“At the close of the session the principal wishes to see Mr. Prescott,” read Mr. Cantwell from the platform just before school was dismissed that afternoon.

Dick waited in some curiosity.

“Mr. Prescott, you write for ‘The Blade,’ don’t you?” asked Mr. Cantwell.

“Sometimes, sir.”

“Then, Mr. Prescott, please understand that I forbid you to write anything for publication concerning this morning’s happenings.”

Dick remained silent.

“You will not, will you?”

“That, Mr. Cantwell, is a matter that seems to rest between the editor and myself.”

“But I have forbidden it,” insisted the principal, in surprise.

“That is a matter, sir, about which you will have to see the editor.  Here at school, Mr. Cantwell, I am under your orders.  At ’The Blade’ office I work under Mr. Pollock’s instructions.”

The principal looked as though he were going to grow angry.  On the whole, though, he felt that he had had enough of the consequences of his own wrath for one day.  So he swallowed hard and replied: 

“Very good, then, Mr. Prescott.  I shall hold you responsible for anything you publish that I may consider harmful to me.”

Dick did print an account of the trouble at school.  He confined himself to a statement of the facts that he had observed with his own eyes.  Editorially “The Blade” printed a comment to the effect that such scenes would have been impossible under the much-missed Dr. Thornton.

Mr. Cantwell didn’t have anything disagreeable to say to Dick Prescott the next morning.  Purcell took up the burden of his studies again without comment.  The principal did apologize effectively to young Bristow before the student body, while the elder Bristow stood grimly by.

CHAPTER XIV

THE STEAM OF THE BATSMAN

All of Dick & Co. had made the High School nine, though not all as star players in their positions.

Holmes had won out for left field, and Hazelton for shortstop.  As far as the early outdoor practice showed, the latter was going to be the strongest man of the school in that important position.

Dalzell and Reade became first and second basemen.

During the rest of March practice proceeded briskly.  Six days in every week the youngsters worked hard at the field in the afternoons.  When it rained they put in their time at the gym.

On the second of April Coach Luce called a meeting of the baseball squad at the gym.

“We’re a week, now, from our first game, gentlemen,” announced the coach.  “I want you all to be in flawless condition from now on.  I will put a question to you, now, on your honor.  Has any man broken training table?”

No one spoke or stirred.  Ripley, who had gotten over the worst of his sulks, was present, but he did not admit any of his many breaches of the training table diet that he was pledged to follow at home.