REPORTS
Perhaps it was not the wisest course to have pursued, after all, on
the part of the prefect, to have allowed all the boys who were present
at the discovery of the theft to be absent for the whole day. Twelve
hours was ample time for a number of rumors to be born, grow strong,
and become, in the minds of some, established facts. There were,
unfortunately, all too many willing to believe, not maliciously but
thoughtlessly, the wildest and most absurd report. A few were anxious
to find something more than a mere misfortune in that which had
befallen the treasurer. These did not hesitate to sit in judgment on
their fellows, to discuss and impute intentions which with knowledge
any less than omniscient they could not possibly possess.
Almost as soon as the discovery had been made, the news spread like
wildfire through the yard. Excited boys gathered in groups and
discussed the situation. It was certainly the biggest sensation St.
Cuthbert's had witnessed in many a day--more exciting than the Deming
affair. The rumors were legion and as contradictory as numerous.
"Hi! Jones; have you heard the news?" asked Smithers, about half an
hour after the discovery.
"No. What?" asked Rob.
"Haven't heard of the robbery?"
"No. What robbery? No one has stolen our costumes, have they?"
Rob Jones was full of the play of the night before, and just at this
moment he considered the costumes, if not the most valuable, at least
the most attractive things for a thief to make away with.
"Costumes! Not much! It's cash. Hard-earned cash; at least cash
subscribed by other people. The delectable and very pious Henning has
managed to lose seventy-two dollars which the boys had already
subscribed for the cage."
"Managed to lose! I don't understand. Speak plainer."
"I mean, then, that Roy has lost that money and the report is that he
was robbed of it."
"You miserable cur!" said Rob Jones.
In a flash he saw Smithers' motive. There had evidently been a
robbery. No matter how, or when, or where, without knowledge of any
of the details whatever, Rob Jones was as sure as he was sure of his
own existence that Roy, big, generous, noble-hearted Roy, was
guiltless of the least shadow of complicity. As soon as he realized
that Smithers, in the mere telling of the event, was so coloring the
facts by innuendo and sneer that Roy's name would probably suffer,
Jones became furiously angry.
"You miserable cur!" he repeated, and made a spring for the other's
throat. Luckily the high collar he wore saved Smithers to some extent,
or he might carry to this day some ugly marks. Jones fairly shook him,
as a mastiff would shake a whelp.
"You cur! Is this the way you would blacken one's reputation! I tell
you Roy is innocent, and you shall apologize to him for your dastardly
insinuations. Come with me, come with me, I say," and he began to drag
the now frightened boy across the yard to where he thought Henning
was. Smithers, trembling, began to say something, but it was
unintelligible, which is very likely to be the case when another has
a strong hold on the speaker's throat.
"Hold on there, Jones. You can't find Henning. He's gone out. I saw
him and several others leave about half an hour ago," said John
Stockley. A crowd had now gathered about the two.
"A fight! a fight!" was the word that ran around the yard.
Rob Jones relaxed his hold, but did not release the boy. Holding his
fist close to his captive's face he said:
"Now take it back, or I'll thrash you till you can't see."
"Wha--what did I say?" asked Smithers.
"You know very well what you said. You said that the delectable and
pious Henning had managed to lose seventy-two dollars of the boys'
money. That's a lie. Take it back, or I'll----"
"It isn't a lie," whimpered the choking Smithers. "Didn't he have
charge of the money? And hasn't it been stolen?"
"But did he, as you say, manage to have it stolen? That is, is he
implicated in the theft, as you imply, or is he not? Speak out, man,
if you have a spark of honor in you. Speak out, or I'll thrash you if
I have to leave here to-morrow."
Generous Rob! There were few boys at the college at this time who knew
that this same Rob Jones once played the role which Smithers was so
unsuccessfully attempting. He had repented of that long ago, but never
had there come a time, for which he had often wished, when he could
safeguard another's reputation, as a species of reparation for the
damaging of Howard Hunter's in the long ago.
Irrespective of the idea that actuated him, Jones was quite convinced,
even without knowing the simplest details, that Roy Henning must be
free from all moral blame. Roy Henning was a boy whom Jones honored
and loved. All these circumstances must be considered when we pass
judgment on the vehement burst of passion which put young Smithers in
danger of strangulation. He muttered some kind of apology to the
absent Roy, and Jones with a positive grunt of disgust flung the
frightened boy as far as he could send him. He stumbled along for
several paces before regaining a steady footing. Mumbling something
inaudibly, he slunk away, but more than one of the students saw an
ugly, ominous look on his face as he went.
"I hear all sorts of reports," said Stockley; "tell us the true story,
somebody."
There was no lack of talkers, and almost as many theories. Few versions
of the affair agreed in substantials. In the course of the morning all
sorts of foolish rumors were flying around. One was, that Roy Henning
had been caught in the act of pocketing the money and had been instantly
expelled. In confirmation of this, the question was asked: "Where is he?
No one has seen him since the discovery!" Another busy rumor had it that
six boys were implicated and had been summarily dismissed.
"Did not the President see six boys off the premises this morning?"
was advanced as a reason for this wild guess. Robert Jones, the absent
boy's champion, happened to hear this last stupid remark.
"You set of babbling geese! You lot of old women! Here you go and
jabber away people's reputations as easily as--Oh! you make me sick!
Look here, you fellows, those six boys, and Henning among them, are
out for a day's holiday. I say the President would rather send home
six dozen dull-heads such as you fellows, than these six. They have
been given a privilege that you ninnies would never get if you were
here fifty years. Mark my words! To-morrow morning I shall call upon
some of you brainless gossips--some of you silly babblers--to repeat
before them what you have the impudence to say behind their backs."
In this manner Rob Jones did much to keep down the public excitement,
and to reduce all stupid talk to a minimum. Mr. Shalford, also, had
put something of a quietus on many senseless and ugly remarks which
some malicious or thoughtless boys had set afloat. While admitting
that the loss of the money was to be deplored, he did all in his power
to exonerate Henning.
"Although the loss is severe," he said, "yet after all no one
individually suffers much. It is true that, probably, we shall not be
able this winter to purchase the much-wished-for cage. Well, we have
never had one yet, and we can wait a little longer. The whole affair
might have worn a much worse aspect than it does. Suppose it had been
one of our own boys that had been guilty! I shudder to think of such a
thing! Now do not spread idle and useless conjectures as facts. We shall
endeavor strenuously to discover the thief, and until he is discovered
it were better to make no rash surmises. Especially must we refrain from
accusing any one of the crime until we have positive proof of his guilt,
and until he is discovered it were better and safer to make no surmises.
Some very stupid rumors have already reached me. Pray do not lose all
credit for common-sense. Let every boy act with moderation and justice.
No one has a right to constitute himself a judge of his fellows. If any
well-grounded suspicious circumstance comes to light, I am the one to be
consulted and no other."
With such sensible remarks, and Rob Jones' generous defense of his
absent friend, much of the excitement had died down before the return
of the six excursionists.
When they arrived, wrapped in buffalo robes and hoarse from singing on
the way, all the boys had assembled in the college theater to hear a
burnt-cork minstrel entertainment and to listen to the orchestra.
Supper was prepared for them in the infirmary, and they were told that
they might occupy beds there "for one night only" if they wished to
avail themselves of that privilege.
Thus it happened that Roy Henning and his friends met none of the boys
that night. They had no opportunity of judging the public pulse until
the next morning. Tired as Henning was from the exercise and the
strain and excitement of the day, he could not sleep. After tossing
from one side to the other for an hour he got up, and, throwing a
blanket around him, sat at the window and began to do the worst
possible thing under the circumstances. He began to think and brood.