The Chums of Scranton High at Ice Hockey | Page 7

none other

than Hugh's late visitor, Nick Lang!
"Oh, they've caught him, it seems, just like those awful police did poor,
wicked Jean Valjean," Hugh muttered, thrilled by the sight; "and right
now they're fetching Nick back here, to ask me if he wasn't lying when
he said I'd sold or given him my skates!"
He realized that, undoubtedly, by some strange freak of fortune Thad
must have seen the other gloating over his prize; and recognizing the
skates, for they were well-known to him, he had beckoned to the
policeman who happened to be near by, with the result that Nick was
nabbed before he realized his peril.
Hugh had to decide quickly as to what he should do, for they were
coming in through the gate even now. Once again did the wonderful
story he had been reading flash before his mind.
"I must try it out!" he exclaimed suddenly, gripped by the amazing
coincidence between this case and that so aptly described by Hugo. "I
said I would if ever I had a chance. It worked miracles in the story;
perhaps it may in real life, Anyway, it's going to be worth while, and
give me a heap of enjoyment watching the result. So here and now I say
that I've sold my skates to Nick, and that they really belong to him at
this minute. But I reckon he'll be scared pretty badly when he faces me
again, expecting the worst."
Thad knew how to get in by the side door that opened on the back stairs;
so he did not waste any time in ringing the bell. Now Hugh could hear
heavy footsteps. They were coming, and the great test was about to be
made.
The door opened to admit, first of all, Thad, his face filled with burning
indignation, and his eyes sparkling with excitement. Close on his heels
the others also pushed into the room on the second floor, transformed
into a genuine boy's den by pictures of healthy sport on the walls,
besides college burgees, fishing tackle, a bass of three pounds that had
been beautifully stuffed by Hugh himself to commemorate a glorious
day's sport; and dozens of other things dear to the heart of a youth who

loved the Great Outdoors as much as he did.
Chief Wambold looked triumphant and grim. Nick fairly writhed in
that iron clutch, and his face had assumed a sickly sallow color; while
his eyes reminded Hugh of those of a hunted wild animal at bay, fear
and defiance struggling for the mastery.
"Stand there, you cub!" snarled the police officer, as he gave Nick a
whirl into the room, closing the door at the same time, and planting his
six-foot-five figure against it, to prevent such a thing as escape.
It was quite a tableau. Hugh believed he would never forget it as long
as he lived. But Thad, it appeared, was the first to speak.
"Hugh, this skunk has gone and beat you after all!" he cried, pointing a
scornful finger at the glowering Nick, who was eyeing Hugh hungrily,
as if trying to decide whether or not the other would tell Chief
Wambold to lock him up as a thief. "I chanced to see him pull
something out that he had been hiding under his coat, and recognized
your nickel-mounted skates. So I beckoned to Chief Wambold, and told
him about it; he made Nick come back here to face you, and confess to
the theft."
Nick growled something half under his breath, that sounded like:
"Didn't steal 'em, I tell you; I bought the skates fair and square from
Hugh here. You're all down on me, and won't listen to a thing I say;
that's the worst of it."
The tall head of the Scranton police force held up something he had
been carrying all the while.
"Here's the skates he had, Hugh," he went on to say. "Thad tells me
they are your property. He even showed me your initials scratched on
each skate. Take a good look at the same, and let me know about it,
will you, before I lug this sneak off to the lock-up. I reckon he's headed
for the Reform School this time, sure!"

At that Nick grew even more sallow than before, if such a thing were
possible; and the fear in his eyes became almost pitiable.
Hugh, meaning to make a straight job of his idea, calmly looked the
skates over. He knew full well how Nick was watching his every action,
trying to hug just a glimmer of hope to his heart that, perhaps, Hugh
might be merciful, and let him off, as the skates were now once again
in his possession. The shadow of the Reformatory loomed up
dreadfully close to Nick Lang