A THUNDERBOLT IN THE SCHOOL
“Let me see the envelope, Ralph,” Frank said, soothingly.
“Here it is, and it comes from your uncle’s office, as before.”
“That’s a fact, and I’m going to ask Uncle Jim again to tell us what
he knows of this queer arrangement. Somebody wants you to get an
education, and takes this strange way of supplying the money. It’s been
coming ever since last summer, hasn’t it, Ralph?”
“Yes. And you know that Mr. and Mrs. West, whom I always believed to
be my parents, until lately, admitted that I was only adopted by them,
taken from the poorhouse. Then there was that poor Ben Davis. It looked
to me that he might be the one; but we saw him before he died, and he
denied that he knew anything about me. Oh, this is a terrible fix for a
fellow to be in!”
“Cheer up, old chap. Come around to-night, and I’ll get father to take
a hand in the game. Perhaps he can induce Uncle Jim to explain who
sends this money on the sly through him. He said he had promised not
to tell, but dad may influence him some way. I wouldn’t say anything
more about it now. The fellows are looking over this way, as though
wondering.”
So Ralph tried to change his look of anxiety and gloom to one that
corresponded more nearly with the uproarious delight that caused the
others to break out in almost continuous cheering under the inspiring
influence of Herman Hooker.
That energetic individual was as hoarse as a crow by this time,
however, and had to give a rest to the “best yelling voice that
Columbia ever knew,” taking it out in gestures that were almost tragic.
And so in the evening of that never-to-be-forgotten day they arrived
home, to find the town gaily decked in bunting, and crowds of students
parading the streets cheering and singing.
Columbia promised to be painted red that night of the great victory
over the strong Bellport team. Even the girls joined in the cheering
and singing; while an old cannon was made to do duty on the green, with
a salute to the boys who had carried the colors of Columbia High to
victory that day.
One returning pilgrim saw nothing to boast about in the snatching of
this close game from Bellport. That was Lef Seller. All the way back
he had been in more or less of a wordy war with various enthusiastic
rooters on the trolley, and his remarks had been of a nature that
almost caused him to be tossed overboard.
“His father may own this road, but that doesn’t excuse him for running
down his own school!” declared one of the old graduates of Columbia
High, in disgust.
Lef was in a very bitter frame of mind. To see Frank come out a winner
was like gall and wormwood to his envious spirit. He racked his brain,
with the idea of finding some way of “pulling that climbing duck down a
peg,” as he muttered to himself.
As a rule, when Lef Seller set about discovering some means of playing
a “trick,” as he called it, upon a school mate, he usually managed to
get there, even though the gun he held sometimes kicked worse at the
butt than it did damage from the muzzle.
“Be sure and come around after supper, Ralph. I’d ask you to go home
with me now, but I know you want to wash up and get into some other
duds. I’ll look for you,” remarked Frank, as the crowd went ashore and
walked into the town.
“I’ll be there. This matter is a mighty serious one with me, and if
your father will only give me a little help I’d be obliged,” and Ralph
shook the hand of his friend warmly.
“Poor chap,” said Frank to himself, as he walked away and cast a glance
over his shoulder to note that the other had dropped his chin upon his
breast as though lost in sad thought. “It must be a nightmare of a time
not to know who you are. And then there’s this money that comes every
month from some unknown source. Whoever can it be sending it? Uncle Jim
_must_ tell, that’s all there is to it.”
Uncle Jim meant Judge James Decatur Allen, away down in New York. Frank
had already appealed to him, but the lawyer in reply had said he did
not feel able to explain the mystery, since he had given his word to
his unknown client.
That night there was a council of war. Mr. Allen heard the whole story,
and was deeply interested in the fortunes of poor Ralph.
“I’ll write to Jim to-morrow, and explain things. No matter if he has
promised, he ought to take pity on you, Ralph, and give you a hint. If
you knew it wasn’t your relatives who were sending this money, your
mind would be at ease, I suppose?” was what the gentleman had said.
“I might refuse to accept another cent of it in that case,” replied
Ralph, sturdily.
“While I can understand how you feel about that, let me caution you
to go slow about looking a gift horse in the mouth. An education is
priceless, and even if the money came from some distasteful source, you
could still receive it and make up your mind to positively return it
some day.”
“Thank you, sir; that is what I meant to do, anyway,” said Ralph.
“Meanwhile say nothing about this. When I hear from Jim I’ll have
another talk with you. Perhaps he may see fit to confide enough to me
so that I can at least ease your mind. And, Ralph, consider that this
is something of a second home to you. We have all grown to like you
very much, my lad.”
Ralph could not reply, for he seemed too full of sentiment for
utterance; but he squeezed the hand Mr. Allen gave him, and his look
was eloquent enough.
On the following week there was little talked of at school but that
wonderful game at Bellport. The next one, on the following Saturday,
would be played on the Columbia grounds; and the third as dictated by
fortune in the way of a tossed coin.
Lef Seller was green with envy at the praise he heard concerning the
masterly way Frank had pitched.
“Just as if nobody ever won a game before. Huh! there are half a dozen
to my credit, and some of ’em as hot as that one. But did you ever hear
of the old school going crazy over my work. I guess not! But that
Allen--oh, splash! I get sick hearing the mention of his name!”
That was the way he talked to his two cronies. Bill Klemm and Tony
Gilpin, after school was out, about the middle of the week.
