"I don't know," Dick confessed. "It may be that Mr. Cantwell is just trying to keep me guessing."
"If that's his plan," inquired Reade, "what are you going to do, old fellow?"
"Perhaps—-just possibly—-I shall fight back with the same weapon," smiled Dick.
Mr. Cantwell had, in truth, formed his plan, or as much of it as he could form until he had found just how the land lay, and what would be safe. His present berth, as principal of Gridley H.S., was a much better one than he had ever occupied before. Mr. Cantwell cherished a hope of being able to keep the position for a good many years to come. Yet this would depend on the attitude of the Board of Education. In order not to take any step that would bring censure from the Board, Mr. Cantwell had decided to attend the Board's next meeting on the following Monday evening, and lay the matter before the members confidentially. If the Board so advised, Mr. Cantwell was personally quite satisfied with the idea of disciplining Dick by dropping him from the High School rolls.
"I'll protect my dignity, at any cost," Mr. Cantwell, murmured, eagerly to himself. "After all, what is a High School principal, without dignity?"
Monday afternoon Dick Prescott stepped in at "The Blade" office.
"Got something for us again?" asked Mr. Pollock, looking around.
"Not quite yet," Dick replied. "I've come to make a suggestion."
"Prescott, suggestions are the food of a newspaper editor. Go ahead."
"You don't send a reporter to report the Board of Education meetings, do you?"