Part 42 (2/2)
”Well, I wasn't scared, was I?” challenged Dutcher.
Hen's eye roved until it rested on d.i.c.k's face.
”I don't know whether you were, or not,” Prescott replied soberly. ”I had too much of my own alarm on hand to notice just how you were acting.”
”Well, I wasn't scared,” Hen a.s.serted vehemently. ”And I'd like to see any one dare to say that I was.”
”How did you come to get invited with d.i.c.k's crowd, anyway?” asked Hoof Sadby.
”I wasn't--just exactly--invited,” hesitated Hen Dutcher. ”But I was going through the forest when the big snowstorm came up, and----”
”And you made Prescott's crowd invite you into the cabin?” pressed Spoff Henderson.
”Ye-es,” claimed Hen reluctantly.
”What have you got to say about all this yarn, d.i.c.k Prescott?” called Wrecker Lane.
”Why, from all we've heard,” d.i.c.k answered dryly, ”I don't see any need of adding anything to Hen's story of events. He seems capable of telling all about it himself.”
”And Hen really was brave when Mr. Fits was around?”
”He says so, doesn't he?” inquired d.i.c.k.
Several laughs answered this question, and Hen began to fidget.
”I wonder what has become of Fits, anyway?” suggested Ned Allen.
”We saw him here in Gridley, not ten minutes ago,” broke in Dave Darrin.
”We notified the police, too.”
”Is that right?” demanded a dozen boys at once.
”Yes,” nodded d.i.c.k.
”And Fits knocked d.i.c.k down,” said Harry Hazelton, ”but,” continued he, ”maybe it was that Dutcher boy that he was really looking for.”
Hen's face became very pallid and his jaw dropped. He didn't look the hero that he had been claiming to be a minute before. Most of the boys in the crowd began to laugh.
”I've a good mind to tell the crowd that Hen really came out to the forest to help Fred Ripley's crew against us,” whispered Harry in Prescott's ear.
”Don't you do it,” d.i.c.k warned him sternly. ”We don't have to blab. Give Hen Dutcher a little time and he'll let it all out himself, without meaning to do it.”
”Sa-ay, weren't--weren't you stringing me about--Mr. Fits?” Hen questioned.
”Say, you fellows--hustle!” breathed Greg excitedly, as he joined the crowd. ”There's Mr. Fits over at the corner opposite. There--he's turning and running down Abbott Street!”
Like a shot the crowd of boys wheeled and was off in chase. But Hen didn't go with them. Toby Ross, who brought up the rear, saw young Dutcher turn and speed homeward as fast as his legs would carry him.
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