"Messmer, answer me."
"Dr. Clay, they are in this room, but I—I cannot tell you who they are."
"Porter, what have you to say?"
There was a moment of breathless silence.
"Dr. Clay, I would rather you would not ask me to mention any names," said Dave, slowly but firmly. "I think every fellow ought to speak up for himself. He will if he has any honor about him."
"Then you decline to speak?"
"I am very sorry to say that I do, sir."
There was another pause, and then a rather stupid boy arose and began to shuffle his feet uneasily.
"What is it, Seabold?" asked the doctor.
"I ain't going to hang back no longer, Dr. Clay," stammered Seabold. "I was in that—er—that mix-up with Messmer and Jardell. Porter and Morr and that crowd didn't have anything to do with it. I don't like to be a sneak, but I can't stand up for such a sneak as Gus Plum, nor Nat Poole, nor Nick Jasniff neither. We were all in it together, and as Porter says, they ought to have honor enough to speak up and take their share of the blame. We didn't mean to hurt Frank Bond, only to scare him. When he ran away I got scared myself and so did the others. We began to hunt for Frank, and then Porter and his crowd came along and helped us. But it was no use, we couldn't find the boy. I ain't slept all night thinking of Frank. I'd give all I'm worth to find him."