"Mr. Prescott," demanded Dr. Thornton, "what is that pointed object in your pocket?"
"What?" demanded Fred Ripley, tensely.
Dick himself thrust a hand into that pocket, and drew forth—-Fred
Ripley's missing pin.
"What—-why—-who——-" gasped the freshman, suffocatingly.
"Oh, yes, of course," jeered Fred Ripley. "Astonished, aren't you—-you mucker?"
The last two words Ripley uttered in so low a tone that the principal, gazing in horrified fascination at the pin that he now held in his own hands, did not hear.
"You coward!" cried Dick, hotly, and clenched his fist, intent on driving it against the sophomore's face.
But Dr. Thornton knew enough about High School boys' fights, to galvanize himself into action. Like a flash he bounded between the two boys.
"Here, here, Prescott, none of that!" he admonished.
"I—-I beg your pardon, sir," gasped Dick, in a tone which made it very plain that he did not include his enemy in that apology.