The High School Left End | Page 7

open to
competitive examination. All the fellows who want to go to West Point
get together, at the call, and are examined. The fellow who comes off
best is passed on to West Point to try his luck."
"And you think you can prove that you're the brightest fellow in the
district?" laughed Dave good-humoredly.
"There are to be two chances, and I think I can prove that I'm one of the
two brightest to apply. And Dave!"
"Well?"
"Why don't you go in to prove that you're the other brightest fellow.
Just think! West Point! And the Army for a life career!"
"I think I'd rather scheme to go to the Naval Academy, and become an
officer of the Navy," returned Dave slowly. "The big battleships appeal
to me more than does the saddle of the cavalryman."
"Go to Indianapolis?" muttered Dick, in near-disgust. "Well, I suppose
that will do well enough for a fellow who can't get to West Point."
"Now, see here," protested Dave good-humoredly, though warmly,
"you quit talking about Indianapolis. That's a favorite trick with fellows
who are cracked on West Point. You know, as well as I do, that the
Naval Academy is at Annapolis. There's a vacancy ahead for Annapolis,
too."
"Oho! You've been thinking of that?" demanded Dick, again looking
into his chum's eyes.
"Yes."
"Yes; if I can come out best in a competitive examination of the boys of
this district."
"Two secrets, then---yours and mine," grinned Prescott. "However, it'll
be easier for you."

"Why?"
"There aren't so many fellows eager to go to the Naval Academy. It
doesn't draw as hard as the Army does."
"The dickens it doesn't!" ejaculated Dave Darrin.
"No; the Navy doesn't catch young enthusiasm the way the Army does.
You won't have so many fellows to compete with as I shall," said Dick.
"I'll have twice as many---three times as many," flared Darrin. "The
Naval Academy is the only real and popular school in the United
Service."
"Well, we won't quarrel," laughed young Prescott. "When the time
comes we'll probably find smarter young fellows ahead of us, headed
for both academies."
"If you do fail on West Point-----?" quizzed Dave.
"If I do," declared Dick, with a very wistful emphasis on that "if," "then,
after getting through High School I'll probably try to put in a year or
two of hard work on 'The Blade,' to help my parents put me through
college. They're anxious to make me a college man, and they'd work
and save hard for it, but I wouldn't be much good if I didn't try to earn a
lot of the expense money. One thing I'm resolved upon---I'm not going
to go through life as a half-educated man. It is becoming more true,
every year, that there's little show for the man with only the
half-formed mind."
Then the two turned back to the subject that had brought them out on
this September night---the disappearance of Banker Theodore Dodge.
"In a minute or two we'll be in sight of the river bend," announced
Darrin.
"There it is, now," nodded Dick, slowing down the horse and gazing
over yonder. "Some one is there, and looking hard for something."

"Yes; I make out a couple of lanterns," assented Dave. "Well"---as
Dick pulled in the horse---"aren't you going to drive over there?"
"That's what I want to think about," declared young Prescott. "I want to
go at the job the right way---the way that real newspapermen would
use."

CHAPTER III
DICK STUMBLES ON SOMETHING
A few moments later Dick Prescott guided the horse down a shaded
lane. "Whoa!" he called, and got out.
"What, now?" questioned Darrin, as his chum began to hitch the horse
to a tree.
"I'm going to prowl over by the bend, and see who's there and what
they are doing."
Having tied the horse, Dick turned and nodded to his friend to walk
along with him.
"You know Bradley told us," Prescott explained, "that the police do not
know that Dodge's disappearance has leaked out to the press. Most
folks in Gridley know that I write for 'The Blade.' So I'm in no hurry to
show up among the searchers. I intend, instead, to see what they're
doing. By going quietly we can approach, through that wood, and get
close enough to see and hear without making our presence known."
"I understand," nodded Darrin.
Within two or three minutes the High School reporter and his chum had
gained a point in the bushes barely one hundred and fifty feet away
from where two men and a boy, carrying between them two lanterns,
were closely examining the ground near the bank. One of the men was
Hemingway, who was a sort of detective on the Gridley police force.

The other man was