THE RIOT CALL AND OTHER LITTLE THINGS
"To your seat, Mr. Bristow! You're acting like a rowdy!"
Principal Cantwell uttered the order sharply.
Fully half the student body had gathered in the big assembly room
at the High School. It was still five minutes before the opening
hour, and there had been a buzz of conversation through the room.
The principal's voice was so loud that it carried through the
room. Almost at once the buzz ceased as the students turned to
see what was happening. Bristow had been skylarking a bit.
Undoubtedly he had been more boisterous with one of the other
fellows in the assembly room than good taste sanctioned.
Just as naturally, however, Bristow resented the style of rebuke
from authority. The boy wheeled about, glaring at the principal.
"Go to your seat, sir!" thundered the principal, his face turning
ghastly white from his suppressed rage.
Bristow wheeled once more, in sullen silence, to go to his seat.
Certainly he did not move fast, but he was obeying.
"You mutinous young rascal, that won't do!" shot out from the
principal's lips. In another instant Mr. Cantwell was crossing
the floor rapidly toward the slow-moving offender.
"Get to your seat quickly, or go in pieces!" rasped out the angry
principal.
Seizing the boy from behind by both shoulders, Mr. Cantwell gave
him a violent push. Bristow tripped, falling across a desk and
cutting a gash in his forehead.
In an instant the boy was up and wheeled about, blood dripping
from the cut, but something worse flashing in his eyes.
The principal was at once terrified. He was not naturally courageous,
but he had a dangerous temper, and he now realized to what it
had brought him. Mr. Cantwell was trying to frame a lame apology
when an indignant voice cried out:
"_Coward_!"
His face livid, the principal turned.
"Who said that?" he demanded, at white heat.
"_I_ did!" admitted Purcell, promptly. Abner Cantwell sprang at
this second "offender." But Purcell threw himself quickly into
an attitude of defence.
"Keep your hands off of me, Mr. Cantwell, or I'll knock you down!"
"Good!"
"That's the talk!"
The excited High School boys came crowding about the principal
and Purcell. Bristow was swept back by the surging throng.
He had his handkerchief out, now, at his forehead.
"Some of you young men seize Purcell and march him to my private
office," commanded the principal, who had lacked the courage to
strike at the young fellow who stood waiting for him.
"Will you fight Purcell like a man, if we do?" asked another voice.
"Run Cantwell out! He isn't fit to be here!" yelled another voice.
Mr. Drake, the only submaster in the room at the time, was pushing
his way forward.
"Calmly, boys, calmly," called Drake. "Don't do anything you'll
be sorry for afterwards."
But those who were more hot headed were still pressing forward.
It looked as though they were trying to get close enough to lay
hands on the now trembling principal.
Under the circumstances, Mr. Cantwell did the very worst thing
he could have done. He pushed three or four boys aside and made
a break across the assembly room. Once out in the corridor, the
principal dove into his private office, turning the key after
him. Secure, now, and his anger once more boiling up, Mr. Cantwell
rang his telephone bell. Calling for the police station, he called
for Chief Coy and reported that mutiny and violence had broken
loose in the High School.
"That seems almost incredible," replied Chief Coy. "But I'll
come on the run with some of my men."
Several of the fellows made a move to follow the principal out
into the corridor. Dick Prescott swung the door shut and threw
himself against it. Dave Darrin and Tom Reade rushed to his support.
The other chums got to him as quickly as they could.
"Nothing rash, fellows!" urged Dick. "Remember, we don't make
the laws, or execute them. This business will be settled more
to our satisfaction if we don't put ourselves in the wrong."
"Pull that fellow Prescott away from the door!" called Fred Ripley,
anxious to start any kind of trouble against Dick & Co. Submaster
Drake, forcing his way through the throng, calming the hottest-headed
ones, turned an accusing look on Fred. The latter saw it and
slunk back into the crowd.
Bristow, still holding his handkerchief to his head, darted out
of the building.
