Tim Pickard's anger, the enmity of the "Tangs," and a series of petty annoyances which would be bound to follow him now perhaps all through the school year, must be met.

It seemed to the troubled boy as if every one in his class was against him, for he received but a friendly nod or a slight recognition as he hurried into the Latin room and took his old familiar place. Jack already was in the chair next to his and Ward at once perceived from the expression on his face that he was aware of the state of the feeling in the school.

"Never mind, Ward," he whispered, as his classmate took his seat; "just you keep in mind what I told you about the condition of your vertebrae, and the region of your upper lip. It'll all come out right."

To do Ward Hill justice we must say that there was a feeling in his heart which did not promise to be altogether bad. It is true he was hurt and angry as he recognized what lay before him, perhaps more angry than hurt, but he was determined now not to be crushed, or "downed," as he termed it. Mr. Crane kept the class but a few moments, only long enough to assign lessons and to make a few general suggestions, and then dismissed them.

As they filed out of the room, Jack said: "Ward, will you come over to my room now?"

"No," replied Ward quietly. "I think I'll go over to West and get a little start in my work. If I'm to be valedic, you know, I must begin early." Ward smiled slightly as he spoke, but he could not entirely conceal the depression which now swept over him. "Never mind, Speck, don't worry about me," he quickly added as he saw the sympathy expressed upon his friend's face; "I'm going to come through it all right. I'm not for giving up yet, anyway. I'll come over to see you after a bit; but just now I think I'll go to my room."

"All right," said Jack heartily, evidently appreciating Ward's desire to be alone.

Ward walked slowly over toward West Hall. He felt as if nearly all his companions would be against him now. Tim Pickard, in spite of his well-known character, was still a good deal of a leader, and his wealth and success as an athlete added greatly to his power over the boys. He could not repress the wish that Doctor Gray had not permitted Tim to return, for he must have known what every boy in the Weston school thought of him, and must also have known that there was very slight prospect of Tim's ever advancing. But here he was, and Ward must face the conditions which were before him. There was to be no escape now.

He entered his room and at once began to study. It was difficult for him to hold himself to his work, but he succeeded in a measure, and when two hours later Henry entered, Ward had much of his work done. So far as his class work was concerned he could look forward with confidence to what was to come on the morrow.

Throughout the day Ward found that his only consolation was in busying himself in some work. When he went down to the boarding hall he had but little to say to his companions, and returned at once to his room.

The day somehow passed and after the evening meal, when he had seated himself before his study table to write his first letter home, Big Smith suddenly entered the room, and said:

"Why, Ward, I haven't seen you to speak to you before. Where have you kept yourself?"

"I haven't been very far away," replied Ward with a smile.

His heart had never been drawn to the boy before him, but in times like the present even the friendship of Big Smith was not to be lightly cast aside. Ward Hill could endure anything better than the ill-will of his fellows.

"Well, I'm glad to see you," said Big Smith solemnly. "I sincerely trust you are going to do better this year than you did last."

"I hope so too," said Ward; "and I'm not without hope," he added solemnly, and striving to imitate exactly the tones Big Smith had used, "that you too will be able to improve."

"Let us hope so. Let us hope so. Doubtless there is room for us all. But, Ward, I'm not so much afraid of you as I am of Tim Pickard. I don't see why the doctor ever permitted him to return. I shouldn't, I'm sure of that."

Ward's face flushed and an angry retort rose upon his lips, but he restrained himself, and Big Smith continued:

"Yes, I confess, I'm not overmuch rejoiced over Tim's return. He's a good man for the nine, we all know that; but I fear he may be a disturbing element in the school. Not with me," he hastily added, "but I fear for you, Ward, I do, indeed."

Still Ward managed in some way to keep silent, though, as he afterward explained it, he never understood just how it was done.

"Even now," continued Big Smith, "I hear that Timothy is at work again. My brother informs me that he and some of his cronies have beguiled young Pond down on the ball ground and are tormenting him there."

"What? What's that, you say?" said Ward quickly, leaping from his seat as he spoke, and without waiting for his question to be answered he seized his hat and ran swiftly out of the room. Down the stairs he rushed, three steps at a jump, and out along the pathway that led to the ball ground.

One thought possessed him now--Little Pond was in trouble. Ward recalled his own promise to aid him, and now that the lad was suffering at the hands of Tim Pickard two feelings drove him on. One was his compassion for Pond and the other was his anger at Tim.

It was dusk, the sun having disappeared, but the darkness not as yet having settled over all. He ran swiftly forward and as he came near the ball ground he stopped as he heard a shout of laughter coming from that direction. It seemed to him he could hear Tim Pickard's voice above the others, but he did not stop to question as he again ran swiftly forward.

