"Well, it was Banbury, and he's going to leave, isn't he?" argued Frank.
"Yes; but I said that one of us would go the worst licked boy in Bellwood. I mean to keep my word."
Remonstrances were in vain. With a grim, resolute face, Dean Ritchie took up his post at the entrance to the academy, pacing up and down and waiting for his chance to have another interview with Banbury.
It never came. Some of Banbury's crowd informed their leader of what was waiting for him, and Banbury managed to sneak out of the school by the rear, and reached the depot at Bellwood and was on his way home before Ritchie found out that he had escaped.
"Well, let him go. A good riddance," commented Ritchie, when he was informed of the fact. "His crowd needs a further cleaning out, though. I suggest a law and order vigilance committee. There's going to be a rooting up of all the cads and sneaks around here, if I have my way. This is a decent school; we've got a grand old fatherly president, and the fellow who can't have fun without meanness has got to leave, that's all."
"A box, you say?" observed Frank Jordan one day, as Bob Upton came up calling.