Submaster Morton and Luce, bearing the excitement, came up from
class rooms on the ground floor. They entered by the same door
through which Bristow had left.
Over on the other side of the room, fearing that a violent riot
was about to start, some of the girls began to scream. The women
teachers present hurried among the girls, quieting them by reassuring
words.
"Now, young gentlemen," called Mr. Drake, "we'll consider all
this rumpus done with. Discipline reigns and Gridley's good name
must be preserved!"
This brought a cheer from many, for Mr. Drake was genuinely respected
by the boys as a good and fair-minded man. Such men as Drake,
Morton or Luce could lead these warm-hearted boys anywhere.
Stepping quickly back to the platform, Drake sounded the bell.
In an instant there was an orderly movement toward the desks.
At the second bell all were seated.
"In the absence of the principal," began Mr. Drake, "I-----"
A low-voiced laugh started in some quarters of the room.
"Silence!" insisted Mr. Drake, with dignity. "School has opened.
I-----"
He was interrupted by a new note. Out in the yard sounded the
clanging of a bell, the quick trot of horses' feet and the roll
of wheels. The boys looked at one another in unbelieving astonishment.
Then heavy steps sounded on the stairway. Outside Mr. Cantwell's
voice could be heard:
"I'll take you inside, chief!"
In came the principal, his face now white from dread of what he
had done, instead of showing the white-heat of passion. After
him came Chief Coy and three policemen in uniform.
For at least a full half minute Chief Coy stood glancing around the
room, where every student was in his seat and all was orderly.
The boys returned the chief's look with wondering eyes.
Then Mr. Coy spoke:
"Where's your riot, principal? Is this what you termed a mutiny?"
Mr. Cantwell, who had gone to his post behind the desk, appeared
to find difficulty in answering.
"Humph!" muttered the chief, and, turning, strode from the room.
His three policemen followed.
Then there came indeed an awkward silence.
Submaster Drake had abandoned the center of the stage to the principal.
Mr. Cantwell found himself at some loss for words. But at last
he began:
"Young ladies and young gentlemen, I cannot begin to tell you
how much I regret the occurrences of this morning. Discipline
is one of my greatest ideals, and this morning's mutiny-----"
He felt obliged to pause there, for an angry murmur started on
the boys' side, and traveled over to where the girls were seated:
"This morning's mutiny-----" began the principal again.
The murmur grew louder. Mr. Cantwell looked up, more of fear
than of anger in his eyes. Mr. Drake, who stood behind the principal,
held up one hand appealingly. It was that gesture which saved
the situation at that critical moment. The boys thought that
if silence would please Mr. Drake, then he might have it.
"Pardon me, sir," whispered Drake in Cantwell's ear. "I wouldn't
harp on the word mutiny, sir. Express your regret for the injury
unintentionally done Bristow."
Mr. Cantwell wheeled abruptly.
"Who is principal here, Mr. Drake?"
"You are, sir."
"Then be good enough to let me finish my remarks."
This dialogue was spoken in an undertone, but the students guessed
some inkling of its substance.
The submaster subsided, but Mr. Cantwell couldn't seem to remember,
just then, what he wanted to say. So he stood gazing about the
room. In doing this he caught sight of the face of Purcell.
"Mr. Purcell!" called the principal.
That young man rose, standing by his seat. "Mr. Purcell, you
made some threat to me a few minutes ago?"
"Yes, sir."
"What was that threat?"
"I told you that, if you laid hands on me, I'd floor you."
"Would you have done it?"
"At the time, yes, sir. Or I'd have tried to do so."
"That is all. The locker room monitor will go with you to the
basement. You may go for the day. When you come to-morrow morning,
I will let you know what I have decided in your case."
Submaster Drake bit his lips. This was not the way to deal with
a situation in which the principal had started the trouble. Mr.
Drake wouldn't have handled the situation in this way, nor would
Dr. Thornton, the former principal.