Lef was sure of sympathy in this quarter, and it did much to bolster up
his resolution to get even with Frank, no matter what happened.
“Course you couldn’t ’spect to be looked at in the light of a hero.
It’s only the fellers what strut around and try to look like tin gods
on wheels that gets the ribbons. Look at them gals talking to him now.
He ain’t any better lookin’ than you, Lef, but he’s just got Minnie
dead struck after him,” remarked Tony, with his usual disregard for all
the rules of grammar.
“Aw, let up on that, won’t you? Want to rub salt in a feller’s cuts, I
guess. Don’t I see it all, and ain’t I just boiling with madness. She
used to think somethin’ of me before she got going with that conceited
little Helen Allen, and Frank, he butted in. I never will forgive him
for that, and it won’t be long before he’ll get his, all right!” and
Lef nodded his head as he spoke, in a suggestive way those cronies of
his understood meant fight.
But the tactics of Lef were never along that order which brought about
an open rupture. Fight he would, if he could get the object of his
hatred alone, and have backing of his own, so that the odds were three
to one; but Lef had too much respect for the strong muscles and agility
of Columbia’s crack athlete to risk a solitary meeting with him.
No matter what he had in his mind he would not confide in either of the
others. When they asked him he simply put his tongue in his cheek and
grinned, which signs they understood meant trouble for Frank Allen.
On Thursday morning, after the exercises in the assembly hall, the
principal of the school, instead of dismissing the various classes
to their rooms, asked them to remain, as he had a communication of
importance which he wished to make.
Expectation was on tiptoe immediately.
Crafty Tony Gilpin, stealing a side look over toward Lef, caught a
fleeting glow of expectancy in his eyes, while his manner of leaning
forward indicated that he might know what was coming.
“He’s gone and done it!” was Tony’s prompt inward declaration, and
immediately his admiration for his chief was increased tenfold.
Every eye was fastened upon Professor Parke as he stood up facing them.
The ordinarily genial teacher looked very sober, and this fact caused
many a heart to beat with apprehension, as various lads imagined that
some prank in which they were concerned had been found out, and public
disgrace was to follow.
“Young ladies and gentlemen,” began the professor, who was always in
the habit of addressing the students in this dignified way, just as
though his training as a college man would allow of nothing else, “I
have a very painful duty to perform this morning, and one I never
thought would devolve upon me here at Columbia, though I have heard of
it happening elsewhere.”
You could have heard a pin drop as he stopped for a moment. Two hundred
and fifty hearts were thrilled by his words. Every one present, save,
possibly, one, wondered what it could be the professor was about to
say. Tony was still shooting those fugitive glances across the room,
and each time he observed the actions of his comrade he kept repeating
to himself:
“Lef knows! He’s in this game, all right. He said he’d do _something_,
and I just reckon he has, all right. Bully for Lef!”
The professor spoke again, and his voice carried to the furthest point
in that large room, so that every one could hear what he said.
“I repeat that I have had a shock. I did not believe there could be a
student under my charge so dishonorable as to attempt anything so small
and mean as this seems. And I am sure that every one here, save the
miscreant who is guilty, will agree with me in saying that, when you
hear how he planned to take advantage of the rest of you.”
Lef was licking his lips now, and trying hard to hide the grin that
seemed to want to creep over his face. He had all the appearance of
one who was enjoying a delightful treat, and yet who, for diplomatic
reasons, did not want other eyes to note the fact.
“Yesterday afternoon,” continued the Head, slowly, while his eyes roved
around the room, “I received the first batch of examination papers from
the printers, far in advance of the usual time. I counted them three
times, and marked the number on a slip, so that I could always be sure
none were missing.”
A half suppressed sigh seemed to pass over the room. Most of the
students could begin to guess at what was coming. They understood now
what the professor intended to convey when he spoke of every one being
cheated by the work of the malefactor.
“Something called me away just then, and I did a very unwise
thing--thrust the packet of papers into my desk, and left the latter
open; but I never dreamed that any one in this school could be guilty
of stealing the questions that mean the promotion of the juniors in
this year’s classes.
“I was away about half an hour. Upon returning, something seemed to
tell me that my desk had been entered, since things were plainly
disturbed. And when I recounted the packet _I found just one paper
short_!”
Again he paused, and the entire assemblage seemed to catch its breath,
waiting.
“When I had made sure that one of the papers was gone, my pleasure over
the fine showing of Columbia in the week just passed fled. I knew that
unless that stolen paper were found, the entire batch would have to be
destroyed, for fear lest it be passed around, and make our examination
a mockery.
“This morning I received a singular communication from an unknown
party, who claims that he dares not sign his name, because it would
make him enemies; but he affirms that he saw a certain student coming
out of the office during yesterday afternoon, and that following him
up, he discovered him looking at a piece of paper which seemed to him
to be a set of questions used in our yearly examinations.
“As a rule, I seldom take any notice of anonymous communications, but
in this case I feel it a duty I owe the entire junior class to do
everything in my power to discover the guilty one. The name mentioned
in this communication was one that stunned me; but since it has been
brought before my attention, there seems to be nothing for me to do
but request the person in question to plead guilty or innocent.”
Then he swept his eyes around, while many a lad shivered in mortal
fear, until finally, they came to a pause, and the professor exclaimed:
“Frank Allen, come forward, please!”