He soon came to the brow of the low hill that looked down upon the field. There he stopped for a moment and looked before him. He could see that four or five boys were there and there was something in the midst which at first he could not make out. Soon, however, he could see what it was. It was a baby carriage and some one was lying strapped upon it.

"Look out now, gentlemen," he heard some one of the boys call. "We have here the finest specimen of the infant terrible ever yet seen. _Genus homo_, order----"

"Don't! Please don't!" Ward heard some one pleadingly say. The voice was that of young Pond and the other speaker he now knew was Tim Pickard.

The pleadings were not heeded, however, and with a rush the boys started with the baby carriage over the rough ground.

Again Ward could hear the pleadings of the frightened lad and the sound was more than he could bear. In an instant he started down the hillside at his highest speed and ran swiftly on toward the noisy group.

*CHAPTER V*

*A WARNING*

Ward had drawn near the group before his presence was discovered. The deepening dusk and the sheltered position of the ball ground had made the boys who were tormenting Little Pond almost reckless, so secure did they feel from detection. As a consequence he was close upon them before any one perceived him.

"Now shake the infant up! Bye, baby, bye! That's a good little boy. We'll give him a good ride, so we will!"

There was no mistaking that voice, it could be none other than Tim Pickard's, and Ward could see that he was holding the handle of the carriage and was preparing to make another rush with the unfortunate lad who lay stretched upon it.

"Look out! Look out!" called one of the boys suddenly, as he caught sight of the approaching form. "Some one's coming. Let's get out of this!"

In an instant Tim's companions scattered and fled in the darkness, while Tim himself looked about him in surprise, as if he were not yet able to account for the sudden departure of his friends.

Ward was close upon him now, and without hesitating an instant he rushed upon the tormentor of Little Pond with such force that he was sent headlong and rolled over and over upon the ground before he could regain his foothold.

Ward had not fully realized what he would have to meet in the struggle, for he had thought that he would be set upon by all the assembled mischief-makers together; but the cry of Little Pond had banished all other thoughts from his mind, and he had gone recklessly to the aid of the lad. He had not counted at all upon the results which quickly followed.

As soon as Tim could recover himself he ran swiftly off in the darkness in the direction in which his companions had disappeared, and in a moment no one was left upon the scene except Ward and the lad, who still was lying fast bound and in an exceedingly uncomfortable position upon the top of the baby carriage.

Doubtless the fears in the heart of Tim and his companions had either exaggerated the number of those who were approaching, or they had thought some of the teachers were making a descent upon them, and in the latter event Tim most of all would have found a very serious problem to face.

At any rate, they had all disappeared so quickly that Ward could hardly believe at first that he was left alone. He waited a moment to see if any would return, his blood boiling, and the feeling of anger in his heart making him almost reckless of any consequences that might befall him for his hasty but generous action.

As soon as he was satisfied that no one was coming back he turned to young Pond, and as he unbound the straps by which he had been held fast, he said:

"What's the meaning of this? How came you to be here?"

"I don't know. I was walking along the path over by the chapel when three fellows rushed at me, and before I knew what they were about they were rushing me down here upon the ball ground. One of them tied his handkerchief over my mouth, but I tore it off. I didn't want to cry out, but I couldn't help it. They didn't seem to think any one could hear me and so left it off."

"Are you hurt?"

"Not much, though my back pains me. You see, they picked me up and tied me in the carriage so that my head and shoulders hung over the back, and every time they made a rush it seemed to me as if they would break me straight in two."

"How long have you been here?"

"I don't know; it seems as if it must have been days, but I don't suppose it was more than half an hour. I thought they'd never stop."

"Do you know who the fellows were?"

"Yes."

"Who were they?"

"I don't think I'll tell, Ward. It wouldn't do any good; and besides, I may be mistaken, you know. No, I'd rather not tell you if you don't mind."

"You don't need to," said Ward quietly. "I know who they were. At least I know who one was, and I rather think he'll not forget his tumble very soon, either. But come on now, it's time we were in our rooms. There goes the study bell now, and we'll be marked late if we don't look out. Come on."

Both boys started quickly toward West Hall, and on their way they met a group of five boys, one of whom was Tim Pickard. They too were heading for their rooms, but the recognition was mutual, and Ward instantly realized that his own troubles were likely to be multiplied by that fact. However, he said nothing to his companion. In a few moments they entered West Hall; but the bell had ceased ringing several minutes before, and as they went up the stairway they met Mr. Blake face to face.

