Toby’s suspicions were confirmed the next morning. On the way back from chapel he fell in with Sid Creel. Sid’s eyes were twinkling merrily as he joined arms with Toby and fell into step. “Did you hear about Roy Frick?” he demanded in a hushed but joyous voice.

Toby shook his head. He thought he knew what was coming, however.

“Some one beat him up,” said Sid, “beat him up beautifully! I haven’t seen him, but that’s what Orlie Simpson says. He’s in his room and won’t come out, and Orlie says he’s a sight!”

“When?”

“Last night. That’s all I know. Maybe it’s unkind to chortle, Tucker, but he did need it, didn’t he?”

“Maybe he did,” answered Toby gloomily.

“Well, what’s your trouble?” Sid observed him in surprise. “You sound as if you were sorry for him!”

“Frick? No, I was only thinking that if there was any trouble about it—whoever did it——”

“Oh, he’s not likely to tell, I guess,” Sid chuckled. “Probably he will say he fell downstairs or something! Well, see you later. Thought you’d be interested in hearing the sad news. So long!”

After a two o’clock recitation Toby returned to Number 12 to leave his books before going to the field and found a gray card awaiting him. Toby had seen gray cards before and knew what they meant, but this time his conscience was fairly untroubled and he wondered a good deal as he read the printed form:

“The Principal desires to see Tobias Tucker in the School Office before 6 p.m.”

Even the clearest conscience will experience qualms on receipt of such a document, and Toby sat down, card in hand, and asked himself what it portended. It might be that bothersome Latin, although just of late it hadn’t been going half badly and his instructor had even given him an approving word but a day or two since. Of course it was conceivable that a student might be summoned to the Office on some matter not concerned with misdemeanors or derelictions. For instance, Toby told himself, Doctor Collins might want to ask his advice regarding the administration of Yardley Hall School!

Well, anyhow, he reflected presently, he had until six to keep the appointment, and meanwhile it was getting close to practice time, and whatever the matter might be it could wait. So he kicked off his shoes in favor of a pair of rubber-soled “sneakers” and donned his oldest jacket and set forth.

If troubles never come singly, as they say, the same may be said of surprises. Toby’s second surprise that day came when the whistle had put an end to a hard-fought battle with First Team in which he had again kept the quarter-back position throughout. Possibly the fact that Frick was not on hand may have had something to do with that, for Rawson and Stair had been left well behind in the race for supremacy. In any case, Toby put in forty minutes of actual playing and ran his team well, although no score came to the Second to-day. Walking back to the bench for his sweater, he heard his name called. Coaches Lyle and Burtis were standing together nearby and it was Mr. Burtis who had spoken. Toby joined them.

“You know Mr. Lyle, Tucker?” asked the Second Team coach. Wonderingly Toby shook hands. “Mr. Lyle thinks he needs you on the First,” continued Mr. Burtis. “Sorry to lose you, Tucker, but we’re almost through, and I guess you may be able to help out over there.”

Toby looked bewildered. “You mean you want me—that I’m to go to the First Team, sir?”

“Yes, Tucker, that’s the idea,” answered the First Team coach. “As you know, we’ve lost Curran for the season. We still have a couple of good quarters in Noyes and Winfield, but I’ll feel safer with another to fall back on. I can’t promise you much glory, Tucker, for you may not be needed this season. Perhaps all you’ll get is a lot of hard work, my boy, but you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that you’re doing your bit for the School. Anyhow, there’s next year to look forward to. And I dare say that, if you take hold the way I expect you to, you’ll get your letter in the Broadwood game. Well, you report to me to-morrow, will you?”

“Yes, sir, thanks!”

“Good!” Mr. Lyle shook hands again as though to seal the bargain, and then Mr. Burtis shook hands in a way that conveyed the idea that he was very pleased for Toby’s sake, and Toby escaped. Most of the First and Second Team fellows had gone on ahead and he had the path pretty much to himself on the way to the gymnasium. And he was glad, because he wanted to think. He was a First Team man! That was wonderful, but it was also disquieting. Suppose that by some strange and unforeseen combination of events he was called on to play against St. John’s, or even Broadwood! Gee, that would be pretty fierce! He guessed he just couldn’t do it! No, sir, he’d be ill or something. Playing on the Second was one thing and running up against a big team like St. John’s was quite another. He would make a horrible mess of things, probably, and die of disgrace! Then the comforting thought came to him that there wasn’t the least chance of his getting into action in either of the remaining contests, that all he would be required to do would be to substitute now and then in practice. It would be pretty hard work, of course, but it would be worth while. Even to be numbered among the First Team was a proud privilege and cheap at any cost of labor. And there was also the alluring possibility that he would get in for a minute or two at the last of the big game, long enough to win the right to wear the big blue Y!

