Dick Randall, the Young Athlete by William Osborn Stoddard

  CHAPTER VI

  A QUESTION OF RIGHT AND WRONG

  An air of gloom hung over the breakfast-room. Search as one might, upand down the long tables, it would have been hard to find one smilingcountenance. Most of the boys were eating absent-mindedly, as if theyhad small relish for their food; their foreheads were wrinkled andknotted, as if their thoughts were far away. To any one at allacquainted with school affairs, the trouble was not far to seek. Thefirst day of the mid tear examinations was at hand.

  Of all these troubled faces, perhaps Dave Ellis' was the most moodyand depressed. English Thirteen--how he dreaded it! He had sat upalmost all night, in defiance of the rules, stealthily flashing anelectric bull's-eye on his notes, and now, with aching head and jadednerves, he was paying the penalty. His brain was in confusion. Namesof books and authors sang themselves over and over in his mind. Now anabsurd, annoying jingle, "Fielding, Smollett, _Rich_ardson; FieldingSmollett, _Rich_ardson;" and then, no sooner had he managed to stopthe monotonous refrain than off it went again, "Dickens, Trollope,_Thack_eray; Dickens, Trollope, _Thack_eray." He groaned, turneddesperately to his cup of coffee, gulped down half of it at once,scalded himself, and then--it was all of no avail--the tune began oncemore. Suddenly, and without warning, he thought of another name, andto his horror, everything connected with it had gone wholly from hismind. He glanced despairingly across the table at Allen. "Harry," hecried, "for goodness' sake, what school did Jane Austen belong to? Andwhat did she write?"

  Allen gazed gravely back at him. "Jane Austen?" he repeated. "Why, shewas the head of the Romantic school. She wrote _The Maniac's Deed_,and _Tracked to his Doom_, and _The Bandit's Revenge_. She's beencalled the founder of the Modern Romance--Old Sleuth, you know, andNick Carter--"

  Ellis had sat listening, his mouth a little open, his eyes troubled,his whole expression a study in amazed bewilderment. Two or three ofthe boys snickered, and at once he came to his senses. "Oh, shut up,Harry," he cried, "that's an awfully dirty trick--to jolly a fellowthat way. If you felt as rotten as I do--"

  Allen relented. "Well, excuse me, Dave," he said, "but you know whatshe wrote, just as well as I do, if you'd only stop to think. She wasthe great realist. _Pride and Prejudice_, _Sense and Sensibility_, allthat list."

  Ellis' face cleared. "Oh, yes," he said hastily, "of course._Mansfield Park_, _Emma_, and some kind of an Abbey; I've got 'em allin my notes. But what if it had come on the exam? I never would haveremembered it in the world. Confound English Thirteen. I'm going toflunk; I know I am."

  With a sigh he returned to his half-finished breakfast. Then, lookingaround him, "Pass the salt, Randall," he said, none too pleasantly.

  On Dick, himself in none too amiable a frame of mind, the tone jarred.He paused, his hand on the salt-cellar. "Did I hear you say 'please?'"he questioned.

  Ellis' face flushed. "Oh, don't be a fool," he cried, "if you had thethings to bother you that I have, you wouldn't be so particular.Please--please--please--as many times as you like, only pass it,anyway."

  Dick complied. "Well, you needn't make such a row about your hardtimes," he retorted. "I can't see that you're any worse off than anyone else. These confounded mid-years. They put us all in the sameboat."

  Ellis scowled. "Oh, you don't know everything," he grumbled. "I guessif you--"

  He pulled himself up sharply, and went on with his breakfast. Fiveminutes later, as they filed out of the hall, Allen drew Dick to oneside. "Say," he whispered, "what's our friend Dave got on his mind?He's awfully down in the mouth lately. Has he ever tried to borrow anymoney of you?"

  Dick looked at his friend in some surprise. "Why, yes," he answeredrather unwillingly, "he has. I told him I was sorry, but I didn't haveany I could spare. Why, has he tried you, too?"

  Allen nodded. "Sure," he answered briefly, "and Steve Lindsay, and NedBrewster. I guess that's where the trouble is. He must be in some sortof a money scrape, and that and the mid-years together have got himfeeling pretty blue. Anyway, it looks like that to me."

  Half an hour later the unfortunates who took English Thirteenassembled in the upper hall. It was Dick's first examination ofimportance since he had been in the school, and he felt extremelynervous. His mouth was dry; his heart was pounding against his ribs.To divert his mind he looked around the room to see where his friendswere seated. Brewster and Putnam were far away, across the room.Lindsay was three seats to his right. Dave Ellis was in the next seat,on his left, and Allen was stationed directly behind Ellis.

