“No; if we follow the tune, it’ll have to be by ear,” chuckled Poke.
The Shark shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I didn’t believe you fellows had the sense to understand the process,” he said frankly. “Still, I thought I’d give you a chance. But if I’ve got to jump to the result, I’ll tell you that, having secured my data, I proved conclusively that the stone was thrown by somebody with a lot more muscle than Tom Orkney has. Why, the low trajectory——”
Two or three of the boys were grinning. “There, there! Don’t call names!” jeered Herman Boyd.
The Shark’s glance went from one to another of his friends.
“Oh, well,” he said resignedly, “I guess it’s useless. Only you may be interested to know that the principal went over my work and verified it.”
“What! Didn’t tell him, did you?”
“No; of course not. Had a supposititious case, naturally.”
“Oh!” said two or three, in relieved chorus.
The Shark put the paper back in his pocket. “All right,” he said. “You haven’t disappointed me. I know your limitations.”
But Poke was disposed to argument. “Look here, Shark! You’re banking too much on your rules and formulas. Remember the professors who said a curved ball couldn’t be pitched, and proved it—on paper?”