“Ouch!” suddenly exclaimed the principal, in very real pain.

He drew the hand out, quickly.  A drop of blood oozed up at the tip of his forefinger.

“Mr. Prescott,” demanded Dr. Thornton, “what is that pointed object in your pocket?”

“What?” demanded Fred Ripley, tensely.

Dick himself thrust a hand into that pocket, and drew forth—–­Fred Ripley’s missing pin.

“What---why---who-----” gasped the freshman, suffocatingly.

“Oh, yes, of course,” jeered Fred Ripley.  “Astonished, aren’t you—–­you mucker?”

The last two words Ripley uttered in so low a tone that the principal, gazing in horrified fascination at the pin that he now held in his own hands, did not hear.

“You coward!” cried Dick, hotly, and clenched his fist, intent on driving it against the sophomore’s face.

But Dr. Thornton knew enough about High School boys’ fights, to galvanize himself into action.  Like a flash he bounded between the two boys.

“Here, here, Prescott, none of that!” he admonished.

“I—–­I beg your pardon, sir,” gasped Dick, in a tone which made it very plain that he did not include his enemy in that apology.

“May I trouble you for my pin, sir, now that it has been recovered?” asked Fred, coolly.

“Why—–­um!—–­that depends,” replied Dr. Thornton, slowly, speaking with a painful effort.  “If you, or your father, have or would have any idea of a criminal prosecution, Ripley, then it would be improper to return your pin.  It would have to be turned over to the police as an exhibit in evidence. But do you intend anything of that sort, Mr. Ripley?”

“Why, that’s as you say, doctor,” replied the sophomore, quickly.  “It’s a matter of school discipline, and belongs to your province.  Personally, I know that I would rather not have this matter go any further.”

“I—–­I don’t know what to do,” confessed Dr. Thornton, in anxious perplexity.  “In any event, before doing anything, I think I had better consult the superintendent and the Board of Education.  Mr. Prescott, I will say, freely, that I am most loath to believe anything of this sort against you can be possible.  There must be—–­must be—–­some—–­er explanation.  I—–­I—–­don’t want you to feel that I believe your guilt as yet assured.  I---I-----”

Here Dr. Thornton broke down, dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief.  Almost unconsciously he passed the pin, which he was yet holding, to Fred Ripley.

“Lock the locker door, Mr. Prescott—–­and give me the key,” requested the principal.

Dick passed over the key, then spoke, with more composure than might have been expected under the circumstances: 

“Dr. Thornton, I am as innocent of any thieving as you yourself can be.  Sooner or later the right of this will come out.  Then you will realize that I didn’t steal anything.  I’ll prove myself innocent yet, sir.”