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 his way whistling. Bristow and Praska walked on together in silence.

"Mr. Ballinger's lawyer," Bristow observed at last.

Praska said nothing.

"Did you hear Carlos Dix tell him he thought they'd put it over?"

Praska nodded.

"They held their voices down; they didn't think anybody'd catch what they said. It would be a nice thing for Mr. Ballinger if he could get rid of all those lots in a lump, wouldn't it? What kind of Northfield man is Carlos Dix anyway?"

Praska wet his lips. "You aren't sure"

"Oh, rats! I'm not stupid. I can smell something cheesy when it's right under my nose. What's Carlos Dix doing, talking big about his love for the school and then using us to pull Mr. Ballinger's chestnuts from the fire?"

"I don't know," Praska answered with an effort. Then, in a voice of misery he added, "I wish I did know."

"You always did make too much of a hero of him," said Bristow.

"I believe," was the report that came from Mr. Rue, "that it is entirely proper for the students to use the auditorium for a meeting to tell the needs of the school to the public."