Follow My leader Part 48

Heathcote was waiting for him at the door.

"Well, what did the cad want?--what's the row, I say?" he demanded, catching sight of the dazed face of his chum.

"Oh, Georgie, a most frightful row!" gasped Coote. "He says I've stolen a pencil!"

"What, the one you were talking about?"

"Yes, the very one."

"I suppose you haven't, really?" asked Heathcote, with no false delicacy.

"No, really I haven't--that is, if I have I-- Look here; do hunt my pockets, will you, old man?"

Georgie obeyed, and every pocket of the unhappy Coote was successively explored, without bringing to light the missing pencil.

"There," said the suspect, with a sigh of relief when the operation was over, "I was positive I hadn't got it. He says I was the only one in the shop, and that he missed it as soon as I had gone; but really and truly I didn't take it; I never did such a thing in my life."

"Of course you didn't. He's a cad and has got a spite against us, that's what it is. What's he going to do?"

"He says unless I take it to him by this time to-morrow, he'll send a policeman to take me up," and the unhappy youth's voice choked with the words.

Heathcote gave a long, dismal whistle.

"Whatever will you do?" he asked, in tones of deep concern.

"How can I take it back?" asked Coote, "if I hadn't got it. I wish to goodness I had got it!"

"You'll have to square him, somehow," said Georgie. "You're positive it hasn't dropped into your shoes, or anywhere, by accident."

The bare suggestion sent Coote up to the dormitory, where he undressed, and shook out each article of his toilet, in the hope of discovering the lost treasure.

Alas! high or low, there was no _sign_ of it.

He spent a terrible afternoon, wondering where he should be that time to-morrow, or whether possibly Mr Webster would alter his mind, and send a policeman up forthwith.

He was in no humour for tennis, or a row in the Den, or a "Sociable"

concert after school, and avoided them all. And to add to his troubles, Heathcote was detained two hours for some offence; so that he was deprived for an equal length of time of the consolation of that hero's sympathy and advice.

He spent the interval dismally in a retired corner of the field, where he hoped to be able to collect his shattered wits in peace. But it was no good. He could see no way through it.

"Oh!" thought he, for the hundredth time, "how I wish I had really taken it!"

He had just arrived at this conclusion, when a light step approaching, caused him to look up, and see d.i.c.k.

"Hullo, old man," said the latter, "how jolly blue you look. What's the row?"

Coote repeated his dismal story, and marked the dismay which crept over his leader's face as he told it.

"By Jove, old man," said d.i.c.k, "it's a mess. How ever are you to get out?"

"That's just what I don't know," groaned Coote. "If I only had the pencil it would be all right. But, really and truly, d.i.c.k, I never took it; did I?"

"All serene," said d.i.c.k. "But, I say, if you can't give him the pencil back, perhaps you can pay him for it."

"It cost thirty shillings; and I've only got seven-and-six."

"I've got ten shillings," said d.i.c.k. "That's seventeen-and-six.

Perhaps if we gave him that, he'd wait for the rest."

"You're an awful brick," said poor Coote, gratefully. "If it hadn't been for you and Georgie, I don't know what I should have done."

d.i.c.k started and coloured.

"Is he in it? Does he know about it?" he asked.

"Yes, d.i.c.k," said Coote, feeling rather in a hobble. "I--thought, you know, I'd better tell him."

"What did he say?"

"Oh, not much; that is, he said he'd help me if he could. But--I don't see how he can."

"He might be able to lend you enough to make up the price," said d.i.c.k, after a pause.

"I know he would, he's such a brick--that is," added the wretched Coote, correcting himself, "you're both such bricks."

d.i.c.k made no answer, but walked off, musing to himself.

"Both bricks!" And yet poor Coote had to blush when he mentioned the name of one brick to the other! d.i.c.k was getting tired of this.

He retired to the school, to think over what could be done, and was about to ascend the stairs, when the familiar form of Georgie appeared coming to meet him.

"Georgie, Coote's in an awful mess; I vote we back him up."

"So do I, rather, old man."

And they went off arm-in-arm to find him.

Check to you, Pledge!

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

HOW OUR HEROES FALL OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE.

Templeton opened its eyes as it saw David and Jonathan walking together across the fields that afternoon. The Den, with native quickness of perception, instantly snuffed a battle in the air, and dogged the heels of the champions with partisan shouts and cheers.

"d.i.c.k will finish him in a round and a half," shouted Raggles.