That Board meeting was about as dull and uneventful as the average.  Yet Dick managed to make a few live paragraphs out of it that Guilford, “The Blade’s” news editor, accepted.

It still lacked some minutes of ten o’clock when young Prescott left the morning newspaper office and started briskly homeward.

“I didn’t catch that Board-reporting idea a day too soon,” the boy told himself, laughing.  “Mr. Cantwell was certainly on hand for mischief to-night.  But how quickly he made his get-away when he discovered that his culprit was present as a member of the press!  I guess Mr. Gadsby must have passed him a strong hint.  But I must be careful not to have any malice in the matter.  Some evening when Mr. Cantwell does come before the Board with some report I must take pains to give him and his report a nice little notice and ask ‘The Blade’ folks to be sure to print it.  Then—–­gracious!”

Utterly startled, Dick heard and saw an ugly brickbat whizz by his head.  It came out of the dark alley that the sophomore was passing at that moment.  And now came another, aimed straight for his head!

CHAPTER IV

DAVE WARNS TIP SCAMMON

There wasn’t time to jump out of the way of that second flying missile.

By an instinct of self-preservation young Prescott, instead of trying to leap out of the way, just collapsed, going down to his knees.

As he sank the missile struck the top of his cap, carrying it from his head.

“Hi!  Stop that, you blamed rascal!”

It was Dave Darrin’s voice that rang out, as that young man came rushing down the street behind Prescott.

Dick in another second was on his feet, crouching low, and running full tilt into the alleyway.

It was Dick’s way—–­to run at danger, instead of away from it.

At his first bound into the alley, Prescott dimly made out some fellow running at the further end.

There was an outlet of escape down there—–­two of them, in fact, as the indignant pursuer knew.  So he put on speed, but soon was obliged to halt, finding that his unknown enemy had gotten away.  Here Dick was joined by breathless Dave Darrin, who had followed swiftly.

“You go through there, Dave; I’ll take the other way,” urged Dick, again starting in pursuit.

The unknown one, however, had taken advantage of those few seconds of delay to get safely beyond chase.  So the chums met, soon, in a side street.

“His line of retreat was good,” muttered Dick, rather disgustedly.

“Who was it, anyway?” Dave indignantly inquired.

“I don’t know.  I didn’t see.”

“Do you suppose it could have been Tip Scammon?” asked Dave, shrewdly.

“Is Tip Scammon back from the penitentiary?”

“Got back this afternoon, and has been showing himself around town this evening,” nodded Dave.  “Say, I wonder if he could have been the one who ambushed you?”