CHAPTER V

THE “MUCKER” AND THE “GENTLEMAN”

Ben Badger gave Captain Dick a shove.  “Go on, Prescott!  Go on, hounds!” roared Badger.  “You’ve only one more capture to make.  Run along, Dick!  I’ll take care of Ripley.  He’ll stay right here until you come back, or else he’ll never have the nerve to show his face at Gridley H.S. again!  Run, you hounds!”

Dick needed no farther urging.

Though he was naturally wild with anger, inside, he managed to keep that feeling down and back.  He was captain of the hounds.  He had his duty to his team and his class first of all to think about.

“Come on, hounds!” he shouted to those who had lagged at sight of the knock-down.  “One more hare in our trap—–­then we’ll be back here!”

What he meant by being “back here” everyone present could guess.  In fact, many wondered why there had not sooner been a fight between the freshman and his determined sophomore enemy.

Truth to tell, Dick, after that day in the school grounds, had been inclined to overlook the whole affair.

He was not afraid of Ripley.  It was only that Dick’s ordinary good nature had triumphed.  He was not a brawler, yet could stand out for his rights when a need came.

A third of a mile further on another yell of triumph floated back to young Prescott, who had not yet regained the lead.

In a few moments more the last of the hounds came upon a flushed, joyous group of freshmen runners.  With them were two of the judges and a sheepish-looking hare.

The freshmen hounds had won, and had bagged all the hares for which the game called.  Let the five remaining hares keep on running to the finish, if they would.  For the first time in seven years the freshmen hounds, led by Captain Dick Prescott, had won.

“Ki-yi-yi-yi-yi!” howled the exultant fourth classmen.  “And another for Dick Prescott.”

“Dick Prescott has other game on his hands now,” spoke up Dan Dalzell, one of the late arrivals.

“What’s the row?” demanded the freshman who had just bagged the seventh hare.

“Row?  That’s just it,” nodded Dan.  “Prescott caught Ripley—–­”

“We saw that.”

“But you didn’t see the finish.  Ripley, as soon as he was released, knocked Dick down.”

“And you came on with the hounds, Dick!” demanded Tom Reade, incredulously.

“Badger is keeping Ripley on ice until we get back,” Dan supplied, hastily.

“Then let us get back quick!” begged Reade.

“Not too fast, though,” objected Dan.  “Remember, Ripley has been getting his wind back since he stopped.  Give our Dick the same show.”

No one thought of asking why Dick would need his wind now.  To those who had heard the brief recital of facts it was plain that there could be but one finish to the afternoon’s sport.  Prescott’s hand was sound, at last, and he could give an account of himself.