"I do mean just that."
Drayton's fists doubled up threateningly, and he was about to assume a
fighting attitude, when he changed his plan, and tried to coax Joe.
"Oh come, Joe, you know better. You are only chaffing. I thought at
first that you were in earnest."
"You thought right then," added Joe dryly.
Drayton made no reply, but tried to stare indignantly at Joe.
The effort failed; his own eyes dropped before the steady, honest eyes
that looked him through.
"How do you know?--what made you think I did it?" added Drayton
hurriedly, fearing that he had admitted his guilt.
"I saw you burning paper in the garden last evening, and although I had
no idea then that you were up to mischief, I felt sure of it as soon as
I found the fellows all complaining about their books."
"Pooh! those were letters I was burning--some I didn't want to carry
home."
"They were not letters, they were book-leaves. I saw them plainly."
"Spy!" hissed Drayton furiously. "You hung around and watched."
"I did not. I was passing along that way because I left my geometry
under the big tree, and I had to finish my lesson before bedtime."
"Oh yes," sneered Drayton. "You had time to take special notice of the
size of the paper. You'd no business there; and I have a good mind to
thrash you within an inch of your life."
Joe laughed at this furious threat. "I didn't know you owned the
garden, or I would have kept out of it. As for thrashing, you know I
don't thrash easy, even by a boy of your size. You tried it once. If
you think it will help you out of your scrape, you can try it again."
Drayton looked amazed. Here was little Joe Chester not only defying
him, but actually laughing at his threat as if it were a joke.
"Well, I'll tell you what it is, Chester: if you breathe a word about
this I will have my revenge somehow."
Chester began to look fierce now himself. "Come, Drayton, you have
blustered and fumed long enough. You had better change your course. I
am not easily frightened."
Drayton had reached the same conclusion, and, changing his tone, said
almost pleadingly,--
"Chester, if I am found out in this I'll be sent home, and my father
would be awfully cut up if I had to leave this school. He is in a hurry
to get me into college, and this would put me back if I get expelled.
Don't you tell what you know, will you, Joe?" Then he added hurriedly,
"I was an idiot to do it! I knew it as soon as I tore out the first
leaf, which happened to be from Mr. Bernard's book. After that was gone,
I was in for the business, and I just rushed it through."
"What put such a silly joke into your head?" asked Joe, curious to have
that explained.
"Oh, Ben Carver and I planned it together. We thought it would be fun
to get up a fuss over the books; but Ben backed out."
"Then Ben Carver knows it too?" asked Joe, with a sigh of relief, as if
his burden were lightened by this assurance that some one else shared
the secret.
"Yes, Carver knows, but I can trust him. He will just as soon lie as
not, though he hadn't the pluck to carry out the plan. It all rests
with you, Chester: if you will stand by me I shall come through all
right."
"Well, Drayton, I'll do anything I can, except lie, for you. You
needn't ask that."
"What if Bernard asks if you know?"
"If he asks me that question plump and fair, I shall have to say yes."
Drayton looked frightened and pale.
"Then it is all up with me, for he _will_ ask as sure as fate."
"Now, Ralph, take my advice," said Joe, putting his arm over Drayton's
shoulder. "Go and tell Mr. Bernard the truth. It isn't too late.
Come; I will go with you."
The boy shook off Joe's arm, and said, "Nonsense, Joe; he might forgive
the mischief, but he never would overlook the lie. I would be expelled
at once. No, Joe, my only hope is in you. If you won't lie for me--"
"And you do not expect me to do that?" interrupted Joe proudly.
"No. I suppose you wouldn't lie to save yourself, and I can't expect
you to for me, but I hate to go home in disgrace. The fact is, though I
have been bragging around here, my father has pretty hard work to give
us boys an education. Oh, such an idiot as I was!"
"Well, Drayton, I am sorry for you. I really am; and you may depend on
me never to expose you. I'll let you do that yourself."