But Purcell, with cheerfulness murmured, "Very good, sir," and
left the room, while many approving glances followed him.
Messrs. Morton and Luce shuffled rather uneasily in their seats.
Mr. Cantwell began to gather an idea that he was making his own
bad matter worse, so he changed, making an address in which he
touched but lightly upon the incidents of the morning. He made
an urgent plea for discipline at all times, and tried to impress
upon the student body the need for absolute self-control.
In view of his own hasty temper that last part of the speech nearly
provoked an uproar of laughter. Only respect for Mr. Drake and
the other submasters prevented that. The women teachers, or
most of them, too, the boys were sure, sided with them secretly.
The first recitation period of the morning was going by rapidly,
but Mr. Cantwell didn't allow that to interfere with his remarks.
At last, however, he called for the belated singing. This was
in progress when the door opened. Mr. Eldridge, superintendent
of schools, entered, followed by Bristow's father. That latter
gentleman looked angry.
"Mr. Cantwell, can you spare us a few moments in your office?"
inquired Mr. Eldridge.
There was no way out of it. The principal left with them. In a
few minutes there was a call for Mr. Drake. Then two of the women
teachers were sent for. Finally, Dick Prescott and three or four
of the other boys were summoned. On the complaint of a very angry
parent Superintendent Eldridge was holding a very thorough
investigation. Many statements were asked for and listened to.
"I think we have heard enough, haven't we, Mr. Eldridge?" asked
the elder Bristow, at last. "Shall I state my view of the affair
now?"
"You may," nodded the superintendent.
"It is plain enough to me," snorted Mr. Bristow, "that this principal
hasn't self-control enough to be charged with teaching discipline
to a lot of spirited boys. His example is bad for them---continually
bad. However, that is for the Board of Education to determine.
My son will not come to school to-day, but he will attend to-morrow.
As the first step toward righting to-day's affair I shall expect
Mr. Cantwell to address, before the whole student body, an ample
and satisfactory apology to my son. I shall be present to hear
that apology myself."
"If it is offered," broke in Principal Cantwell, sardonically,
but Superintendent Eldridge held up a hand to check him.
"If you don't offer the apology, to-morrow morning, and do it
properly," retorted Mr. Bristow, "I shall go to my lawyer and
instruct him to get out a warrant charging you with felonious
assault. That is all I have to say, sir. Mr. Eldridge, I thank
you, sir, for your very prompt and kind help. Good morning, all!"
"At the close of the session the principal wishes to see Mr. Prescott,"
read Mr. Cantwell from the platform just before school was dismissed
that afternoon.
Dick waited in some curiosity.
"Mr. Prescott, you write for 'The Blade,' don't you?" asked Mr.
Cantwell.
"Sometimes, sir."
"Then, Mr. Prescott, please understand that I forbid you to write
anything for publication concerning this morning's happenings."
Dick remained silent.
"You will not, will you?"
"That, Mr. Cantwell, is a matter that seems to rest between the
editor and myself."
"But I have forbidden it," insisted the principal, in surprise.
"That is a matter, sir, about which you will have to see the editor.
Here at school, Mr. Cantwell, I am under your orders. At 'The
Blade' office I work under Mr. Pollock's instructions."
The principal looked as though he were going to grow angry. On
the whole, though, he felt that he had had enough of the consequences
of his own wrath for one day. So he swallowed hard and replied:
"Very good, then, Mr. Prescott. I shall hold you responsible
for anything you publish that I may consider harmful to me."
Dick did print an account of the trouble at school. He confined
himself to a statement of the facts that he had observed with
his own eyes. Editorially "The Blade" printed a comment to the
effect that such scenes would have been impossible under the
much-missed Dr. Thornton.
Mr. Cantwell didn't have anything disagreeable to say to Dick
Prescott the next morning. Purcell took up the burden of his
studies again without comment. The principal did apologize effectively
to young Bristow before the student body, while the elder Bristow
stood grimly by.