“Because,” replied Alf, with dignity, “he was unarmed.”
“Come on, Gerald,” laughed Dan. “Let’s go home. The massacre is postponed until to-morrow.”
“To-morrow is Sunday,” Gerald objected. “We can’t wipe out the faculty on Sunday, can we?”
“No.” Alf shook his head thoughtfully. “No, my soul revolts at the thought of killing any one on Sunday. We will wait until Monday. Good-night, Brothers in the Cause. Sic semper facultus et al.!”
“The same to you,” replied Dan, politely, from the doorway, “and many of them.”
[CHAPTER III]
A CALL FOR CANDIDATES
The rain continued most of Sunday, and when it ceased the snow was a thing of the past. Monday dawned bright, and a brisk easterly breeze began the task of drying the sopping, spongy world. Winter had lingered long that year; or, perhaps, it would be better to say that winter had returned for a supplementary season. But now that appeared to be over at last and, in spite of the chill wind, the sunshine held a very springlike warmth in the sheltered places. Gerald Pennimore watched the weather anxiously, and once, between French and mathematics recitations, he stole down to the field and set foot tentatively on the track. The result wasn’t encouraging, for his shoe sank into the cinders for a depth of two inches. He sighed and shook his head. It did seem as though fate was determined to discourage in every possible way his efforts to become a mile runner!
Gerald had been at Yardley only a little over a year, for he had entered at the beginning of the previous Winter Term. Gerald’s father, known the country over as the Steamship King, owned a big estate, Sound View, which adjoined the school grounds on the west. There Mr. Pennimore and Gerald—there were no others in the family since Gerald’s mother was dead and he had neither brothers nor sisters—usually spent nine months of the year, retiring to New York in the early winter and returning at the first sign of spring. Until last year Gerald had been in the care of tutors and would, perhaps, have been so still had not a chance meeting with Dan Vinton ripened into a friendship. Dan had fostered Gerald’s desire to enter Yardley, and in the end Mr. Pennimore, to whom Gerald was very dear, had consented, though not without misgivings. The misgivings, however, had soon departed, for after the first month or two Gerald had got on famously. It had been hard going at first, for many of the fellows had suspected Gerald of being stuck-up because of his father’s wealth, and “Money-bags” was the least offensive of the nicknames devised for him. But Gerald had been fortunate in having the friendship of Dan, Alf, and Tom, under whose guardianship he had eventually settled down into a fairly useful member of the school community. Gerald had made good on his class baseball team, had won election to Cambridge Society in the face of some rather malicious opposition, had run a good race in the Cross Country meet, and not more than a fortnight since had scored the winning goal and won his Y when, as a substitute on the Hockey Team, Alf had put him in in the last minute or two of the Broadwood game. That goal had been something of a fluke, but Gerald had worked hard with the substitutes, and no one begrudged him the privilege of wearing the Y, a privilege of which he proudly availed himself whenever possible. At the present time Mr. Pennimore was abroad and Sound View was still closed. Gerald roomed with Dan in 28 Clarke.