No one volunteered, and after a time Springer feebly suggested that they should draw lots. They were about to do so, when of a sudden Piper commanded all his resolution.
“I’ll go,” he announced. “We won’t draw; that would be gambling, in a way, and I’m done with anything of the sort. I’ll go.”
They looked at him in wonderment, vaguely realizing that this prying chap, who had succeeded in making himself rather unpopular at school, was the possessor of a certain determination and resolution with which he had never been credited.
“That’s the stuff, Sleuthy,” applauded Chipper. “Good old Sleuthy!”
“Now cut that name out,” requested Piper in a manner that was more like a command. “I’m done with that, too. I’ve been rather proud to have fellows call me Sleuth, but it makes me sick now, and I’m liable to fight any one who chucks it at me in future. If you want to do me a favor, you’ll tell the fellows so. Perhaps it will make them worse; perhaps they’ll think it fun to keep that nickname stuck on to me. But there’ll be fights—I tell you there’ll be fights!”
“Gee!” breathed Springer, staring at the speaker’s flushed face. “You’re a regular bub-bantam, Pipe. Well, if you dud-don’t like it, I’ll never call you that again.”
“Me, too; witness my solemn pledge,” said Cooper, lifting his left hand and jerking it down to put up his right. “Phil and I owe you that much for what you’ve offered to do just now.”
“Perhaps I won’t get in to see Roy,” said Billy; “but I’m going to ask the privilege. Even if I do get in, maybe I won’t have a chance to talk with him without anybody round.”
“Report as soon as you can,” urged Chipper.
“Do,” begged Phil. “We’ll go up to my house, Cooper and I; you’ll find us there.”