The two boys stood a moment looking at each other in silence. Walter was the first to speak and his voice trembled as he said:
“Dan, do you believe it?”
“I don’t want to,” replied Dan quietly.
“But do you?”
“Yes; at least, I believe a part.”
“Which part?”
“That about the ipecac.”
“What don’t you believe?”
“That Gus Kiggins intended to hit me with the ball.”
“Surely you don’t think I had anything to do with that!”
“Of course I don’t, Walter.”
“Do you think I had anything to do with the ipecac?”
“You know better than I do about that.”
“Do you?” said Walter persistently.
“I hate to believe it, Walter.”
“That means you think I did.”
As Dan was silent the troubled boy looked at his roommate in a manner that increased the uneasiness of both. As Dan glanced out the window a moment he saw Carlton Hall running across the campus toward the dormitory, but he gave the little fellow no thought. He was troubled now by more serious matters than the trials of a boy in the fourth form.
“Dan,” said Walter at last, “I’m the most miserable fellow in the Tait School.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It seems as if everything and everybody was against me. I don’t know why it is that Gus got me into such things.”
“Don’t you?”
“No, I don’t,” said Walter irritably.
“Walter,” said Dan quietly, “didn’t you know what kind of a fellow Gus was when you began to run with him?”
“I thought all the fellows were down on him. He isn’t as bad as some of them say he is.”
“That’s very likely so.”
“But this thing is the worst——”
“What thing?”
“Oh, you know what I mean. This ipecac business.”
“Why did Gus want to make me sick?”
“You know that too. He expected to be the pitcher of the nine. Everybody else expected him to be too. At first Gus was down on me for bringing you here, but he got over that. He had two plans going—one was to make you just sick enough so that you couldn’t play in the game with the academy or, if you did play, that you’d fall down and the fellows would have to call on him; and the other was to try to have the officers of the league bring a charge against you—that you were a professional—had been paid for playing.”
“How did Gus think he could do that?”
“He had a letter from that harness-maker at Rodman——”
“Who? Si?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he didn’t say I was a professional, did he?”
“Not exactly; but his letter was a funny one. Even you would laugh if you should read it.”
“What did Si write?”
“A lot of stuff. He praised you to the skies and went on to say that every man, woman, and child in Rodman knew that you had had an offer to play on a professional team ‘for big money,’ as he put it. Of course his letter was worded in such a way that one might think you had been paid——”
“I understand,” said Dan shortly. “Did Gus write the letter?”
“Ye-es, though I’m afraid I helped,” said Walter slowly.
“How did Gus know about the harness-maker?”
“I’m afraid I told him that too,” said Walter wretchedly. “But the letter hasn’t been used,” he added eagerly.
“How do you know it hasn’t?”
“Why—you see—I thought—I thought I had the letter in my pocket!” exclaimed Walter aghast as, after feeling in every pocket, he failed to find the missive.
“Probably Gus has it or has had it and sent it on,” said Dan.
“That isn’t square, Dan!”
“Maybe it isn’t. So Gus was holding back the letter until he had tried a dose of ipecac on me, was he?”
“That was the plan,” faltered Walter.
“Well, Gus pitched to-day anyway. He ought to be satisfied.”
“But he lost the game.”
“Say the game was lost.”
“It’s all the same. Dan, there isn’t any use in trying to mince matters. I can’t say anything. You know I was mixed up in the matter and it served me right too when I got the glass with the ipecac in it. I’m all broken up, Dan. Do you think you ever can call it square?”
“Walter,” began Dan soberly, “I want you to know——”
What it was that Dan desired to say was left unspoken for, at that moment, a loud piercing scream came from the hall below.
Without a word Dan darted from the room and, leaping down the stairway, came face to face with Gus Kiggins. The burly giant was holding Carlton Hall by his left wrist and was twisting the arm of the little fellow in a way that had brought forth the screams of pain which had startled the two boys.
“You little sneak,” Gus was saying to Carlton, “you will go and tell the fellows that I tried to make Dan sick, will you? I’ll teach you! You’ll get what you deserve if I have to——”
Gus stopped abruptly as Dan stood before him. “Let go of the little fellow,” he ordered.
“I’ll let him go just as soon as I have——”
“Let him go!” interrupted Dan in a low voice.
“I’ll let him go!” shouted Gus as he abruptly released his grasp on Carlton and turned savagely upon Dan. “You’re another! You’re a fraud! You run around with your pious whine and try to do the ‘good little boy’ act! I’ve been aching to get a chance at you, you bean-fed, white-livered, country hypocrite!” Raising his fist he struck blindly at the boy before him.
