“There is no especial need of it,” rejoined Jack quietly..  “He has only made a stupid mistake, and done me no harm whatever, and it is really not worth while to pay any more attention to it.  I shall not, at any rate.”

“I am sorry he is here, anyhow,” said Arthur.  “He is always making a lot of trouble.  The fellows don’t like him and after the other day when he claimed that he thought the Rocky Hill boys were playing a trick on him, and would not go to the aid of the one who had the cramp, not only our boys, but the other fellows are sore on him, and if there are any more meets they will look out that he is not asked.”

“They probably won’t have any,” added Percival.  “They are really bound to ask the whole Academy, and so they won’t ask any one.  That will put an end to these meets, for they won’t come up here as long as they know they will meet Herring.  For my part I think he ought to be exposed, but, of course, it should be as Jack thinks.  He is the one most concerned.”

“He may not stay here after this,” said Jack.

“He did not care to stay here in the beginning, I understand, preferring to go to some more lively place, and it is likely that he will leave after this.”

“We’ll wait a little and see,” answered Percival.  “If he goes, that will settle the matter without any trouble.  However, I want to see what Brooke will have to say about that paper using your poem without his consent, and putting it under another name.”

The boys went to town in Jack’s boat, and called at the office of the News, where they found the editor busy as usual.

Jack had the copy of the other paper with him, and showed it to the editor, asking him if he knew anything about it.

“I don’t exchange with it,” Brooke said, “but some one may have seen the poem in our paper and sent it to him.  I’ll call him up.”

There was a long-distance telephone in the office, and the editor called up the other editor, and said: 

“This is Brooke of the Riverton News.  How about your printing a poem last week written especially for us, and putting another name to it?  The poem was called ‘The Message of the Hudson.’  You remember it?”

“Yes.  It was written by a young lady stopping at the hotel here, and given to me.”

“Oh, no, it was not.  It was written by a young gentleman of the Hilltop Academy, and written especially for us, and not signed.  I have his original manuscript in the office, and he is here now.”

“Well, I am very sorry, but the young lady told me she wrote it, and, as I thought it was very good, I published it.”

“You were right enough there, for it is good, but I have a copyright, which the young lady should have seen and respected.  Will you make a correction in your next issue?”

“I certainly will, Mr. Brooke, and be glad to.  You don’t think that I would have published the verses had I known the truth?”