“There must be some High School boys here,” said the man who had first seized the humiliated pair by their collars.  “Let the High School boys decide what is to be done with them.”

“We don’t care what’s done with a pair of simpletons like them,” spoke up Ben Tozier.  “Let the crowd go as far as it likes with such a pair.”

“Don’t you dare do anything to us” screamed Ripley, now beside himself with rage.  “It will go hard with any one who interferes with us.

“Ha! ha!  Ho! ho!” roared some of the crowd.  “Listen to the half-witted pair!”

While another man spoke up jovially: 

“I’ll tell you what to do with them.  They came here to spoil the fun of the Grammar School boys.  Let the Grammar School boys dispose of these stupid fellows as they choose.”

“I tell you,” raged Ripley, “that it will go hard with any one who interferes with our comfort.  There are laws in this land.”

“Look at what doesn’t want its comfort interfered with!” jeered another voice.  “This comes from a lout who interfered with our comfort by putting several cans of red pepper on the bonfire.  Turn ’em over to the Grammar School boys.  Boys, what do you want to do with this pair?”

“We’ll make ’em run the gauntlet,” spoke up Spoff Henderson eagerly.

In a twinkling, so it seemed, a long double row of Grammar School boys was formed down the street.  Some of these boys had light twigs or sticks; others stood ready to use their hands.

“Start ’em!” yelled Spoff.  Some one did start the pair.  Bert and Fred sullenly refused to run, but quickly changed their minds.  Down the street they raced, Ripley in advance, between two parallel lines of Grammar School boys.  Sticks were laid over them, or hands reached out and administered cuffings.  It was a grotesque sight.  Long before they reached the end of the double line Bert and Fred yelled for mercy, but got none.  With final blows they were turned loose and vanished into the night.  Within a few minutes the pepper in the bonfire had burned out.  Then the revelers drew nearer, piling on other combustible stuff.

Thus was fittingly observed the victory of Dick Prescott’s nine in winning the local Grammar School championship.

Chapter XVIII

HI’S SWIMMING CHALLENGE

The reader may be sure that the members of his baseball squad had reminded him of his promise to tell them what the man on the clubhouse steps said.

“I promised I’d tell you, if you won that game,” Dick admitted.

“Yes, yes!” the other boys pressed.

“But I didn’t say when I’d tell you, did I?”

“You’re not going to try to sneak out of it that way, are you, Dick?” Dave Darrin demanded, as the boys met on Main Street the following morning, Saturday.

“I’m not going to sneak out of it at all, as you fellows ought to know,” Dick replied.  “I’m going to tell you—–­when the proper time comes.”