"Late are you, Hill?" said the teacher. "I'm sorry to see that so early in the term. And you have one of the younger boys with you too!" he added as he saw who Ward's companion was. "That's too bad, Hill, that's too bad. You ought not to get the little fellows into trouble too. It's quite enough for you to get into it yourself. If this happens again, Hill, I shall report it to Dr. Gray."

It had been in Ward's heart to explain the cause of his tardiness, or at least to try to shield his companion, but as Mr. Blake talked on, he resolutely shut his lips together and without a word of explanation went on up to his room, while Little Pond also departed to his.

As Ward entered the room Henry looked up in surprise, and Ward felt that there was an implied rebuke in his glance. Repressing the feeling of anger which at first arose, he soon explained to his chum the exciting scene he had just witnessed, and as he finished, Henry said:

"That was a mean trick! They might have broken the little fellow's back. It was Tim Pickard at the bottom of it, I suppose."

"Yes," said Ward quietly.

"Well, never mind, Ward," said Henry quickly. "Probably he'll turn his attention to you now; but I think you'll be able to stand it."

"I shall try to," said Ward with a smile, as he seated himself at his study table, and taking up his books began his preparation of the lessons for the following day. And he studied hard all that evening. His heart was still hot and his feelings were bitter whenever he thought of the brutal treatment of Little Pond, and yet he did not once pause to consider that a year before this time he might have been one of the very boys to be foremost in such a scrape, and call it good fun. Now, however, it seemed to him like a very cowardly act. He had felt a very strong personal liking for the elder Pond, and the letters he had received from him, as well as the appeal of the little fellow himself, had worked strongly upon his own heart. Besides all that, it was such an entirely unusual experience for him to be approached for aid that it was a new motive in his heart which was stirred now. Hitherto, he had been the one to seek help. Now he was a senior, and the feeling of respect with which he had looked to the older boys when he had entered the Weston school must be very like that which Pond's brother now felt toward him.

Ward enjoyed the feeling too. The cry of Little Pond for aid came back to him frequently and he had fully resolved before the evening passed that he would "see the little fellow through," which was the way in which he expressed his determination to see that the lad was not put upon or tormented by Tim Pickard or any of his boon companions.

Still, when the morning came Ward was hardly prepared for the consequences which soon followed his action.

When he entered the post office he found a letter awaiting him there, which evidently had been written by some boy, for the handwriting plainly showed that, and the postmark was Weston.

He hastily tore open the envelope and then read the enclosed letter, which was as follows:

WESTON SCHOOL, September 18, 19--

To WARD HILL, SNEAK:

You are hereby notified that you have been expelled from the ancient and venerable order of "Orang-outangs." You have promised never to betray any of the secrets of the order, but probably you will not keep your word any better in this case than you do in others. We want to warn you though, that your best plan is to leave the school at once. Don't delay, for delays are dangerous. Your life will not be safe. You will be snubbed by the fellows and you will find that everybody, except a few sneaks, in the whole school is down on you. If you stay it will be at your own peril. Take the advice and follow the warning of the

COMMITTEE.

As Ward looked up after finishing the reading of the letter he saw Tim Pickard standing in the doorway and regarding him with ill-concealed hatred. Ward laughed aloud as he saw the boy, and approaching him and holding out the letter which he had just read, he said:

"There, Tim, you'd better take your letter; I don't want it. You may be able to scare the little fellows in the dark as you did Little Pond last night, but you can't scare me. As for you and the 'Tangs,' you know I don't care that for them," and he snapped his fingers derisively as he spoke. "You know as well as I do that I had made up my mind never to have anything more to do with such fellows. Perhaps, if you don't want the letter, Dr. Gray might care for it," he added as Tim made no movement to receive it.

Ward was sorry for the words the moment he had uttered them, but they were gone beyond recall now. He had not the slightest inclination to give the letter to the principal, and he knew that Tim Pickard was aware of that fact too; but Tim instantly snatched the letter from his hand and giving Ward a look of intense hatred turned quickly on his heel and departed.

Ward was inclined to laugh at the entire matter. As for the "Tangs," he was glad that the break had come. He had known that his only safety lay in cutting loose from them, but just how it was to be done he had not been able to decide. It had been a topic of conversation to which neither he nor Jack had referred since the vacation had begun, and now that the break at last had really come, Ward felt relieved.

As for their threats, he cared little for them. The most they could do would be a series of petty annoyances, and in the present state of his feelings that seemed a very small matter.

Of Tim Pickard's hatred for him he had no doubt, but that the brutal leader would be able to annoy him seriously he had no fear. He had all those lessons yet to learn, along with some others that were not indicated in the "course of study" as mapped out in the catalogue of the Weston school.