The High School Pitcher Part 8

"I didn't," retorted Tip, stolidly.

"You _did_."

"I didn't."

"Tip," declared Dave, solemnly, "I won't call you a liar. I'll just remark that you and truth are strangers."

"I ain't interested in what you fellers got to say," flared Tip, sullenly. "And I don't like your company, neither. So jest skate along."

"We're not going to linger with you, Tip, any longer than seems absolutely necessary," promised Dave, coolly. "But what I want to say is this: If you make any more attempts to do d.i.c.k Prescott any harm our crowd will get you, no matter how far we have to go to find you. Is that clear?"

"I s'pose it is, if you say so," sneered young Scammon.

"We'll get you," pursued Dave, "and we'll turn you over to the authorities. One citizen like d.i.c.k Prescott is worth more than a million of your stamp. If we find you up to any more tricks against d.i.c.k Prescott, or against any of us, for that matter, we'll soon have you doing your second 'stretch,' as you have learned to call a term at the penitentiary. Tip, your best card will be to turn over a very new leaf, and find an honest job. Just because you've been in jail once don't go along with the notion that it's the only place where you can find your kind of company.

But whatever you do, steer clear of d.i.c.k Prescott and his chums.

I think you understand that. Now, go!"

Tip tried to brazen it out, but there was a compelling quality in the clear, steady gaze of Dave Darrin's dark eyes. After a moment Tip Scammon let his own gaze drop. He turned and shuffled away.

"Poor fellow!" muttered d.i.c.k.

"Yes, with all my heart," agreed Dave. "But the fellow doesn't want to get any notion that he can go about terrorizing folks in Gridley!"

CHAPTER V

RIPLEY LEARNS THAT THE PIPER MUST BE PAID

Scammon, however, knew one person in Gridley whom he thought he could terrorize. He started in promptly to do it.

At three the next afternoon young Scammon loitered under a big, bare oak on one of the winding, little-traveled streets that led from Gridley out into the open country beyond.

In summer it was a favorite thoroughfare, especially for young engaged couples who wanted to loiter along the road, chatting and picking wild flowers.

In winter, however, the place was usually deserted, being more than a mile out of the city.

As Tip lingered he caught sight of haughty Fred Ripley coming down the road at a fast walk. Fred looked both angry and worried.

Tip, as soon as he caught sight of the young fellow who imagined himself an "aristocrat," began to grin in his evil way.

A dull, sullen, red fired Fred's cheeks when he caught sight of the one who was waiting for him.

"Ye're most nearly on time," Tip informed the other.

"See here, Scammon, what in blazes did you mean by sending me a note like the one I got from you" demanded Fred?

Tip only grinned.

"What did you mean, fellow?" Ripley insisted angrily.

"I meant to get ye here, to let ye know what I had to say to ye,"

Scammon retorted.

"Why, confound you, fellow---" Fred began, stuttering a bit, but the other cut in on him in short fas.h.i.+on.

"None o' that to me, now, Fred Ripley. D'ye hear? Me an' you used to be pretty good pals, once on a time."

At this charge, Fred winced very plainly.

"And maybe we'll be pals, now, too," Tip pursued, with the air of one who believed himself to be able to dictate terms. "That is, for your sake, I hope we are, Ripley."

"What are you talking about? What do you want to see me about?

Come to the point in mighty few words," Ripley commanded, impatiently.

"Well, now, first-off, last year, before I went away for my health---"

Tip grinned in ghastly fas.h.i.+on 'ye hired me to do a certain job for ye. Right, so far, ain't I?"

"Possibly," a.s.sented Fred, coldly.

"Ye hired me to get hold of keys that could be used on one o'

the High School locker rooms," Tip went on, cunningly. "Ye hired me to steal some stuff from the coats o' the young gents that study there. Then ye hired me to break inter d.i.c.k Prescott's room and get the loot inter his trunk. Right, ain't I?"

Tip spoke a.s.sertively, making no effort to keep his voice low.

"For goodness' sake don't shout it all over four counties," protested Fred Ripley, glancing apprehensively about him. His face was paler, now, from uneasiness.

"Oh, I ain't afraid about anyone hearing me," Tip went on, unconcernedly. "D'ye know why, Fred, my boy? Because I done my stretch for the trick, and there ain't nuthin' more comin' to me on that score. If _you're_ 'fraid, jest go an' do yer stretch, like I did, an' then ye won't care who hears or knows!"

Tip laughed cunningly. Fred's face darkened. He squirmed, yet found himself afraid to show anger.

"So I dropped ye that note, tellin' ye to come here at three this aft'noon," Scammon continued. "I told ye I hoped ye'd find it convenient to come, an' hinted that if ye didn't, ye might wish later, that ye had."

"I'm here," retorted the Ripley heir. "Now, what do you want to say to me?"

"I'm broke," Tip informed Ripley, plaintively. "Stony! Understand?

I hain't got no money."

"You don't expect me to furnish you with any?" demanded Fred, his eyes opening wide in astonishment. "I paid you, in full, last year."

"Ye didn't pay me fer the stretch I done, did ye?" demanded Tip, insolently. "How much did ye pay me for keeping my mouth closed, so you wouldn't have to do your stretch?"

Fred winced painfully under that steady, half-ugly glance of the other.

"And now," continued Scammon, in a half-hurt way, "ye think it's hard if I tell ye that I want a few dollars to keep food in my insides."

"You've got your father," hinted Fred.