FACING SUSPENSION
From behind trees and other points of vantage, scores of eyes had
watched the headmaster, as, silent and with the gentle dignity that
endeared him to his students, he entered the school building, followed
by the unwilling Bart.
The town of Baxter would never have been distinguished from countless
other prosperous country villages had it not been for the High School.
And Mr. Vining's personality had made that institution what it was--the
best in the county.
Never for an instant did the headmaster forget that he had once been a
boy himself, wherefore he had been able to look with indulgence upon
the harmless pranks of the lads and girls under his charge. It had been
his good fortune to attract assistants who held the same general ideas,
and, as a result, the one hundred and twenty pupils in the school were
more like a big, happy family than anything else.
For the most part, the students lived in Baxter, but each year saw
more and more scholars come from other towns.
Due to his understanding of young people, Mr. Vining had established
the policy of allowing them to settle their differences themselves,
only interfering in cases of unusual seriousness.
But fighting in public was tabooed--and because they knew this, the
students had fled when his unheralded arrival had put a stop to the
quarrel between Fred and Bart.
No sooner had he disappeared within the building, however, than the
scholars emerged from their hiding places.
Swarming about Fred, they looked at him like one about to receive
condign punishment.
"You're a nice one, you are, to get Bart in trouble on the very first
day of school," came from the lad called Taffy.
"Then he shouldn't have said such things about my father," retorted
Fred.
"And he called you a puppy," chimed in another.
"It isn't a nice word, but it doesn't seem to me as mean as saying
such things about Mr. Markham," asserted the new Second Former to his
neighbor.
"It don't, eh?" ejaculated the other. "Well, it's a good deal worse.
'Puppy' is the fighting word at Baxter."
Fortunately for Bronson, his remark had not been heard by any except
the boy next him, or he would have been drawn into the wrangle which
was growing serious again as Taffy exclaimed:
"Fiddlesticks! I'll bet you saw the Head coming or you'd never dared to
face Bart. You know he can whip----"
"You know better than that, Taffy Brown," rejoined Fred, flushing at
the charge.
"Besides, Bart can't whip Fred," interposed Buttons.
"He can't, eh? Bart Montgomery can whip any boy in the Second Form, and
all but Sandow Hill in the First," returned Taffy.
"Guess again," derided several of Fred's followers.
"I'll go sodas for the entire Form that Fred can lick Bart!" Soda
exclaimed.
The size of the wager for a moment dampened Taffy's ardor, and he
growled:
"If Fred wanted to fight Bart, why didn't he wait till after school?"
"I'll tell you why, Taffy Brown," retorted Fred hotly. "I'm not going
to stand by and let any one make such a statement about my father, no
matter where it is or who is 'round."
These words, backed by the defiant determination expressed by Fred's
face and attitude, brought a cheer from his supporters, while Bart's
howled in derision.
"If you think I am afraid of Bart, I'll fool you!" exclaimed Fred,
flushing. "I'll meet him to-night at seven, at The Patch."
"And I'll wager sodas for the Second Form, girls barred, against
Taffy!" cried Soda.
"I'll just go you, but it's a shame to take your money, Soda. You'd
better have any one who believes in Fred chip in, so you won't have to
lose so much; sodas for ten Seconds will cost one dollar."
"Which you will have to pay," rejoined Fred's champion.
"Hooray! Here's Bart now!" shouted somebody who had seen the boy emerge
from the building.
Instantly all eyes were focused upon the tall form of the boy who had
just left the headmaster, while many were the surmises as to what had
transpired at the interview. As Bart drew near, the scholars noticed
that his swarthy face was flushed.
"I'll bet the Head gave him a fierce trimming," whispered Soda. But his
remark was lost in the babel of voices that demanded to know what Mr.
Vining had said.
Bart, however, was in no mood to gratify their curiosity, and, with
only unintelligible mumbles in response to the questions, stalked
moodily away among the trees, looking neither to the right nor to the
left.
"My eye! but the Head must have scorched him!" commented Buttons.
"Well, he ought to," asserted Soda.
"It was Bart's fault, anyway. He had no business to----"
The opinion was never expressed, however, for suddenly a voice called:
"Fred, why don't you come to me when I send for you?"
And turning toward the direction whence it came, the boys beheld the
headmaster standing on the porch of the building.
"I didn't know you had sent for me, Mr. Vining," responded Fred,
pushing aside his fellows. "I thought you did not want me for half an
hour."
"I asked Bart to tell you to come right in."
"I didn't hear him, sir. I am sorry."
"That shows just how white Fred is," declared Buttons vehemently. "He
wouldn't say Bart didn't tell him--just said he didn't hear him."
"And it shows how mean Bart is," added Soda.
Regardless of their support of the two leaders of the Second Form,
Baxter boys and girls were noted for their love of fair play, and this
exhibition of pettiness by Bart surprised them into silence, which
lasted until the headmaster and Fred were lost to sight within the
school building.
Mr. Vining's office was on the right of the hallway, near the entrance,
and although it was tastefully furnished, so intimately associated was
it with reprimands and explanations that none of the scholars ever
noticed how comfortable and attractive it was.
Pointing to a bench, the headmaster indicated to Fred to be seated,
and himself dropping into a Morris chair, he studied the boy's face a
moment before saying:
"Did I understand you to say that Bart did not tell you to come to me?"
"I said I did not hear him, sir."
"But you would have, had he done so?"
"The boys were calling out to him, so I couldn't hear very well."
"You're the same Fred, aren't you?" smiled Mr. Vining at the boy's
refusal to implicate one of his fellow students. "Now tell me how the
trouble started."
"I can't, sir!"
"Why?"
"Because I was not there when it began."
But Fred did not hesitate to describe his own actions.
"I'm sorry," commented the headmaster, when the recital was finished.
"I'm afraid you will be obliged to hear a good many unpleasant----"
"But my father is _not_ dishonest," interrupted Fred.
"It is natural for you to think so," returned Mr. Vining
noncommittally. "As I said when I came upon you and Bart, you Second
Form boys should set an example by obeying the rules. You know fighting
in front of the school is forbidden, don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then why were you going to?"
"Because I shall defend my father's name anywhere, Mr. Vining."
"H'm! Baxter rules are made to be obeyed, Fred. To prevent a recurrence
of this morning's scene, I must ask you to give me your word not to
fight with Bart."
"I can't, sir."
"Why?"
"Because when the boys said I only stood up against Bart after having
seen you coming----"
"Is that true?" interrupted Mr. Vining.
"No, sir. I was too busy watching Bart to see any one else."
"H'm. Go on."
"I said I would fight him to-night at seven."
Several minutes the headmaster gazed at the serious, manly face of the
boy before him, then said:
"If you fight, Fred, I shall suspend you. Now you may go."
[Illustration: IF YOU FIGHT, FRED, I SHALL SUSPEND YOU]