e his scout. The next day she blundered. That Friday was burned
into Piggy Pennington's memory with a glowing brand.

[Illustration: _The red-headed Pratt girl_.]

The trouble occurred in this way: On the Friday following Piggy's
black Monday, the King of Boyville, decided to resort to an heroic
measure. In his meditative moments Piggy had made up speeches
addressed to his Heart's Desire wherein he had proposed reconciliation
at any sacrifice save that of honor. Twice during those four days he
had stood by his Heart's Desire during recess, while they had looked
out at the play-ground. But the words next to his heart had sputtered
and bubbled into nothing on his lips. He could only snap chalk at
the young gentlemen in the yard below him, in a preoccupied way,
and listen to his Heart's Desire rattle on about the whims of her
fractions and the caprices of her spelling-lesson. Friday noon,
Winfield Hancock Pennington took a header into the Rubicon. In the
deserted school-room, just after the other youngsters had gone to
dinner or to play, Piggy, with much wiggling of his toes, with much
hard breathing, and with many facial contortions, wrote a note. He
gave it to the Pratt girl to deliver. When the first bell was ringing
that noon, Piggy was piling up the primary urchins in wiggling,
squealing piles at "crack the whip." During the fifteen minutes
that followed, he was charging up and down the yard, howling like a
Comanche, at "pull-away." But run as he would, yell as he would, and
wrestle as he would, Piggy could not escape the picture that rose in
his mind of a boy wearing his features and using his body, writing the
note that he had written. When dismembered words and phrases from that
note came to his mind on the play-ground, the quaver of terror that
rose in Piggy's whoop was not dissembled. Sometimes fear froze his
vitals, then a flush of self-abasement burned him with its flames. And
all the time he knew that the Pratt girl had that note. He almost
hoped that an earthquake would swallow her with it before she could
deliver it. When Piggy came straggling in, hot, sweaty, and puffing,
just as the teacher was tapping the tardy-bell, a wave of peace swept
over him. His Heart's Desire was not at her desk. He knew that he
had still a few moments' reprieve.

[Illustration: _He could only snap chalk in a preoccupied way and
listen to his Heart's Desire_.]

[Illustration: _Piggy was piling up the primary urchins in wigglin