  The nine o'clock bell rang, and Mr. Fenton mounted the platform. "Now,boys," he said cheerfully, "just a word, before we begin. This paper,for the period which it covers, is fully as hard as the average of thecollege entrance examinations. Yet, as a test, it is a perfectly fairone, in every way; an honest attempt to find out how much you know ofthe course. There are no catch questions, or anything of that sort. Sogo to work in good earnest. Read the paper through from beginning toend before you touch pencil to paper; don't lose your heads; take yourtime in thinking out your answers. And if there are questions whichyou _can't_ answer, they will at least show you where your weak pointsare, before the final examinations next spring."

  A minute later, the last paper had been distributed. Dick read thequestions through, slowly and deliberately, as the master hadsuggested, and then drew a long breath of relief. It was a "fair"paper, as Mr. Fenton had said; none too easy, but to a boy who hadtaken an interest in the course, and had kept up with references andoutside reading, one almost certain to be passed, and to be attackedwith real interest and enthusiasm. Allen and he had prepared for theexamination together, and Dick saw more than one question where hisclassmate's devotion to his "old poets," as Jim Putnam called them,was now to serve him in good stead. For the better part of an hour, hewrote steadily; and then, with the easier questions out of the way,used greater deliberation in answering those which remained.

  Once or twice, as Dick glanced up from his work, he noticed, halfabstractedly, that Ellis, on his left, was sitting always in the sameposition, gazing straight before him at his paper, without writing aword. And then, a little later, as he was about to begin on thequestion next the last, a faint cough from his neighbor, three or fourtimes repeated, attracted his attention. He looked up from his book,and the next instant a little ball of paper came spinning along thebench, so well aimed that it stopped just at the left of hisexamination book, lying almost within his grasp. Dick hesitated for amoment, leaned forward a trifle, unfolded the pellet, and read. At thetop, three times underlined, were the words, "Help, please," and then,underneath, "Who wrote _Barry Lyndon?_ When was Fielding born? DidTrollope write _The Moonstone?_" Below each question Ellis had left alittle space for the answer.

  Dick felt himself flush, almost as if he himself had been detected insomething wrong. With a quick movement, he thrust the telltale slipinto his pocket; then waiting until he caught Ellis' eye, he frownedslightly, shook his head in decided negative, and bent again to histask.

  He finished the paper some twenty minutes before the time had expired,re-read his answers with care, and made up his mind that no matterwhat his mark would be, he had at least done as well as he could. Hesat back in his chair, and looked around him. Most of the boys werestill hard at work. And then, as his glance fell upon his neighbor, hegave an involuntary start of surprise. Ellis was writing busily, as ifhis very life depended on it, yet even as Dick looked, he saw himpause, and tug gently at his left sleeve with the fingers of his righthand. Gradually, he pulled a long slip of paper into view, studied itcarefully for a moment, then relaxed his hold, and the paper,evidently fastened to an elastic of some sort, slid smoothly backagain out of sight. Dick looked quickly away, a feeling of disgustovercoming him. He had heard of such things, but this was the firsttime he had seen actual cheating taking place before his very eyes.Ten minutes later the bell clanged, papers and books were gathered up,and the test was over.

  The mid-years lasted for a we
ek; at the end of that time the resultswere made known. Dick did fully as well as he had expected. Out of atotal of seven subjects, he had one A, three B's, two C's, and one D.Harry Allen topped the list with five A's and two B's; Brewster did atrifle better than Dick; Putnam and Lindsay not quite so well. But thesurprise of the whole affair was Ellis' good showing. It was nothingbrilliant, compared with the records of the really fine scholars inthe class, but he did far better than any one had supposed he woulddo, and in those subjects where memory played an important part, hismarks were fully equal to the average. Thus all doubts of his beingeligible for the spring games were removed, and Brewster, as captainof the track team, heaved a sigh of relief that this anxiety was offhis mind.

