“Suppose!” groaned the Shark. “Can’t you fellows ever learn to be exact?”
A little color came into the Trojan’s cheeks at the thrust. “Be reasonable, Shark! If a brick fell from a chimney and hit you, would you—er—er—would you find out, first thing, how tall the chimney was? This—this whole business—well, it just took me off my feet.”
“Huh! Guess it did. But I’ve got my feet under me, and I’d like to get things straight. Now, tell me! What’s the last—the last thing you’re absolutely sure about—about the book, I mean?”
“I left it in the corridor. Sam had borrowed it for a minute, but he gave it back. I had just time to look up a passage before the bell rang. Then I left the Cicero with two or three other books I had—stacked ’em against the wall, just as all the other fellows did with theirs. When we came out, after the examination, everybody was in a rush to get away. I grabbed up my books. I didn’t stop to count ’em. I took it for granted all of them were there. And as we’ve had no Latin recitation since then, it didn’t occur to me to look up my Cicero.”
“Same case here—same to a dot!” testified Poke.
“Nothing to do with the case,” objected the Shark. “We’re figuring on the Trojan’s row. And where did you sit, Trojan?”
“In the back row.”
“Sure of that?”
“Yes.”
“I remember he was there,” Sam corroborated. “I was two rows in front of him.”