“That was my deduction,” nodded Piper.
“And he was really the fellow who put up the whole job,” gurgled Tuttle. “He’s skinning out on us; he’s leaving us to face the music.”
“And if that doesn’t prove him to be the biggest coward in Oakdale I’ll eat my hat!” snarled Cooper. “He made a lot of talk about Grant being a quitter and a coward, but now he’s showing himself up all right. Say, I’d like to have just a few words with him—I’d like to tell him what I think. Come on.”
“Too late,” said Piper. “There’s the train whistling now.”
The sound of a locomotive signaling for the station beyond the river reached their ears through the clear, cold November morning, and they knew that long ere they could reach the depot the train would pull out for Clearport.
“Let him go,” muttered Tuttle. “He’ll have to come back. He can’t dodge it this way.”
In the shed those three unhappy boys discussed the affair until the first bell sounded from the tower of the academy, when at last, encouraged by one another’s company, they set forth for school, making haste through the main part of the village. As they approached the academy Phil Springer stepped round a corner and beckoned to them.
“Juj-juj-jiminy!” chattered Tuttle, his teeth rattling in spite of his efforts to prevent them. “They’ve heard something about Grant!”
Their hearts heavy, they followed Springer. Behind the academy they found assembled the rest of the boys who had taken part in the hazing, with the exception of Berlin Barker, and these lads gazed at them inquiringly as they approached.
“Have yeou fellers heard anything?” asked Sile Crane.