CHAPTER III
It was with lagging feet and heavy heart that Fred left the office of the headmaster.
Bart's aspersions on his father had hurt him deeply, and Mr. Vining's refusal to agree with his own opinion of his parent's honesty had surprised him. But the deepest cut of all was the threat to suspend him should he fight with Bart. If he obeyed the headmaster, he knew all too well that his fellow students—that is, all except Margie—would attribute his action to fear of Bart, and he was also familiar enough with the nature of his rival to realize he would lose no opportunity to twist events to his own advantage.
Such a combination of circumstances was enough to perplex an older head than Fred's, and as he descended the steps, he felt a keen resentment against the headmaster for placing him in such a position. It was with relief, however, that he saw Margie had drawn the other girls off to a spot where they would be out of earshot, for he dreaded their scrutiny more than the rough comments of his fellows.
"He looks as solemn as an owl," exclaimed Buttons, who with Soda and his other staunch supporters had been awaiting his coming.
"The Head must be in a fierce frame of mind to-day," commented another.
"No wonder, with Fred and Bart getting into a mix-up at the very opening of school," returned Soda.
"Well, let's show Fred we intend to stand by him," exclaimed Buttons.
This suggestion met with ready response, and, with a rush, Fred's adherents gathered about him.
"Get a trimming?" queried one of them.
"Worse than that," responded Fred soberly. "I can't defend my father and myself against Bart."
"Whe-ew! How Bart and his crowd will crow!" lamented Soda. And from the expressions on the faces of the others it was evident he had voiced their sentiments.
"But why can't you? What did the Head say?" demanded Buttons.
Eagerly the others looked toward Fred.
"I will be suspended if I fight."
"Jumping grasshoppers! but that is a bad one!"
It had been the proud boast of Baxter that never but once had a student been suspended, whereas in the rival school of Landon suspensions were of almost yearly occurrence. The boys grew silent in the contemplation of the penalty.
It was at this juncture that the First Form students, led by Sandow Hill, reached the steps. With the majority of them Fred was a favorite, and as they noticed the serious expressions on the faces of the Second Form boys, several of them asked:
"What's the trouble? Why so glum, Cotton-Top?"
"He and Bart had a row. The Head came along, and now he's threatened Fred with suspension if he fights Bart," poured forth Buttons, going into details in reply to further questioning.
"Fred ought to be thankful," exclaimed one of the girls. "That big bully would make mincemeat of him."
"You girls go along into school," snapped Sandow. Then, turning to Fred, he asked: "Was there any limit set to where you couldn't fight?"
"Why, no," returned the boy, puzzled by the question.
"Then cheer up," laughed the leader of the First Form. "So long as the Head didn't set any specific limit, you can have your go with Bart anywhere not on school grounds."
This solution of the problem elicited shouts of approval from Fred's followers, but the boy most concerned did not share in the glee.
"I don't think that would be honorable," he interposed. "Mr. Vining said he would suspend me if I mixed it up with Bart."
"But he can't control your actions off school grounds," asserted Hal Church, another First Former.
The tone in which the words were uttered, together with their implication that Fred was not any too anxious to meet his larger rival, produced just the effect Hal had intended.
"I told Mr. Vining I would defend my father's name anywhere," flashed back Fred. "And I will. What he said to Bart, I don't know. But if you can persuade Bart to be at The Patch at seven to-night, I'll show him I'm not afraid of him."
"If we canpersuadehim?" ejaculated Taffy, who had joined the group just in time to hear Fred's challenge. "Say, it's all Lefty and I could do to keep him from coming back to have it out with you right here now."
"Good. Then have your man ready at seven, Taffy. Buttons, you have Fred on hand. I'll referee the go. Mum's the word. I'll make life unhappy for the boy who carries word of this to the Head," declared Sandow.
"Don't worry about us," asserted Buttons, while Taffy sneered: "You'd better have a doctor handy—or an ambulance. Fred'll need 'em."
Just then the ringing of the bell, calling the scholars to the general assembly room, made the boys forget the quarrel, and, trooping into the building, they took the benches on the right side, while the girls sat on the left, all facing the platform where the Head and his three assistants were seated.
After a short prayer, Mr. Vining welcomed his former students back, and then dilated upon the ideals of Baxter, laying particular stress upon submission to rules. At this reference to obedience, the boys looked at Bart and Fred, and many a face broke into a grin.
"And now we will have the drawing of desks," announced the headmaster, concluding his words of advice, and reaching for a box, into which he dropped some square pieces of paper. "As you know, the First and Second Forms sit together in Room one, and the Third and Fourth Forms in Room two. The three back rows of desks belong to the First and Third Forms, respectively.
"First Form, come forward. The numbers on the cards indicate the desk you can call your own for this school year. Miss Ayres, you may draw first."
Quickly the girl stepped to the platform, thrust her hand into the box, drew out a piece of paper and handed it to the headmaster.
"You have drawn number three, Miss Ayres. Church, you are next."
Rapidly the First Form made their drawings, and then more slips were placed in the box for the Seconds.
"I think we might be allowed to select our own desks," grumbled Bart, and, as the possibility of the two rivals drawing adjacent desks was thus suggested, the others became all attention.
Though he gave no indication of the fact, the headmaster had overheard Bart's remark, and for that reason called Fred to make the first selection, announcing "seventeen" as he read the slip the youth handed him.
"That's the best desk in the Second Form section," whispered several of the boys, while Buttons and Soda patted their chum lovingly on the back when he returned to his seat between them.
As one name after another was called, Bart became more and more glum, his sober face evidencing that he felt slighted at being compelled to wait.
"There's Clothespin, the new boy," murmured Soda, as Bronson walked awkwardly forward. "Wouldn't it be rich if he drew a better desk than Bart?"
"Eighteen," announced Mr. Vining. And the allotment proceeded till only Bart was left.
Eagerly the students had listened as one number after another was called and such close attention did they pay that it was not necessary for them to hear the figure "thirty-three" read to know that the only desk remaining for Bart was in the front row.
"I won't sit there!" growled the rich lad, as the fateful number was announced. "If a newcomer can forcemeinto the front row, I'll do my studying at home."
"That is not the Baxter spirit, my boy," chided the headmaster. "You had an equal chance with the rest. Furthermore, it is very impolite to Mr. Bronson."
"I don't care. I won't sit way up front," retorted Bart, his ungovernable temper making him regardless of consequences.
This challenge of authority drove the kindly expression from Mr. Vining's face, and he cleared his voice to speak when Fred stood up, exclaiming:
"Montgomery can have my desk, andI'llsit up front."
"Thank you, Fred. Bart, because of Fred's sacrifice, you can have number seventeen. Bronson, I regret you should have suffered such rudeness at the hands of any Baxter boy."
This open rebuke to the haughty Bart delighted Fred's champions, and when the desks for the two other Forms had been assigned, they gloated over it as they filed outdoors.
In passing out it so happened that Fred and Bart were brought face to face.
"Grand-stand player!" hissed the bully.
"I don't play to grand stands, and you know it, Bart Montgomery. I was only thinking of the honor of Baxter," retaliated Fred.
"A Markham talking of honor," rejoined Bart.
Unknown to the boys, Mr. Vining had come up behind them, and, as he heard the bully's unkind words, he said:
"Fred, you may forget what I told you this morning."