Once in the open, Harper and the other freshman scurried away, their curiosity satisfied.  But, a moment later, when Mr. Cantwell looked out of the window, he was much surprised to see four members of Dick & Co. walking together, and almost out through the gate.

“Have they been within earshot—–­listening?” wondered the principal to himself, and jotted down the names of Darrin, Reade and Holmes.  The two freshmen, by their prompt departure had saved themselves from suspicion.

On Thursday nothing was said or done about Dick’s case.  When Friday’s session drew toward its close young Prescott fully expected to have sentence pronounced, or at least to be directed to remain after school.  But nothing of the sort happened.  Dick filed out at the week’s end with the rest.

“What do you imagine Prin. can be up to?” Dave Darrin asked, as Dick & Co. marched homeward that early Friday afternoon.

“I don’t know,” Dick confessed.  “It may be that Mr. Cantwell is just trying to keep me guessing.”

“If that’s his plan,” inquired Reade, “what are you going to do, old fellow?”

“Perhaps—–­just possibly—–­I shall fight back with the same weapon,” smiled Dick.

Mr. Cantwell had, in truth, formed his plan, or as much of it as he could form until he had found just how the land lay, and what would be safe.  His present berth, as principal of Gridley H.S., was a much better one than he had ever occupied before.  Mr. Cantwell cherished a hope of being able to keep the position for a good many years to come.  Yet this would depend on the attitude of the Board of Education.  In order not to take any step that would bring censure from the Board, Mr. Cantwell had decided to attend the Board’s next meeting on the following Monday evening, and lay the matter before the members confidentially.  If the Board so advised, Mr. Cantwell was personally quite satisfied with the idea of disciplining Dick by dropping him from the High School rolls.

“I’ll protect my dignity, at any cost,” Mr. Cantwell, murmured, eagerly to himself.  “After all, what is a High School principal, without dignity?”

Monday afternoon Dick Prescott stepped in at “The Blade” office.

“Got something for us again?” asked Mr. Pollock, looking around.

“Not quite yet,” Dick replied.  “I’ve come to make a suggestion.”

“Prescott, suggestions are the food of a newspaper editor.  Go ahead.”

“You don’t send a reporter to report the Board of Education meetings, do you?”

“No; those meetings are rarely newsy enough to be worth while.  I can’t afford to take up the evening of a salaried reporter in that way.  But Spencer generally drops around, at the time the Board is expected to adjourn, or else he telephones the clerk, from this office, and learns what has been done.  It’s mostly nothing, you know.”

“Spencer wouldn’t care if he didn’t have to report the Board meetings at all?”