Finally the hands of the clock stood upright, one over the other. Prof. Richardson closed his desk and locked it, after which he turned and faced the scholars. His eyes found Ben Stone and stopped. The time had come!
“Stone,” said the professor quietly, without a trace of harshness or reproof, “I should like to have you remain after the others are dismissed. I wish to speak with you.”
For a moment a feeling of relief flashed over Ben like an electric shock. So it was to be done privately, and not before the whole school! He was grateful for that much consideration for his feelings. When they were by themselves in that big, empty room, with no one else to hear, the professor would tell him quietly but firmly that it was quite out of the question to permit a boy of his bad reputation to remain in the school. He would be directed to leave the academy, never to return.
With many backward glances at the lad who remained behind, the scholars filed out. The door had closed behind the last of them when Ben was told to come down to the principal’s desk. There was no accusation, nothing but kindness, in Prof. Richardson’s eyes, as he looked on the boy who stood before him.
“Stone,” he said, in that same self-contained tone of voice, “I find it necessary to speak of an unpleasant matter relative to yourself. You came here to this school as a stranger, and it has ever been my practice to judge a boy by his acts and to estimate his character by what he proves himself to be. This is the course I should have pursued in your case, but this morning there came to me a gentleman who is well known in this town and highly respected, who knew you well before settling in Oakdale, and he told me many disagreeable things about you. I cannot doubt that he spoke the truth. He seemed to regard you as a rather dangerous and vicious character, and he expressed a belief that it was not proper for you to associate with the scholars here. I am not, however, one who thinks there is no chance of reform for a boy or man who has done wrong, and I think it is a fatal mistake to turn a cold shoulder on the repentant wrongdoer. I have given some thought to this matter, Stone, and I have decided to give you a chance, just the same as any other boy, to prove yourself here at this school.”
Ben was quivering from head to feet. In his heart new hope and new life leaped. Still in some doubt, he faltered:
“Then you – you are not going to – to expel me, sir?”
“Not until I am satisfied that you deserve it; not until by some act that comes under my observation you convince me that you are not earnestly seeking to reform – that you are not worthy to remain in the school.”
“Oh, thank you – thank you!” choked the boy, and that was all he could say. His voice broke, and he saw the kind face of the professor through a blurring mist.
“I hope I am not making a mistake in this, Stone,” that same soothing voice went on. “I hope you will try to prove to me that I am not.”
“I will, sir – I will!” Ben eagerly promised.
“That is all I ask of you. If you have a vicious disposition, try to overcome it; if you have a violent temper, seek to control it. Learn to be your own master, which is the great lesson that every one must learn in case he wishes to become honored and respected and successful in life. Prove to every one that you regret any mistakes of your past, and that you may be thoroughly trusted in the future. In this manner you will rise above your mistakes and above yourself. I don’t think I need say anything more to you, but remember that I shall watch you with anxiety and with hope. That is all.”
Ben felt that he could have seized the professor’s hand and kissed it, but he knew he would quite break down, and the thought of such weakness shamed him. All he did was to again huskily exclaim:
“Thank you, sir – thank you!”
The September air seemed again filled with mellow sweetness as he hurried in happy relief from the academy. With the touch of a passing breeze, the maple trees of the yard waved their hands gayly to him, and in the distance beyond the football field Lake Woodrim dimpled and laughed in the golden sunshine.
“One chance more!” he exultantly murmured. “One chance more, and I’ll make the most of it.”
CHAPTER VI.
INTO THE SHADOWS
As he hastened from the yard and turned down the street, he saw several boys assembled beneath a tree in a fence-corner near the roadside. They were laughing loudly at something that was taking place there. On the outskirts of the little gathering he saw the thin-legged figure of Spotty Davis, who was smoking a cigarette and grinning as he peered over the heads of those in front of him.
Ben would have hurried past, but he suddenly stopped in his tracks, checked by the shrill, protesting voice of a child in distress. At the sound of that voice, he turned quickly toward the boys beneath the tree and forced his way among them, pushing some of them unceremoniously aside.
What he saw caused a fierce look to come to his face and his freckled cheeks to flush; for in the midst of the group was Hunk Rollins, a look of vicious pleasure on his face, holding little Jimmy Jones by the ear, which he was twisting with brutal pleasure, showing his ugly teeth as he laughed at the tortured lad’s cries and pleadings.
“Oh, that don’t hurt any!” the bullying fellow declared, as he gave another twist. “What makes ye holler? It’s only fun, and you’ll like it when you get used to it.”
A moment later Ben reached the spot and sent the tormentor reeling with a savage thrust, at the same time snatching the sobbing cripple from him.
“You miserable coward!” he cried, hoarse with anger.
The cripple gave a cry and clung to him. “Don’t let him hurt me any more, Ben!” he pleaded. “He’s pulled my hair an’ my nose, an’ ’most twisted my ear off. I was comin’ to meet you to tell you I ketched a squirrel in the trap.”
In sullen silence the watching boys had fallen back. Ben was facing Hunk Rollins, and in his eyes there was a look that made the bully hesitate.
“Now you’ll see a fight,” said one of the group, in an awed tone. “Hunk will give it to him.”
Rollins had been astonished, but he knew what was expected of him, and he began to bluster fiercely, taking a step toward Stone, who did not retreat or move.
“Who are you calling a coward? Who are you pushing?” snarled the low-browed chap, scowling his blackest, and assuming his fiercest aspect, his huge hands clenched.
“You!” was the prompt answer. “No one but a coward and a brute would hurt a harmless little cripple.”
“You take care!” raged Hunk. “I won’t have you calling me names! I want you to understand that, too. Who are you? You’re nothing but the son of a jail-bird!”
“Go for him, Hunk!” urged Spotty Davis, his voice making a whistling sound through the space left by his missing teeth. “Soak him a good one!”
“I’ll soak him if he ever puts his hands on me again,” declared Rollins, who was desirous of maintaining his reputation, yet hesitated before that dangerous look on Stone’s face. “I don’t care to fight with no low fellow like him.”
“Hunk’s scared of him,” cried one of the boys, and then the others groaned in derision.
Stung by this, the bully roared, “I’ll show you!” and made a jump and a swinging blow at Ben. His arm was knocked aside, and Stone’s heavy fist landed with terrible violence on his chin, sending him to the ground in a twinkling.
The boys uttered exclamations of astonishment.
With his fists clenched and his uncomely face awesome to look upon, Ben Stone took one step and stood over Rollins, waiting for him to rise. It was thus that Prof. Richardson saw them as he pushed through the gathering