Page:The spirit of the leader (IA spiritofleader00heyl).pdf/273

 talk of school loyalty seemed a string of empty, shallow words.

He brooded the matter all the way home. The evening newspaper lay on the front porch flung there by the carrier as he passed. Praska carefully strove to undo it without tearing, from the mysterious, tight-binding fold which carriers somehow achieve; then he smoothed out the front page, his hands moving absently. And there, for the second time that afternoon, his eyes were caught by words for which he had not looked. One quick survey of the headlines, and he started feverishly to read the story:

Praska lowered the newspaper and leaned