“I cannot tell, sir,” replied Clark.
The professor mused for a few minutes, then he asked, “Can you tell me the name of the boy who talked with this fellow, and gave him something?”
Clark hesitated.
“I know who it was, Professor,” he said at last, “but the boys of section D have more than once accused me of telling tales, though I have never once done so. In this case I think that you ought to know who this boy was; but, sir, won’t you try to find out some other way first? If you fail to find out by other means, I cannot refuse to tell you, but please do not ask me now.”
“Very well, my boy, I will not ask you to-day, but I think likely it will be necessary for me to ask you again later. I want to thank you, Clark, for what you have told me. It is a relief to question a boy upon whose word I can rely. I need not ask you to keep silence as to what has passed this morning. I know you will do so.”
He rose, and held out his hand, and Clark grasped it and departed with a breath of relief that that ordeal was over.
Crawford, Henderson and Freeman left the school together, but Freeman turned off at the first cross-street. He was in no mood for Crawford’s careless gaiety and Henderson’s sneers and flings. He was going along with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground, when, turning a corner, he almost ran into his cousin. He would have passed on without a word, but Clark put his arm affectionately across his shoulders, and fell into step with him.
“I was just going around to your house, Ray, to see if you would go with me for a tramp over the hills,” he said; “I don’t feel like settling to work to-day, and I don’t believe you do. Come on—won’t you?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Freeman, wearily.
“Don’t you feel equal to it?” Clark asked.