  Dick found himself unable to share in Brewster's pleasure. The thoughtof that strip of paper, and those cautious fingers pulling it gentlydownward, rankled in his mind. He wondered what a fellow ought to doin such a case. He ought not to tell tales, of course; that wasn'tright; and yet--it was such a downright, dirty trick on Ellis'part--such a sailing under false colors--

  And then, one morning, he found his perplexities increased. In theexcitement of the mid-years, he had forgotten another matter ofimportance, and now, on the bulletin in the hall, appeared the noticethat in a fortnight the election for class president would be held.Only two names were put in nomination--those of Dave Ellis and ofHarry Allen--and suddenly Dick felt his doubts increase. Ought he tokeep silence, after all? It was a mean thing to tell on a fellow--hehad always known that--but on the other hand, where could you draw theline. If he saw a man commit a murder, he would certainly tell theauthorities. There was a duty in both directions, it seemed. And so hethought and thought, until finally, on one rainy afternoon, hegathered his four most intimate friends--Allen, Putnam, Brewster andLindsay--together in his room, and proceeded to unburden his mind.

  "Look here, you chaps," he began, "I want your advice. This is myfirst year in the school, and the last thing I want to do is to buttin, or to make a nuisance of myself. But I'm in a mix-up about thisbusiness of class president, and I want to put the thing up to youfellows, and see what you think of it. Of course, I'm with Harry,as you all know, just as the rest of you are, but we're not theschool--I'm afraid, this time, we're not even a majority of theschool--and I suppose the chances are all in favor of Dave's gettingit."

  Allen nodded. "Sure thing," he replied, "I think I know the sentimentpretty well. There are forty-two fellows in the class, who areentitled to vote, and I should say that just about twenty-five werefor Dave, and seventeen were for me. Of course you never can tell, forsure, until the last vote is counted, but I guess that's a pretty fairestimate. What do you fellows say?" and he turned to Putnam, Lindsayand Brewster.

  "That's about it, I think," Putnam answered, and the others noddedassent.

  "Well, then," Dick continued, "here's the question. In the firstplace, Dave Ellis isn't a fit fellow to be president of the class. Iknow it, for a fact. A class president is supposed to represent theschool; it's really the highest honor the class can give; and thefellow we elect, whatever else people might find to say about him,ought at least to be square. Now, I'll admit that I'm prejudicedagainst Dave, because he rather rubbed it into me when I came herefirst, and it didn't make things any too agreeable, for a while. Butthat's got nothing at all to do with what I'm telling you now. This issomething more than prejudice. Dave isn't on the square, and I canprove it. He cheated in the English Thirteen exam."

  There was a chorus of surprised ejaculation. Allen alone said nothing.And then Brewster asked, "How, Dick? Are you sure? That's a prettyserious charge to make against a fellow, if you can't back it up."

  But Dick seemed in nowise disposed to retract what he had said. "Oh, Ican back it up, all right," he answered. "First, he threw me a note,asking for help. And after that I saw him pull a paper out of hissleeve--you know the kind I mean, the ones they fasten to anelastic--and he was cribbing his answers from that. I saw him asplainly as I ever saw anything in my life. I'd swear to it, on myoath. There's no doubt of it at all."

  There was a long silence. Then Dick spoke again. "Well," he asked,"what ought I to do? What ought we to do, rather? Because it's up toyou fellows now, just as much as it is to me. You represent theelement that stands right back of Mr. Fenton here in the school.What's the best way to act? We can't go to Mr. Fenton, of course; thatwould be a kid trick; worse than what Dave did. But oughtn't we totell the fellows? Isn't it only fair, if they want to elect himpresident, to let them know first what kind of fellow they're pickingout to represent the class? Or ought we to go to Dave himself, beforewe do anything else, and tell him that if he'll withdraw from theelection, and promise not to cheat again, we'll keep our mouths shuton the whole thing? I don't know. I've thought about it a lot. Peoplealways tell you to do what's right, but they forget to explain howyou're going to know what is right, and what's wrong. So I've come toyou fellows to help me out. Now what do you say?"

  There was a little silence before Brewster spoke out impulsively, "Ivote we tell the whole school. It isn't right that a thing like thatshould happen, and a fellow get away with it. It's a downright dirtytrick, I think. I move we tell the whole crowd, right away."

  Putnam shook his head. "No," he objected; "that would be foolish. It'sthe worst mistake you can make to blaze ahead too quick, before you'vefigured out the things that may happen. Suppose Dave denies the wholebusiness, what then?"

  Dick's cheeks flamed. "Why, Jim," he cried; "you don't think I'mlying, do you? You don't mean to say you doubt my word?"

  Putnam smiled. "Of course I don't, Dick," he answered. "I know you toowell for that. But I was thinking of what I've heard my father say,when he's been talking about his law cases. 'Put yourself in the otherfellow's place,' is his great expression, 'and see what you'd do then.That will help you in working up your side of the argument.' Andthat's a good idea, isn't it, Harry?"

