Lanny only smiled untroubledly, and Chester, trying to look quite as if he heard nothing, gazed intently at the back of Lanny’s head. But when he was squeezing his way past the last boy in the row a foot went out and Chester, stumbling, had to catch Lanny’s shoulder to keep from falling. Instantly he turned and confronted the grinning face beside him.
“Don’t do that,” he said quietly, “or you’ll get hurt.”
There was something in Chester’s countenance that silenced the retort on the Springdale youth’s lips, and it was not until Lanny and Chester were in the aisle and on their way down that the fellow’s courage returned. Then, raising his voice, he called:
“You wouldn’t hurt anyone, you Clearfield spy!”
A jeer from the others accompanied the taunt, but Chester kept straight ahead. He was thoroughly angry inside, but he knew that it would never do to accept that challenge. Chester was no coward, but he realized that it would look rather disgraceful for a member of the Clearfield team to visit Springdale as a scout and then get into a fracas! All the way down the stand, and, indeed, until they were well back into the town, they were uncomfortably conscious of the curious, amused, often unfriendly regard of the Springdale fellows, and more than once the word “Spy!” reached them as, striving to converse unconcernedly, they followed the returning throng toward the town.
But eventually they found themselves alone, and Lanny heaved a sigh of relief. “I wouldn’t do that again for a thousand dollars!” he said emphatically.
“And I wouldn’t do it for ten thousand,” replied Chester. “The next time Dick wants any dirty work like that done he may do it himself! The worst of it was we couldn’t fight!”
“Which,” replied Lanny dryly as they boarded a car, “was lucky for us!”