Drayton brightened up.
"Then you will keep mum?"
"Of course I will."
"Lie or no lie?"
"I didn't say that at all. If Mr. Bernard asks if I know, I shall be
obliged to say yes, but he can't make me tell who did it."
"Not if he should threaten to expel you?"
Joe hesitated for a moment, and then said, "He would hardly do that, but
if he should,--no, not even then."
"Joe Chester, you are a good fellow! Give us your hand! Now mum is the
word!"
*CHAPTER II.*
*A COSTLY "YES."*
It was near the close of the summer term, the end of the school-year,
and the boys were looking forward with brightest anticipations towards
the camping season. Provided their school reports had averaged well
throughout the year, the boys were given a fortnight of camp-life before
scattering to their several homes.
Sometimes they had gone to the mountains with their tents and
accoutrements for hunting and fishing; sometimes to Lake Myrtle; and
last year they had explored Barrimore river from the mouth to the
source.
This year Mr. Bernard had obtained permission to take his boys out to
Whaleback, an island containing about a hundred acres, uninhabited save
by the family of the lighthouse-keeper.
There they would be "monarchs of all they surveyed," and no one would be
disturbed by their noise--consequently no one to complain of "those
dreadful boys."
This excursion was the great treat of the year for the Academy boys, and
through the spring months it was the favourite theme for conversation.
Some ten or fifteen of the boys had forfeited their right to join the
excursion by bad conduct or incorrigible laziness with lessons; but
those who had reason to expect to go were already collecting and putting
in order fishing-tackle, guns, bows and arrows, and all the things that
boys consider essential to camp-life.
The rifle barrels were polished till they shone like steel mirrors; and
under the careful supervision of one of the teachers, the owners
practised with them two or three times a week.
The archery club had their targets set in the playground, and were in
daily practice, the members considering themselves rivals of the rifle
club.
Joe Chester was one of the most eager of all for the fun of camp-life,
and he, with some four or five other boys, had ordered a boat to be sent
to the landing where they were to take the steamer for the island.
Two or three other boats had also been engaged for the use of the
scholars--row-boats; for Mr. Bernard absolutely declined the
responsibility of sail-boats, even for those who were accustomed to
manage them.
During the forenoon following the summary dismissal of school, the boys
were anxiously discussing the probable effect of this mischief upon
their vacation trip; and, after all, their conjectures ended in a return
to the same question, "Who can the mean fellow be who made all this
trouble?"
In the midst of the discussion the great bell sounded, and the boys
returned to the school-room.
There were no laggards now; every boy was in his seat before the
desk-bell had been struck.
Mr. Bernard stood in the desk with his hand on the open ledger, while
the other teachers were seated near by.
The room was so still that a pin dropped would have sounded loud, and
the boys almost held their breath while they waited for Mr. Bernard to
speak.
He was evidently in no haste; lessons could wait. After a silence that
seemed very long to the boys, he began to speak.
It was a short, sharp lecture upon the meanness of falsehood and all
deceit, without a word in regard to the original trouble--the mutilation
of the books.
I think it doubtful if a lecturer ever before had so attentive and
awe-struck an audience. At the close he said, "Boys, I will call the
roll once more. Let each answer on his honour--if he have any
honour--whether he mutilated the books of the class in 'Anabasis.'"
Again from the beginning to the end of the roll the names were called,
and again every voice unhesitatingly answered, "No."
Joe Chester's face was crimson; he dared not look up.
Some of his school-mates noticed his confusion, and whispered to their
neighbours, "Look at little Joe! Do you suppose he did it after all?"
"Is it possible?" exclaimed Mr. Bernard in a despairing tone. "Have I
been harbouring a liar among my boys all the year?"
With a sigh he opened the book again, and said, "On your honour, boys,
answer me this question: Do you know who did the mischief? Although I
confess I almost forget _that_ in my regret that one of my boys has told
a direct lie."