  Allen nodded. "Sure," he replied; "they do something like that inliterary criticism. 'Playing the devil's advocate,' they call it.Which means thinking up all the possible objections any one mightmake, and then going ahead and demolishing them. Yes, that's a goodprinciple to go on."

  "Well, then," continued Putnam, "here's what occurs to me. Suppose wedo as Ned says, and spread the story through the school. Some one ofDave's friends will come running to him with it right away, and what'sDave going to do then? What's to prevent him from saying that Dick islying--that Dick's a friend of Harry's, and that this is all a dodgeto get Harry elected? And if he does do that, then how does Dickstand? Dave's got an awful following here in the school, and there aresome of the fellows, I'm afraid, who wouldn't care a great dealwhether he cheated or not. They might consider it was rather a bravething to try a dodge like that, and carry it through without themaster seeing him. And even the decent fellows, who wouldn't stand forsuch a thing--what are they going to believe? It's Dave's word againstDick's and if they believe Dave, it puts Dick in an awful hole.They're going to say, 'Here's a new boy in the school, who's trying tomake all the trouble he can. And he picks out the best athlete we'vegot, and tries to blackmail him. That's an awfully mean trick, andwe'll see that we make the school too hot to hold him?' What do yousay to that, Dick?"

  Dick looked a little staggered. "Well, I hadn't thought of anythinglike that," he reluctantly admitted. "I hated to mix up in this thinganyway; yet it didn't seem right to let it slide, without saying aword. And if you go through the world on your principle, Jim, you'llalways be keeping quiet, unless you're sure you can prove what you setout to prove. And there are times, I should think, even when you knowyou're going down to defeat, where you would have to speak out, justbecause it's the right thing to do. At least, I should think that waswhat Mr. Fenton would say."

  Lindsay, usually a boy of the fewest possible words, spoke up quickly."You're right, Dick," he said. "This is too important a thing for usto let go. Whether you get into trouble or not, isn't the point. It'sa question of our duty to the school. Let's get D
ave in here, now, andsee how he acts. He may get scared, and own up to everything. If hedoesn't, then we can make up our minds what we ought to do next. Whatsay, Harry?"

  Allen had been unusually silent, although listening with the keenestinterest to all that was being said. Now he nodded. "I think that's agood idea," he said.

  Lindsay rose. "Any objection?" he asked of the room in general. No oneanswered, and he went out, and a few moments later returned, bringingEllis with him.

  If the boy who was about to be accused had any suspicions of what wasgoing to take place, he concealed them admirably. "Hullo, fellows," hesaid; "what's this gathering for? Track team, or crew?"

  Lindsay, acting as spokesman, wasted no time in beating about thebush. "It's neither, Dave," he said at once, "it's a meeting on theclass presidency."

  Ellis smiled. "Rather an Allen crowd, I guess," he remarked. "I don'tsee what you want _me_ for. I'm going to vote for myself, I'll tellyou that now. So Harry needn't waste any politeness on me; he can votefor himself, too, and then we'll be square."

  He had thrown himself back into a chair, perhaps a little tooelaborately at his ease. Lindsay spoke again. "We're not here inHarry's interests, Dave," he said quietly, "we're here in theinterests of the school. We believe you have the better chance ofbeing elected president, but there's a matter that we should like tohave explained. We want the president of the class to be a fellowabove suspicion in every way, and we want to ask you whether it istrue that you were seen to cheat in the examination in EnglishThirteen?"

  Ellis looked at him with well-assumed indignation. "I? Cheat?" heechoed; "well, I guess not. Who the devil dares to say such a thing asthat about me? I'll punch his head for him."

  Lindsay turned to Randall. "Fire away, Dick," he said.

  Dick did not flinch, but looked Ellis squarely in the eye. "I wastelling these fellows, Dave," he said, "that I didn't think you werethe man to represent the class as president. I've told no one else,but I've told them, in confidence, what you did in the EnglishThirteen exam. That you first asked me for help, and then cribbed fromthat paper up your sleeve--"

  He got no further. Ellis leaped to his feet, his face white withwrath. "You liar!" he cried.

  Dick in his turn started from his seat, his face as angry as Ellis'own. "Hold on," he cried sternly. "I don't like that word, Dave. You'dbetter take that back."

