“There is the academy,” he murmured, as he saw gleaming lights in the distance. “Shall I go back there? What shall I do? I might run away, but it would do no good. They would overtake me. They would know then that I was guilty. If I go back I may be able to bluff it through. What a fool I was! Why didn’t I rob Merriwell of his trinkets and money and bury them somewhere in the woods? Then they might think it was done by a tramp. But it is too late for that now.”
It was difficult, indeed, for him to return to the academy, but he set his teeth and started on a run. Across the fields he went, leaping the fences. In this manner he finally came into the road not far from the academy and unexpectedly ran fairly into a number of boys who were walking along that road.
“Whoop!” cried one. “Whoever is this yere galoot? Whoever is this rambling maverick?”
Chester was seized by several hands, but he attempted to break away.
“Let me alone!” he cried. “Mind your own business!”
“What?” roared the voice of Buckhart. “Chaw me up! I opine I recognize that musical voice. See here, pard, here’s the fine gent you’re looking for.”
Then Arlington came near swooning, for, in spite of the darkness, he saw before him Dick Merriwell. And around Dick’s head there was a white bandage.
“So it’s you!” exclaimed Dick, confronting his enemy. “And you are the whelp who struck me down in the woods! I am looking for you!”
“You’re a liar!” instantly cried Chester. “I haven’t touched you!”
“Fighting talk, pard!” said Buckhart.