The High School Pitcher | Page 7

thousand members of the
student body went off, full of glee, to spread the news of the joke. As
they hurried along many of the students noticed that Mrs. Cantwell was
standing not far from the gate and that, at her feet, lay her husband's
black satchel. Several of the students were quick to wonder what this
new phase of the matter meant.

After school was dismissed Fred Ripley remained behind, strapping
several books together. Then, as he passed the principal's desk, he
remarked:
"I suppose, Mr. Cantwell, that some of the students thought that a very
funny trick that was played on you this morning. While I am speaking
of it, I wish to assure you, sir, that I had no hand in the outrage."
"I am very glad to hear you say that, Mr. Ripley. Some day I hope I
shall have a notion who did originate the practical joke."
"I don't believe you would have to guess very long, sir," Ripley hinted.
"What do you mean?"
"Why, sir, whenever anything of that sort is hatched up in this school,
it's generally a pretty safe guess that Dick & Co. are at the bottom of it
all."
"Dick & Co.?" repeated Mr. Cantwell.
"Dick Prescott and his chums, sir," replied Ripley, rapidly naming the
five partners. Then, having accomplished what he wanted, Fred
sauntered out.
"I'll look into this further," thought Mr. Cantwell, angrily. "If I can
satisfy myself that Prescott was at the bottom of this wicked hoax then
I---I may find it possible to make him want to cut his High School
course short!"
Mrs. Cantwell was waiting at the gate.
"What on earth, Abner, did you mean by sending me this great cartload
of pennies?" demanded the principal's spouse. "Here I've taken it up to
the bank, and find they won't accept it---not in this form, anyway. Now,
I've carried it this far, Abner, and you may carry it the rest of the way
home."
"Why---er---er---" stammered the principal.

"Mr. Getchel brought the satchel to me, and told me it was money you
had sent me. But I want to say, Abner, that of all the-----"
At this moment the principal picked up the hateful satchel and the pair
passed out of hearing of four young freshmen who had hidden near to
learn what the mystery of the satchel meant. It was not long, either,
before the further joke had become known to a great many of the
students.

CHAPTER II
DICK TAKES UP HIS PEN
Dick had no sooner ventured out on the street after dinner than he
encountered the news of Mrs. Cantwell's meeting with her husband.
But Dick did not linger long to discuss the matter. His pockets now
contained, in place of pennies, a few banknotes and many dimes,
pennies and nickels, amounting in all to thirty-six dollars. He was
headed for "The Blade" office to settle with Mr. Pollock.
"I think I can tell you a little story now, that may be worth a paragraph
or two," Dick announced after he had counted out the money and had
turned it over to the editor.
"You played a little joke on your new and not wholly popular principal,
didn't you?" Mr. Pollock asked, his eyes twinkling.
"Yes; has the thing reached you already?"
"I don't know the whole story of the joke," Mr. Pollock replied, "but
perhaps I can tell you one side of it that you don't know."
Thereupon the editor described Mr. Cantwell's visit to the bank. "Now,
I've got a still further side to the story," Dick continued, and repeated
the story told by the freshmen of how Mrs. Cantwell also had carried
the money to the bank, and then, still carrying it, had waited for her

husband at the school gateway.
Editor Pollock leaned back, laughing until the tears rolled down his
cheeks.
"I'm sorry for the good lady's discomfiture," explained the editor,
presently. "But the whole story is very, very funny."
"Now, I guess you know all the facts," finished Dick Prescott, rising.
"Yes, but I haven't a single reporter about." Then, after a pause, "See
here, Prescott, why couldn't you write this up for me?"
"I?" repeated Dick, astonished. "I never wrote a line for publication in
my life."
"Everyone who does, has to make a start some time," replied Mr.
Pollock. "And I believe you could write it up all right, too. See here,
Prescott, just go over to that desk. There's a stack of copy paper there.
Write it briefly and crisply, and, for delicacy's sake, leave out all that
relates to Mrs. Cantwell. No use in dragging a woman into a hazing
scrape."
Dick went over to the desk, picking up a pen. For the fist three or four
minutes he sat staring at