  Ellis sneered. "Not by a long shot," he answered, "that's what youare. And how you've got the nerve to start a story like that--"

  Dick drew a little piece of paper from his pocket, and handed it tothe boy he was accusing. "You didn't pass me that in the exam?" hedemanded.

  Ellis leaped to his feet, with wrath]

  Ellis' denial was almost too ready. "Of course I didn't," he flungback, "that's not my writing. I never saw the paper before. I nevercheated in an examination in my life. You're playing dirty politics,Randall, to help Allen; that's what you're doing. But you can goahead. It won't hurt me. I'll tell the story myself, to every boy inthe school, and they can judge who's lying, and who isn't. You'd liketo see me in a scrape, I guess, so you might have a chance at thePentathlon, with me out of it. Oh, I'm on to you and your schemes--"

  He was storming on, half beside himself with rage. But as he utteredthe words, Allen looked quickly up at him, as if taking a suddenresolve. "Just a minute, Dave," he said. His tone was quiet, but therewas that in his voice which made Ellis pause, half against his will.

  "Well?" he queried, "what have you got to say?"

  Allen turned to the others. "Fellows," he said, "this is a dirtybusiness--the whole thing. It makes me sick and disgusted to be mixedup in it. But I've no choice now. I've kept my mouth shut, because,since I was running against Dave, it put me in rather a queerposition, and I thought I'd better not speak. But now that Randall'sgood name is brought into it, I'll tell you what I know. Dave didcheat. I sat behind him in English Thirteen. I saw him write the noteand pass it. I saw him use the paper up his sleeve. And he worked thesame trick again in History Four." He swung around to Ellis. "Dave,"he said, "you have no right to be running for president, and you knowit. You'll withdraw right away, or I'll give this story to the schoolmyself. And one thing more. You're trying to make Dick Randall out aliar. Dick's gone into this thing against his will and risked a chanceof getting into trouble, for the sake of the school. It was a pluckything for a fellow to do, and if you breathe one little word toslander him, I'll do something that I wouldn't do in any other casefor anything under the sun. I'll go straight to Mr. Fenton with thewhole story. And you can take your chance on an investigation. Nowthen, will you pull out, or not? You can have your choice."

  There was a tense silence. An utter change had come over Ellis' face.He had the look of an animal hunted down. "You're mistaken, Harry," hesaid at last, with an effort at composure, "you're mistaken, I assureyou. You don't understand--"

  His stammering sentences died away on his lips. No one spoke, andpresently Ellis seemed to make up his mind. He raised his head with anexpression of resolve. "Look here, you fellows," he said, "I don'twant to make any trouble over this thing. But there's something elsecomes into it, that you don't know. I'm in a row over some moneyI--lost--and if I don't get it pretty soon, I'm going to be in anawful hole. I might have to leave school," he added craftily, "andthen I'd be out of it for the Pentathlon. Let's compromise this, allaround. I'll pull out of the presidency, and give Harry a walk-over,and we'll let the business of the English exam drop. It will be thebest for every one. If I did anything I ought not to have done, I'msorry. I was doing it for the school, so that I wouldn't be cut out ofthe spring athletics. Why don't you fellows, among you, raise me twohundred dollars, and we'll let things go on, just as if nothing hadhappened at all."

  The very effrontery of the proposal almost took away his listeners'breath. Finally Allen spoke. "No, Dave," he said, "that isn't quitethe way we do things here. We don't buy our athletes. We want the cup,all right, but we want it on the square. And if you cheated for thesake of the school, I'll only say that's the most remarkable way ofshowing school spirit that I've heard of yet. No, you will have towithdraw from the presidency, and give us your word never to cheatagain. And if you'll do that, we'll let this whole matter rest. Idon't know whether that's the fairest way or not, but I think it is.If you're not up for office, it's a private matter then, and one thatthere's no need of publishing around. So it's up to you, Dave. Quit ornot. We'll meet you half-way, whatever you do."

  Ellis scowled, and bit his lip. He thought for some moments insilence, then turned to go. "I'll let you know in two days," he said."You keep quiet till then, and so will I."

  He took his departure, leaving the group behind him busy withspeculations as to what he meant to do. Yet no one even dreamed whathis final decision would really be, and it came to them with a shockof surprise and disgust. For two days later, they learned that DaveEllis had suddenly left school, and a week after that, Jim Putnamburst quickly into Dick's room, where he and Allen sat studying."Golly, fellows," he shouted; "what do you think now? Dave's got it infor us, all right. He's entered Hopevale, and I'll bet a dollar itcosts us the cup."