eart."

Dick stared at him through the darkness with burning eyes. "Then what
happened?" he cried in a low voice.

"I dunno exactly, Harrie," Burton answered, speaking very slowly.
"Suddenly I just found that I was thinking of you."

"Of me?" There was awe in the exclamation.

"And then it was all clear. I had to square myself with you. Suddenly I
knew that that was what would wipe out that Lie and give me a fresh
start. It was like a sort of revelation. You see, Harrie, I knew that
you thought I was pretty fine, and you just had to be set straight."

"I--I haven't changed my mind at all about you," said Dick Harrington
timidly. "And you won the game after all."

Bill Burton leaned over the younger boy. His hand groped for Dick's
shoulder and clutched it.

"I didn't win the game," he whispered tensely. "The game wasn't really
played at Chancellor's Hill at all. It was played in the algebra class.
It was lost when I lied, and it was won a minute later when you told the
truth. And I guess I'm pretty glad you told the truth."

"So am I," murmured Dick very softly.

They both breathed deeply. It had been a notable victory.

* * * * *

Next morning, between breakfast and Sunday service, Dick Harrington
surreptitiously borrowed his roommate's safety razor, and shaved with
shining eyes.

FOOTNOTE:

[K] Reprinted from "The Boy Scouts' Year Book." Copyright, 1918, by D.
Appleton and Company.

[Illustration]

XII.--Story of the Bandbox

_By Robert Louis Stevenson_

UP to the age of sixteen, at a private school and afterward at one of
those great institutions for which England is justly famous, Mr. Harry
Hartley had received the ordinary education of a gentleman. At that
period he manifested a remarkable distaste for study; and his only
surviving parent being both weak and ignorant, he was permitted
thenceforward to spend his time in the attainment of petty and purely
elegant accomplishments. Two years later, he was left an orphan and
almost a beggar. For all active and industrious pursuits, Harry was
unfitted alike by nature and training. He could sing romantic ditties,
and accompany himself with discretion on the piano; he was a graceful
although a timid cavalier; he had a pronounced taste for chess; and
nature had sent him into the world with one of the most engaging
exteriors than can well be fancied.

A fortunate chance and some influence obtained for Harry, at th