FRED'S SACRIFICE
It was with lagging feet and heavy heart that Fred left the office of
the headmaster.
Bart's aspersions on his father had hurt him deeply, and Mr. Vining's
refusal to agree with his own opinion of his parent's honesty had
surprised him. But the deepest cut of all was the threat to suspend him
should he fight with Bart. If he obeyed the headmaster, he knew all
too well that his fellow students--that is, all except Margie--would
attribute his action to fear of Bart, and he was also familiar enough
with the nature of his rival to realize he would lose no opportunity to
twist events to his own advantage.
Such a combination of circumstances was enough to perplex an older head
than Fred's, and as he descended the steps, he felt a keen resentment
against the headmaster for placing him in such a position. It was with
relief, however, that he saw Margie had drawn the other girls off to a
spot where they would be out of earshot, for he dreaded their scrutiny
more than the rough comments of his fellows.
"He looks as solemn as an owl," exclaimed Buttons, who with Soda and
his other staunch supporters had been awaiting his coming.
"The Head must be in a fierce frame of mind to-day," commented another.
"No wonder, with Fred and Bart getting into a mix-up at the very
opening of school," returned Soda.
"Well, let's show Fred we intend to stand by him," exclaimed Buttons.
This suggestion met with ready response, and, with a rush, Fred's
adherents gathered about him.
"Get a trimming?" queried one of them.
"Worse than that," responded Fred soberly. "I can't defend my father
and myself against Bart."
"Whe-ew! How Bart and his crowd will crow!" lamented Soda. And from the
expressions on the faces of the others it was evident he had voiced
their sentiments.
"But why can't you? What did the Head say?" demanded Buttons.
Eagerly the others looked toward Fred.
"I will be suspended if I fight."
"Jumping grasshoppers! but that is a bad one!"
It had been the proud boast of Baxter that never but once had
a student been suspended, whereas in the rival school of Landon
suspensions were of almost yearly occurrence. The boys grew silent in
the contemplation of the penalty.
It was at this juncture that the First Form students, led by Sandow
Hill, reached the steps. With the majority of them Fred was a favorite,
and as they noticed the serious expressions on the faces of the Second
Form boys, several of them asked:
"What's the trouble? Why so glum, Cotton-Top?"
"He and Bart had a row. The Head came along, and now he's threatened
Fred with suspension if he fights Bart," poured forth Buttons, going
into details in reply to further questioning.
"Fred ought to be thankful," exclaimed one of the girls. "That big
bully would make mincemeat of him."
"You girls go along into school," snapped Sandow. Then, turning to
Fred, he asked: "Was there any limit set to where you couldn't fight?"
"Why, no," returned the boy, puzzled by the question.
"Then cheer up," laughed the leader of the First Form. "So long as the
Head didn't set any specific limit, you can have your go with Bart
anywhere not on school grounds."
This solution of the problem elicited shouts of approval from Fred's
followers, but the boy most concerned did not share in the glee.
"I don't think that would be honorable," he interposed. "Mr. Vining
said he would suspend me if I mixed it up with Bart."
"But he can't control your actions off school grounds," asserted Hal
Church, another First Former.
The tone in which the words were uttered, together with their
implication that Fred was not any too anxious to meet his larger rival,
produced just the effect Hal had intended.
"I told Mr. Vining I would defend my father's name anywhere," flashed
back Fred. "And I will. What he said to Bart, I don't know. But if you
can persuade Bart to be at The Patch at seven to-night, I'll show him
I'm not afraid of him."
"If we can _persuade_ him?" ejaculated Taffy, who had joined the group
just in time to hear Fred's challenge. "Say, it's all Lefty and I could
do to keep him from coming back to have it out with you right here now."
"Good. Then have your man ready at seven, Taffy. Buttons, you have Fred
on hand. I'll referee the go. Mum's the word. I'll make life unhappy
for the boy who carries word of this to the Head," declared Sandow.
"Don't worry about us," asserted Buttons, while Taffy sneered: "You'd
better have a doctor handy--or an ambulance. Fred'll need 'em."
Just then the ringing of the bell, calling the scholars to the general
assembly room, made the boys forget the quarrel, and, trooping into
the building, they took the benches on the right side, while the girls
sat on the left, all facing the platform where the Head and his three
assistants were seated.
After a short prayer, Mr. Vining welcomed his former students back, and
then dilated upon the ideals of Baxter, laying particular stress upon
submission to rules. At this reference to obedience, the boys looked at
Bart and Fred, and many a face broke into a grin.
"And now we will have the drawing of desks," announced the headmaster,
concluding his words of advice, and reaching for a box, into which he
dropped some square pieces of paper. "As you know, the First and Second
Forms sit together in Room one, and the Third and Fourth Forms in Room
two. The three back rows of desks belong to the First and Third Forms,
respectively.
"First Form, come forward. The numbers on the cards indicate the desk
you can call your own for this school year. Miss Ayres, you may draw
first."
Quickly the girl stepped to the platform, thrust her hand into the
box, drew out a piece of paper and handed it to the headmaster.
"You have drawn number three, Miss Ayres. Church, you are next."
Rapidly the First Form made their drawings, and then more slips were
placed in the box for the Seconds.
"I think we might be allowed to select our own desks," grumbled Bart,
and, as the possibility of the two rivals drawing adjacent desks was
thus suggested, the others became all attention.
Though he gave no indication of the fact, the headmaster had overheard
Bart's remark, and for that reason called Fred to make the first
selection, announcing "seventeen" as he read the slip the youth handed
him.
"That's the best desk in the Second Form section," whispered several of
the boys, while Buttons and Soda patted their chum lovingly on the back
when he returned to his seat between them.
As one name after another was called, Bart became more and more glum,
his sober face evidencing that he felt slighted at being compelled to
wait.
"There's Clothespin, the new boy," murmured Soda, as Bronson walked
awkwardly forward. "Wouldn't it be rich if he drew a better desk than
Bart?"
"Eighteen," announced Mr. Vining. And the allotment proceeded till only
Bart was left.
Eagerly the students had listened as one number after another was
called and such close attention did they pay that it was not necessary
for them to hear the figure "thirty-three" read to know that the only
desk remaining for Bart was in the front row.
"I won't sit there!" growled the rich lad, as the fateful number was
announced. "If a newcomer can force _me_ into the front row, I'll do my
studying at home."
"That is not the Baxter spirit, my boy," chided the headmaster. "You
had an equal chance with the rest. Furthermore, it is very impolite to
Mr. Bronson."
"I don't care. I won't sit way up front," retorted Bart, his
ungovernable temper making him regardless of consequences.
This challenge of authority drove the kindly expression from Mr.
Vining's face, and he cleared his voice to speak when Fred stood up,
exclaiming:
"Montgomery can have my desk, and _I'll_ sit up front."
"Thank you, Fred. Bart, because of Fred's sacrifice, you can have
number seventeen. Bronson, I regret you should have suffered such
rudeness at the hands of any Baxter boy."
This open rebuke to the haughty Bart delighted Fred's champions, and
when the desks for the two other Forms had been assigned, they gloated
over it as they filed outdoors.
In passing out it so happened that Fred and Bart were brought face to
face.
"Grand-stand player!" hissed the bully.
"I don't play to grand stands, and you know it, Bart Montgomery. I was
only thinking of the honor of Baxter," retaliated Fred.
"A Markham talking of honor," rejoined Bart.
Unknown to the boys, Mr. Vining had come up behind them, and, as he
heard the bully's unkind words, he said:
"Fred, you may forget what I told you this morning."