He brought the lunch the Misses Perkinpine had put up for him, and stayed in the neighborhood of the school-house all noon, with a number of others, who lived some distance away. As the weather was quite warm, the boys sat under a tree, talking over the stirring incidents of the preceding few days.
Fred was answering a question for the twentieth time, when he was alarmed by the sudden appearance of Bud Heyland, with his trousers tucked in his boots, his briar-wood pipe—that is, a new one—in his mouth, and his blacksnake-whip in hand.
As he walked along he looked at the school-house very narrowly, almost coming to a full stop, and acting as though he was searching for some one. He did not observe that half a dozen boys were stretched out in the shadow of the big tree across the road.
"Keep still!" said Fred, in a whisper, "and maybe he won't see us."
But young Heyland was not to be misled so easily. Observing that the school was dismissed, he looked all around him, and quickly espied the little fellows lolling in the shade, when he immediately walked over toward them.
Fred Sheldon's heart was in his mouth on the instant, for he was sure Bud was looking for him.
"He must have known me last night," he thought, "and as he couldn't catch me then he has come to pay me off now."
But it would have been a confession of guilt to start and run, and Bud would be certain to overtake him before he could go far, so the boy did not stir from the ground on which he was reclining.
"Halloo, Bud," called out several, as he approached. "How are you getting along?"