The Chums of Scranton High at Ice Hockey | Page 6

shuffled away, as though meaning to leave the room. When
Hugh looked up he was half-way through the door, and turning to say
with a sneer:
"I ain't going to forget this on you, Hugh Morgan, believe me. I thought
I'd give you a chanct to smooth over the rough places between us; but I
see you don't want anything to do with a feller who's got the reputation
they give me. All right, keep your old skates then!"

With that he hurried down the stairs. And a minute afterwards Hugh,
happening to glance over to the table at the side of the room, made a
startling discovery. The skates had disappeared!

CHAPTER III
GIVING NICK A CHANCE
"Why, he cribbed them after all!" Hugh exclaimed, as he jumped to his
feet, and hurried over to the table, hardly able to believe his own eyes.
Something caught his attention. A dirty dollar bill and a fifty cent silver
piece lay in place of the skates. Then Nick had not exactly stolen
Hugh's property, but imagined that this forced sale might keep him
within the law.
Hugh at first flush felt indignant. He gave the money an angry look, as
though scorning it, despite the hard work Nick may have done and
sacrifices also made in order to build up that small amount.
"Why, the contemptible scamp, I'll have to set Chief Wambold after
him, and recover my skates!" he said, warmly for him. "Serve him right,
too, if this is the last straw on the camel's back, to send him to the
House of Refuge for a spell. He is a born thief, I do believe, and ought
to be treated just like one."
Hugh, aroused by the sense of injustice, and a desire to turn the tables
on the slippery Nick, even stepped forward to snatch up his cap, with
the full intention of hurrying out to see if he could overtake the thief;
and, if not, continuing on until he came to the office of the police force.
Then he stopped short with a gasp.
He had suddenly remembered something. Into his mind rushed the
details of a certain recent conversation in which he had indulged with
his closest chum, Thad Stevens. Again he saw the picture of that good
priest of the story, looking so benignly upon the wretched Jean Valjean,

brought into his presence with the valuable silver candlesticks and
spoons found in his possession, which he kept insisting his late host
had presented him with, however preposterous the claim seemed.
"Why, this is very nearly like that case, I declare!" ejaculated Hugh,
almost overcome by the wonderful similarity, which seemed the more
amazing because of the resolution he told Thad he had taken.
He dropped back into his seat, with the money still gripped in his hand.
He stared hard at it. In imagination he could see Nick, who never liked
hard work any too well, they said, busying himself like a beaver,
putting in coal for some neighbor, perhaps; or cleaning a walk off for a
dime. He must have done considerable work to earn that first dollar.
"Then after that," Hugh was saying to himself, "he sold a pair of his pet
pigeons, and I reckon he thinks a heap of them, from all I've heard said.
Yes, Nick must have wanted my old skates worse than he ever did
anything in all his life. And when I refused to sell them to him he just
thought he'd do the trading by himself. It's a queer way of doing
business, and one the law wouldn't recognize; but, after all, it was an
upward step for Nick Lang, when he could have taken the skates, and
kept the cash as well. This certainly beats the Dutch! What ought I to
do about it, I wonder? Of course, if I told the whole thing to mother, I
suppose she'd let me have the new skates ahead of time; or I could
borrow Kenneth Kinkaid's, because, after breaking his leg that way in
the running race he says he isn't to be allowed to skate a bit this winter.
But ought I let the scamp keep my skates?"
He mused over it for several minutes, as if undecided. Then the sound
of voices outside caught his attention. One seemed to be gruff and
official, another whining.
Hugh jumped up and stepped to a window. He could see down the
street on which the Morgan home stood. Three persons were in sight,
and hurrying along toward the house. One of these he recognized as his
chum, Thad, who must have returned from Hobson's mill-pond earlier
than he had expected. Another was the tall, attenuated Chief Wambold;
and the party whom he was gripping by the arm--yes, it was