know?"

"I overheard a conversation, one night, between your son and Tip
Scammon."

"What was the substance of that conversation?" pressed the lawyer.

"I don't quite see how I can tell you, sir," Dick responded slowly
and painfully. "I'm not a tale bearer. I don't want to come
here and play the tittle-tattle on your son."

"I respect your reluctance," nodded Lawyer Ripley. "But let me
put it to you another way. I am the boy's father. I am responsible
for his career in this world, as far as anyone but himself can
be responsible. I am also seeking what is for the boy's best
good. I cannot act intelligently unless I have exact facts.
Both my son and Scammon are too stubborn to tell me anything.
In the cause of justice, Prescott, will you answer me frankly?"

"That word, 'justice,' has an ominous sound, sir," Prescott answered.
"It is generally connected with the word punishment, instead
of with the word mercy."

"I suspect that my son has been your very bitter enemy, Prescott,"
said the lawyer keenly. "I suspect that he has plotted against
you and all your chums. Would you now try to shield him from
the consequences of such acts?"

"Why, sir, I think any boy of seventeen is young enough to have
another chance."

"And I agree with you," cried the lawyer, a sudden new light shining
in his eyes. "Now, will you be wholly frank with me if I promise
you that my course toward my son will be one that will give him
every chance to do better if he wants to?"

"That's an odd bargain to have to make with a father," smiled
Dick.

"It _is_," admitted Lawyer Ripley, struck by the force of the
remark. "You've scored a point there, Prescott. Well, then,
since I _am_ the boy's father, and since I want to do him full
justice on the side of mercy, if he'll have it---will you tell
all of the truth that you know to that boy's father?"

Dick glanced around at his chums. One after another they nodded.
Then the High School pitcher unburdened himself. Tip Scammon
sat up and took keen notice. When Dick had finished with all
he knew, including the tripping with the pole, and the soft-soaping
of the sidewalk before his home door, Tip was ready to talk.

"I done 'em all," he admitted, "includin' the throwin' of the
brickbats. The brickbats was on my own hook, but the pole and
the soft soap was parts of the jobs me and Fred put up between
us."

"Why did you throw the brickbats on your own hook?" asked Lawyer
Ripley s