The Safety First Club fights fire

Sam, having given his word to the club, duly presented himself at the principal’s office.

Though he had rehearsed carefully the little speech he intended to make, he found himself stammering, and hesitating, and, finally, blurting out a rather incoherent summary of his case.

“It was the way things worked, sir—made me seem to say what I didn’t mean to say. And it was the same with the Trojan—with Walker, that is. Both of us were tangled, and twisted—and—and——”

“Yes?” the principal encouraged.

“Well, and tricked,” said Sam.

The head of the school glanced at him sharply. “That’s an ugly word, Parker,” he said curtly.

Sam reddened, but held his ground. “I don’t mean that it was intended so, but it worked like a trick, sir. If the book had been shown to the Trojan right at the start, and he’d been asked if it was his, he’d have said it was and made no bones about it, even if he hadn’t a notion how you came to have it. But he was asked first where his Cicero was. Now, he hadn’t missed it, and supposed it was with the rest of his books, and——”

“You’re making a statement, Parker, that it might be difficult to prove.”

“I know that, sir. But I know, too, how it could happen that the Trojan didn’t miss his Cicero. There had been no Latin recitation for our class since the test; he had had no occasion to look for the book.”

“Yet we had your word for it, Parker, that he had it with him at the time of the examination.”

“No, sir—just before the time. That’s a big difference.”

“Admitted!” said the principal drily.

“Just outside the room I borrowed the Cicero for a moment. Then I gave it back—the Trojan wanted it. Then the bell rang and we left our books in the corridor.”

“Did Walker?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How can you be sure he did? Did you see him leave his text there?”

“I didn’t see him—at least, I didn’t notice. But he says he did, and I believe him.”

The principal was eyeing Sam keenly. There was a brief pause. Then said he:

“You’ve something to add? Go on!”

Sam summoned all his resolution. “I was talking about being tricked. I was caught, too, by the way the questions were put. Somehow, I seemed to be made to give the Trojan away. I hadn’t any notion of doing that, and there wasn’t any reason why I should, seeing that he hadn’t done anything wrong. But Mr. Bacon seemed to tangle both of us up. Do you remember, sir, how he didn’t go straight at the thing, but fussed around it, and—and——”

“I do remember,” said the principal, when Sam hesitated. There was something in his tone which reminded the boy of his curious doubt that the head of the school had really approved the course the inquisition took.

“Well, sir, in the end I appeared to have done the Trojan a lot of harm, and he’d harmed himself, and it was all a mix-up. That’s what I meant by the trick part.”

“I see,” said the principal. Again there was a pause.

“The Trojan is honest,” was the way Sam resumed the discussion.

“Parker, let me show you the other side of the case,” said the principal quietly. “For some time we have had reason to believe that there has been cheating in examinations, and have been keeping a close watch on all the classes. There is, as you know, a strict rule against taking text-books into rooms where examinations are held. In this case, after your class had taken Latin papers, a Cicero was found in one of the desks. We established, beyond doubt, that it was the desk Walker had used. There was evidence that the book was his. When he was questioned, opportunity was given him to make confession——”

“But that was prejudging him guilty, sir!”

The principal coughed. “I get your point, Parker, but must remind you that we are interested rather in maintaining discipline and doing essential justice, than in following rules of court procedure. Walker’s course was unfortunate. It certainly did not serve to lessen the strong presumption of his guilt.”

“But what was I brought in for?”

“To assist in establishing all available facts. And you furnished some information, which surely bore directly upon the question at issue.”

“I know—it seemed to,” Sam admitted dismally. “That’s the hardest part, so far as I’m concerned.”

“I understand your position,” the principal told him, not unkindly.

Sam took thought for a moment. “Well, sir, there’s another side to the case—what’s the Trojan to do, that is. And—and—was he given a mark on that Latin paper?”

“A mark of zero.”

“Afterward—yes. But was there a mark to begin with?”

“Yes,” said the principal. He opened his desk, took out three or four sheets of paper, closely written in a hand Sam recognized as the Trojan’s. “All the papers were marked at once, as it happened. Walker was given an eighty-two. That was canceled, of course, after the investigation, and is out of the reckoning.”

“I don’t think it should be, sir,” Sam argued. “It’s important. If the Trojan had been doing any crooked work, he’d have turned in a better paper. He usually has had eighty-five or more in examinations.”

The principal consulted a record-book.

“Quite true,” he admitted. “Let’s see! Here’s an eighty-seven—that was a test; he fell just under eighty-five in the next one, but picked up again at mid-year’s. Then I find an eighty-six and next an eighty-seven.”

“All higher than eighty-two,” Sam pointed out.

“Granted. I can’t grant, though, direct application to the main question before us.”

“Which is that you think the Trojan lied?” Sam asked bluntly.

“That is certainly the most serious aspect of the case.”

Sam reflected swiftly. “Well, sir,” he said, “I’m sure he didn’t lie, and I believe some day we can prove he didn’t. But, meanwhile, we’ve got to figure on what he can do. That zero will smash his term-stand. As he isn’t to be allowed to recite with the class in Latin, he’ll have no chance to pull it up; so, even if he came in for the final and did mighty well, he’d probably be flunked.”

“It might be.”

“Well, I—we—his friends, I mean—don’t want to have him flunked. We’d do anything to prevent it. And that brings me to something we’d like to have arranged and understood. If the Trojan keeps up in his Latin by outside work, and this—this other thing is cleared up, and he passes the final, what can be done about his term marks?”

It was plain that the principal, if not persuaded of the Trojan’s innocence, was impressed by Sam’s earnestness.

“If your hopes can be realized, Parker, and if we can be shown that Walker is a victim of circumstances—I warn you, it’s a difficult task you appear to have set yourself—if you can clear his record, you can depend upon me to give him fair play.”

“Then you’ll fix the term-stand part of it?” Sam insisted.

“Yes—on condition the other requirement is met.”

“That we prove he didn’t take the Cicero into the room, and supposed the book was with the rest of his lot?”

The principal smiled. “Proof of the second proposition, Parker, might be beyond even the efforts of the strongest friendship. I fear evidence of his mental processes cannot be secured. But if you can establish the fact that he did not have his text with him that day, while he was working on his paper, it will be quite enough. Convince me of so much, and you’ll have no cause to complain—nor will he.”

“Hurrah!” cried Sam, delightedly.

There might have been doubt in the principal’s expression, but there was surely a trace of sympathy.

“Parker, I wish you success in your efforts, though I am not oversanguine. But you can be assured of this: if we are in error in punishing Walker, we’ll make every effort to make amends.”

“I understand, sir. And all we want is a square deal.”

“Precisely,” said the principal, and there was the suspicion of a twinkle in his eye. “Precisely. The trouble, though, is that on the face of the returns, that is just what Walker is getting now.”

“Then we’ll change the returns!” Sam declared valiantly.

“’Pon my word, Parker, I shall be very glad to see you do it—if you can!” said the head of the school.