Was it the warm sympathy in the Westerner’s tone, or relief at finding that others knew the secret, or natural indignation at an unwarranted suspicion, that suddenly put to flight the boy’s reserve? Philip himself could not have told.
“What do you take me for?” he demanded. “Not on your life!”
“Glad to hear it. Your classmate, Eddy, got bled pretty deep,” went on Tompkins.
“We were just talking about him,” said Dick. “It’s a bad case.”
“An easy game for a card sharper,” said Tompkins, coolly, “and a big piece of folly by a little fool. Neither the sharper nor the fool ought to be here,—one’s too dangerous and the other’s too weak; but if I should go to Grim and tell him about the thing, and let him do with the fellow what he really ought to, I suppose I should never dare to look a boy in the face again.”
“You probably wouldn’t enjoy life much in school afterwards,” said Dick, thoughtfully.
“I thought as much,” Tompkins continued in the same tone. “If he stole or murdered, we could complain to the authorities and have him arrested; but as he’s only ruining the characters of a few little boys, it wouldn’t be nice to tell on him. Great thing, this school honor, when you understand it! Well, so long!”
CHAPTER VI
A WESTERN SOLUTION
“Do you think Bosworth’s still keeping it up?” asked Melvin, as he stood before the fireplace in Varrell’s room in Hale a day or two later.