“Jupiter crickets! That settles it, I guess. Well, I never have liked Tom Orkney, but I didn’t think him up to this sort of thing!”
“Or down to it!” cried Herman Boyd.
“Now you’re talking!” chimed in the Trojan. “Lowest-down trick that ever was!”
“Trick! Huh! Worse than that!” growled Poke. “Why, that rock might have killed one of us!”
The Shark appeared to be estimating the weight of the stone. “Yes; it’s heavy enough,” he said calmly. “If it had struck anybody squarely, the result might have been fatal.”
There was a wrathful gleam in Sam’s eye. “Where did you find the cap, Step?” he demanded. “Let’s get down to business.”
“It was on the ground, back of the barn—low limb of one of the apple trees must have knocked it off his head. Great luck that I stumbled upon it; and that was just what I did. Too dark to see anything, but my foot caught in something, and I stopped and picked the something up. And here it is!”
Poke was wagging his head in his peculiar fashion. “Fellows, it’s as plain as day. Orkney has been too proud to wear the cap to school, but he didn’t mind putting it on at night, when nobody would notice it. Then he came sneaking around the club-house. The Shark must have had a glimpse of him at the window. When we went out to see who was there, he lay low. As soon as we came back into the house, he let drive the boulder at the first chance, and then bolted for all he was worth. He had such a start that he got away; but he didn’t dare stop to pick up the cap. And now, I say, we have him where we want him.”
“You bet we have!”
“That’s hitting the nail on the head!”