“But——”
“But it was like locking the door after the horse was stolen,” Poke put in.
“Right you are!” contributed the Trojan.
“Well, what’s the latest news?” asked Sam. “How is Perrine this morning?”
“Mighty badly off, I hear,” Step told him.
“Delirious all night,” added the Trojan.
Sam looked perturbed, and with reason. “Little” Perrine, as the boy was known to his mates, was a delicate chap, clever at his books—he was a high school freshman at ten—but weak physically and of an extremely nervous temperament; just the sort of lad, in short, to suffer most from such an experience as he had undergone in the icy water. Moreover, he was the pet of the school, and any harm done him would be bitterly resented by the pupils. Indeed, the case promised to go hard with the unpopular Orkney, even if more encouraging tidings were received from those caring for one regarded generally as the victim of his malicious pursuit.
The Shark came hurrying up the walk, carrying a great bundle of books. He nodded at his clubmates, but did not halt. Poke chuckled softly as he passed them.
“There’s cold-blooded science for you!” said he. “Much the Shark cares for a trifling matter of life or death when he’s got a real juicy lot of equations on hand! Why, he put in all yesterday afternoon figuring away with the principal, and now he’s going to have another crack at him before the bell rings. I met him last night, and asked him what he was up to, and what do you suppose he said?”
“Give it up,” said the Trojan.