and Benny was fast making
up his mind that he would tell rather than have his friend do it, when
up stood Bert Sharp and said,

"Mr. Morton, I was there."

"Bravo, Sharp!" exclaimed the teacher. "Grayson, you may take your
seat. Sharp, step to the front. Now, boys, who is man enough to stand
beside Sharp?"

"I am," piped Benny Mallow, and he almost ran in his eagerness.

"It's no use," whispered Will Palmer to Ned Johnston, and the two boys
went to the front together; then there was a general uprising, and a
scramble to see who should not be last.

"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Morton, looking at the culprits and then about the
school-room; "I believe you're all here. I'm proud of you, boys. You did
a shameful thing in attacking a harmless man, but you have done nobly by
confessing. I can not let you off without punishment, but you will
suffer far less than you would have done by successfully concealing your
fault. None of you are to go out at recess next week. Now go to your
seats. Sharp, you may take any unoccupied desk you like. After this I
think I can trust you to behave yourself without being watched."

The boys had never before seen Sharp look as he did as he walked to a
desk in the back of the room and sat down. As soon as the bell was
struck for recess Grayson hurried over to Sharp, and said,

"You helped me out of a terrible scrape, do you know it?"

"I'm glad of it," said Sharp. "And that isn't all; I wish I could think
of something else to own up to."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

THREE YOUNG HAWKS.

BY F. M. M.

One bright summer afternoon Bob and I slipped away from the other boys
as soon as school was out, and went gayly down the road that led to the
big bridge.

We were going birdnesting, and were determined to add something handsome
this time to the collection of eggs that we had been gathering since
spring.

The bobolinks knew us perfectly well; and you would have thought by the
way they rose out of the meadows on each side of the road, and sang as
if they were too happy for anything, that they were delighted to see us.
Not a bit of it. Their singing was meant to attract our attention, and
give the Mrs. Bobolinks time to glide through the tall grass, and then
rise up so far away from their nests that we would not know where to
look for them. We were not after their eggs, however, for we had all the
bobolinks' eggs we wanted, carefully blown and laid away in our
collection. Sharp as Mr. Bobol