He remembered Frick then and wondered if he would have been chosen had Frick been out to-day. His modesty didn’t prevent his suspecting that his work had pleased the coach better than Frick’s during the last week or so, and he hoped that Frick’s absence from practice to-day was not the reason for the choice falling where it had. But he couldn’t be certain as to that, and in consequence he found no temptation to be “swell-headed.”

It wasn’t until he had dressed and was leaving the gymnasium with Sid Creel and Frank Lamson and one or two more that he remembered that summons to the Office. Remembering, his heart sank. Suppose something—he couldn’t think what it might be—but suppose something had gone wrong and he was to learn that this new and wonderful good fortune was to be denied him! Of course, that was perfect rot, for he hadn’t done anything! Just the same he’d feel better when that conference with the Principal was over.

The School Secretary waved him silently toward the inner office a few minutes later and Toby confronted Doctor Collins. There was nothing formidable about the Principal, but to-day Toby’s spine experienced the sensation of becoming suddenly liquefied, for Doctor Collins fixed a kind but stern look on him as he swung about in his chair.

“Ah, Tucker! Be seated, please.” The Doctor removed his glasses, held them between him and the light from the broad windows, seemed satisfied with their clarity and replaced them astride his nose. “One of our fellows was set on last night by two other boys, Tucker, and badly hurt. Perhaps you know him?”

“Roy Frick, sir? I know him a little. We’re—we were on the Second Team together.”

“And you had heard of his—ah—injuries?”

“Yes, sir, Sid Creel told me this morning.”

“I see. Well, I’ve sent for you, Tucker, because Frick tells a strange story of the event. At least, I find it strange. Perhaps you can throw some light on it. According to Frick, he was returning from the village last evening at about nine o’clock, perhaps a little after nine, and just inside the main gate at the foot of the Prospect two boys jumped out from the trees and seized him. That is to say, one boy seized him and the other—ah—administered punishment. It appears to have been rather a brutal affair, brutal and cowardly. You agree with me?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Toby troubledly. He had made up his mind by now that no matter what happened he would not tell on Tubb.

“Yes. Now here is the strange—ah—feature of the story. Frick tells us that the boy who punched and otherwise maltreated him was you, Tucker.”

There was a moment of silence. Then: “Me?” gasped Toby.

The Principal nodded. “Yes, he says so. He declares that he saw you well enough to recognize you, although the spot is a fairly dark one. However, there is the possibility that he was mistaken. Doubtless you can account for your time at that hour, Tucker.”

“Why, yes, sir! Of course I can! I wasn’t anywhere near the gate! I wasn’t even outside Whitson! Besides, I’d have no reason to do it, Doctor!”

“No? I gathered from Frick that there was a sort of feud existing between you. However, that isn’t of consequence now. I’m very glad indeed that you are in a position to disprove his accusation. Where were you at that time, Tucker, and with whom?”

“Between nine and——”

“Well, between nine and half-past, let us say. Frick thinks the time was perhaps nine-ten or nine-fifteen.”

“I was in my room in Whitson, sir. I was doing some geometry.”

“Well occupied,” answered the Principal with a smile. “And your roommate was with you, I presume?”

“Why, no, sir, he wasn’t,” stammered Toby. “Arnold was at a football conference.”

“Oh!” Doctor Collins sounded disappointed. “Then between nine and, say, a quarter-past nine you were quite alone? Did any one come into your room about that time?”

“No, sir.” Toby’s heart sank. “I think it was a little after eight when I came down from the third floor, and I studied until—I’m not just certain, but I think it was about a quarter-past, sir.”

“Where were you on the third floor?”

“I went up to see George Tubb. He rooms in 31.”

“But that was, you say, shortly after eight. At what time did your roommate return?”

Toby hesitated. Arnold had been in the room when he got back from that second visit to Number 31, but how long he had been there Toby hadn’t asked. Finally: “He was there a little before ten, sir.”

“Well, between the time you finished studying and his return where were you, Tucker?”

Toby was prepared for that question. If he owned to having gone back to Tubb’s room the Principal would probably suggest that Tubb be called on to verify the statement, in which case it was more than likely that Tubb’s absence from his room at the time when Frick was set upon would become known. Perhaps, since Tubb was evidently not thought of in connection with the affair, that was not dangerous, but to Toby it seemed to offer a clew that any one would seize on. Toby’s reply came without hesitation.

“I never left Whitson all the evening, sir, not for a moment,” he said earnestly. “I was in the building from the time I came back from practice until I went to chapel this morning.”

