"Help! help! Come! come! Help me! Help! Help!"
If Ward had not been so angry and startled by the unexpected sounds he would have laughed. He had not harmed the boy, for he had only grasped him roughly by the shoulder. But evidently Ripley was thoroughly alarmed by Ward's manner and believed that his last hour had come.
In a moment there was a rush of boys up the stairway and they were pounding upon the door eagerly striving to open it or break it in.
Taking advantage of Ward's momentary confusion, Ripley slipped from his grasp and hastily drew back the bolt of the door and flung it wide open. A dozen or more boys rushed into the room, Tim Pickard at their head, and stopped a moment in surprise as they gazed at the two boys.
Scarcely a word had been uttered, however, before Ward heard some one speaking in the doorway. He instantly recognized the voice as that of Mr. Crane, and his anger gave way to a feeling of embarrassment.
"What's the meaning of this?" said Mr. Crane quietly, though his manner was somewhat stern. "I want you all to go immediately to your own rooms."
The boys started to obey at once, Ward being the last to pass Mr. Crane, who stood holding the door open for them to go through.
"I'm surprised, Hill," he said quietly as Ward passed him. "You will come and explain this later to me, I am sure."
"I'm ready to explain it now," said Ward eagerly.
"Not now, Hill," said Mr. Crane, smiling for the first time as he marked the eagerness of the lad. "Come over to-morrow evening."