d up the hateful satchel and
the pair passed out of hearing of four young freshmen who had
hidden near to learn what the mystery of the satchel meant.
It was not long, either, before the further joke had become known
to a great many of the students.

CHAPTER II

DICK TAKES UP HIS PEN

Dick had no sooner ventured out on the street after dinner than
he encountered the news of Mrs. Cantwell's meeting with her husband.

But Dick did not linger long to discuss the matter. His pockets
now contained, in place of pennies, a few banknotes and many dimes,
pennies and nickels, amounting in all to thirty-six dollars.
He was headed for "The Blade" office to settle with Mr. Pollock.

"I think I can tell you a little story now, that may be worth
a paragraph or two," Dick announced after he had counted out the
money and had turned it over to the editor.

"You played a little joke on your new and not wholly popular principal,
didn't you?" Mr. Pollock asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Yes; has the thing reached you already?"

"I don't know the whole story of the joke," Mr. Pollock replied,
"but perhaps I can tell you one side of it that you don't know."

Thereupon the editor described Mr. Cantwell's visit to the bank.
"Now, I've got a still further side to the story," Dick continued,
and repeated the story told by the freshmen of how Mrs. Cantwell
also had carried the money to the bank, and then, still carrying
it, had waited for her husband at the school gateway.

Editor Pollock leaned back, laughing until the tears rolled down
his cheeks.

"I'm sorry for the good lady's discomfiture," explained the editor,
presently. "But the whole story is very, very funny."

"Now, I guess you know all the facts," finished Dick Prescott,
rising.

"Yes, but I haven't a single reporter about." Then, after a pause,
"See here, Prescott, why couldn't you write this up for me?"

"I?" repeated Dick, astonished. "I never wrote a line for publication
in my life."

"Everyone who does, has to make a start some time," replied Mr.
Pollock. "And I believe you could write it up all right, too.
See here, Prescott, just go over to that desk. There's a stack
of copy paper there. Write it briefly and crisply, and, for delicacy's
sake, leave out all that relates to Mrs. Cantwell. No use in
dragging a woman into a hazing scrape."

Dick went over to the desk, picking up a pen. For the fist three
or four minutes he sat staring at the paper,