“What’s the situation—with his studies, I mean?”
Sam told him what the club had done to tutor Trojan in Latin, and to encourage him to keep up his work in the other branches.
“Of course, sir, he’s naturally had the snap knocked out of him,” he added. “This thing has hurt his rank all around. He—well, he didn’t care: he kept at it more to oblige us than for his own sake. And—well, there ought to be some allowance made on that score.”
The principal looked thoughtful. “Go on, Parker,” he said.
“As for the Latin—now, sir, it seems to me he ought to be put back where he was, given the mark he made on that paper, and allowed at least his average for the time he couldn’t go to class. And when he takes the final examination, it would be only fair to give him some leeway—we’re not crackerjack tutors, any of us, you know.”
The principal’s eyes twinkled. “Parker, knowledge of what one wants is an advantage at times. It’s quite an order of yours, but—I’ve taken the trouble to investigate Walker’s record from his entrance. And I”—he bent forward and dropped his voice—“I’m going to tell you something—in strict confidence, understand. If Walker will show reasonable industry for the brief balance of the term—why, I can assure you it will require considerable ingenuity on his part to fail to meet my requirements—all around—on this year’s work. Is that satisfactory to you?”
If the principal’s eyes had twinkled, Sam’s glistened. “It’s more than satisfactory, sir—it’s bully!” he cried; and with an impulsiveness he rarely displayed he caught the other’s hand, gripped it hard, and, turning, dashed out of the room to carry the tidings to the club.
The boys received the news as good news—the best of news—but each received it in his own way. The Shark said “Huh!” and blinked furiously behind his big spectacles. Tom Orkney wrung Sam’s hand. Poke chuckled joyously; Step threw his hat in the air; Herman Boyd turned a cartwheel. As for the Trojan, after all the chief in interest—well, he very, very nearly broke down. Probably none of his friends—not even Sam—realized how hard he had been hit, or how the belief that he had been dealt with unfairly had rankled. At times some of the boys had felt that he had been too passive in accepting rather than assisting in their efforts in his behalf; but now the Trojan left them no ground for complaint. With his reputation cleared, he threw himself with an energy which was almost ferocious into the task of making up lost time and preparing for the closing examinations.
“I don’t want to be carried through them; I want to go through them on my own feet!” he declared to Sam, tersely and most earnestly.
As has been related, the school and the town learned more or less of what had happened, though the Safety First Club issued no bulletins. And the former made haste to revise its judgment of the Trojan, and Sam, and their friends. The triumph, in fact, was complete to the point of embarrassment. There was something very like an ovation for the Trojan in the schoolyard, and a cheer, ragged but enthusiastic, was raised in Sam’s honor—and to his vast discomfort. From far off Jack Hagle looked on. He was practically an outcast now, shunned by everybody, but prevented from following Zorn’s example and fleeing the scene of his discomfiture; but Hagle, be it said, weakling though he was, was happier doing his penance than he had been as the tool of the masterful Zorn.