“I see. Well, I wish you had some one who could vouch for that, Tucker. I think you are truthful, my boy, and that Frick made a mistake, but I have no right to accept your word above his. We’ll let the matter rest overnight. Perhaps you will think of some one who can testify as to your whereabouts between nine and nine-thirty. Can you come to me again at——” the Doctor referred to a memorandum pad on the desk—“eleven-thirty to-morrow?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well, do so. I’ve no doubt we can find a solution of the mystery between us. Good afternoon, Tucker.”

Toby returned to Number 12 uneasy but not seriously troubled. It was nonsense to suppose that Frick would persist in his silly story in the face of his, Toby’s, denial, or that, even if he did, the Doctor would hold the accused guilty on such slim evidence. Just the same, he felt none too kindly toward George Tubb. Suppose the Principal did believe Frick finally and—Toby frowned. “Gee, I’d get bounced maybe!” he muttered. “Anyhow, they wouldn’t let me play. Oh, well, Tubb will just have to ’fess up in that case and take his medicine!”

The thought that Tubb might refuse to do anything of the sort occurred to him, but Toby put it resolutely aside. Tubb wasn’t that sort, he assured himself. Whatever faults Tubb might have, at least he was square.

Toby said nothing to Arnold or any one else that evening of what was on his mind most of the time. He considered going up and telling Tubb how matters stood, but he couldn’t see that anything was to be gained by that and so he didn’t. At half-past eleven the next forenoon he went back to the Office. Roy Frick, still bearing unmistakable signs of his beating, was there before him. Doctor Collins got to business at once.

“Tucker, Frick says that he recognized you perfectly the night before last. That is so, Frick?”

Frick nodded, glancing at Toby from discolored and still swollen eyes. “Yes, sir. I saw him plainly twice. I couldn’t see the other fellow very well, because he got me from behind. I just know that he was tall and kind of slim. But I saw him all right.” Frick nodded toward Toby.

“What do you say, Tucker?”

“Why, I can’t say anything, sir,” answered Toby helplessly, “except that he’s wrong. I wasn’t outside Whitson once that evening.”

The Doctor looked thoughtfully from one to the other. At last: “You say, Frick, that there has been some sort of quarrel between you and Tucker?”

“Yes, sir, sort of. He—he knocked me down one day when I hadn’t done anything——”

“Nothing but bounce a football off my be—off my head! And I didn’t knock you down, and you know it. You tried to hit me and I gave you the shoulder and you upset. Besides, I didn’t think any more about that.”

“Is there any one else who holds a grudge against you, Frick?” asked the Principal.

“No, sir, not that I know of.” Then, catching Toby’s look and mistaking its warning for an accusation, he qualified the statement. “Maybe Tubb has it in for me a bit, but I know it wasn’t he.”

“Tubb?” asked the Doctor. “Who is Tubb?”

“George Tubb, sir. He’s on the First Team. We had—he thought I did something to him intentionally when we were playing one day.”

“And you didn’t?”

“Not intentionally, sir.”

“And you’re certain the fellow who pummeled you was not Tubb?”

“Yes, sir. Tubb is thin, and this fellow was thickish and had red—had hair like Tucker’s.”

“I see. Have you found any one, Tucker, who can confirm what you told me yesterday as to your presence in your room between nine and half-past?”

“No, sir, there isn’t any one.” Frick allowed himself the luxury of a grin while the Principal was not looking, but it didn’t last long. It still hurt him to move his mouth.

“Well, I don’t know,” said the Principal finally in tones almost as helpless as Toby’s. “It sounds to me as if there might be what you fellows would call a ‘catch’ in this business, but on the evidence I don’t see but what I’ll have to hold you responsible, Tucker. If you know anything bearing on the matter that you haven’t told me I think it would be well to mention it, because, to be frank with you, I consider this attack on Frick a particularly brutal and underhand affair meriting severe punishment.”

Toby blinked but was silent. After a moment the Principal turned toward Frick again. “From what you have told me I think it would be well for you to be a little more careful in the future of your behavior toward your fellows. I’m afraid you have a faculty for making trouble, my boy. Should anything more of this sort reach my ears I shall be strongly inclined to hold you partly to blame. That’s all for now. Good morning.”

Frick withdrew and the Doctor removed his glasses and polished them deliberately and thoughtfully. At last, replacing them, he asked gently: “Do you know who attacked Frick, Tucker?”

Toby hesitated. After all, he didn’t know, for Frick’s description surely exonerated Tubb. So he shook his head and answered, “No, sir.”

“But you suspect some one?” the Principal insisted.

“I—I’d rather not answer, sir.”

“Even if I tell you that a severe punishment awaits the—ah—convicted person?”

Toby shook his head again. Doctor Collins sighed.