Dan, who was cool, stepped nimbly to one side to avoid the blow and Gus lurched heavily forward. Before he could recover himself, little Carlton Hall suddenly flung himself forward and grasped the knees of the infuriated young giant. Gus staggered as he strove to free himself and as he released one foot he kicked viciously at the prostrate boy. Carlton’s grasp relaxed and, with a groan, he fell upon the floor.
The sight of the white upturned face was more than Dan could endure. Without a word he flung himself upon Gus, exerting himself to the utmost to thrust him out of the open door. Instantly Walter joined in the fray but, even with his aid, Dan was scarcely able to move the struggling giant.
How the contest would have ended he did not know, but at that moment Hodge and Ned entered the hall. For an instant they gazed in astonishment at the sight of the combatants and then the meaning of it all became clear. Without a word they seized Gus, and while one held his right arm and the other his left, the furious boy was speedily helpless, if not subdued, in their hands.
“Now then, Gus Kiggins, what have you got to say for yourself?” demanded Ned, as he looked into the face before him.
“You’re all down on me. Nobody in the school gives me a fair show,” whimpered Gus. Then, crazed by his rage, he suddenly exerted himself with all his strength and breaking away with an unexpected action ran swiftly to the door and fled from the building.
“He’s gone,” said Ned breathlessly.
Dan did not speak, but turning hastily to Carlton, who was still lying where he had fallen, he lifted the little fellow and said, “Are you hurt?”
“My side. He kicked me,” whispered the boy.
Briefly Dan related to his friends what had occurred and with many exclamations of anger Ned assisted Dan to carry Carlton up to his room, where an examination was made after Carlton had been placed on a bed.
“I don’t believe he is badly hurt,” said Hodge. “He had his wind knocked out of him by that hard kick; that seems to be about all.”
“I’ll go for a doctor,” suggested Walter hastily. But Carlton himself protested so strongly that the plan was abandoned—at least for the present—and then the four boys seated themselves to talk over what had occurred and what was to be done.
“That fellow will leave to-night if he knows what is good for him!” said Ned angrily. “He’s the worst I ever saw. Did he hurt your pitching arm any more?” he added, turning to Dan as he spoke.
“I don’t know. I can’t just tell,” replied Dan.
“Do you think you can pitch next week?”
“I guess so.”
“We’ll be in a hole if you can’t. Come on. We’ll go over and get the doctor started on it right away.”
“Hold on a minute, fellows,” said Walter. “I’ve got something I want to say to you.”
“Say it and be quick about it,” replied Ned brusquely.
“I want to tell you all that I’ve been a chump.”
“That’s right, Walter, you certainly have,” said Hodge brutally.
“I know it a good deal better than you do,” continued Walter, his face betraying his deep feeling. “There isn’t any use in my saying I’m sorry. I don’t see how I could have done it. If you fellows want to put somebody in my place at short, I’ll agree to it. I’ll agree to anything that you may suggest. From now on, I want to be fair.”
“Don’t say any more, Walter,” interrupted Dan.
“Let him say it,” protested Ned. “It’ll do him good. When a fellow has let himself be made a fool of by such a chap as Gus Kiggins, he can’t do any more——”
“That’s right. He’s said enough. We all understand.”
“Do you call it off, Dan?” demanded Hodge.
“I most certainly do.”
“Well, if you are agreed, I don’t think there’s much for the rest of us to say.”
“Come on, Ned,” suggested Dan uneasily. “I thought you wanted me to go over to the doctor’s with you and get something for my arm.”
“I do,” said Ned, rising promptly. “We’ll settle this later,” he added, as he faced the boys.
“It’s all settled now,” said Dan quietly. “Everybody makes mistakes. I didn’t know what a butter-plate was for when I came.”
Walter’s face flushed at Dan’s words and his roommate hastily added, “Will you look after Carlton till I come back?”
“I don’t want anybody to look after me,” spoke up Carlton sturdily, “I’m all right.”
“Good for you, kid!” laughed Hodge. “We’ll make a man of you yet.”
“I’ll look after him, Dan, or do anything you want,” said Walter humbly.
“Don’t be too good, Walter,” laughed Ned, who was as rejoiced as his companions over what had been said. “There’s such a thing as being too good to be true, you know. Come on, Dan!”
When the two boys returned from the doctor’s office, both were astounded by the report of the doings of Gus Kiggins—a report which Walter and Carlton were waiting to give them.