“You may go.” And Freeman went.
Then the professor turned to Clark.
“Clark,” he said, sadly, “I can forgive anything sooner than a lie. Will you tell me the truth?”
“If I can, sir. I will certainly tell you nothing but the truth,” replied the boy. His eyes met his teacher’s as boldly as Henderson’s had done, but with a very different expression in their clear depths.
The professor gave a sigh of relief. He was skilled in reading boys’ faces, and he felt instinctively that he could trust this boy.
“Tell me what you know about this miserable business,” he said.
“I know very little,” replied Clark. “I had been afraid that there might be trouble because of the strong feeling in regard to the prizes; and while Company D was drilling, I saw a lot of the rougher fellows whispering together. Then I saw one of them leave his seat and speak to a boy—not a high-school boy I am sure, certainly not a Central boy—and give him something, and then this boy walked to the back of the stand. He waited a moment, and then I saw him light a match, and it flashed across my mind what he was going to do. I ran across to try to stop him, but the stand was so crowded that I couldn’t reach him in time. He saw me coming, and I think that that made him throw the cracker before he was quite ready, and maybe that is why he threw it as he did, so that it did not explode towards the boys.”
“He was gone, I suppose, before you could get to him?” said the professor.
“Yes, he disappeared. I think he dropped from the back of the seats to the ground.”
“Should you know him if you should see him again?”