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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43796 ***</div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" height="600"
     alt="cover" title="cover" />
</div>


<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 386px;">
<a id="image01" name="image01">
  <img src="images/image01.jpg" width="386" height="600"
       alt="WITH GLARING EYES HE MADE A RUSH FOR THE CROWD OF STUDENTS."
       title="WITH GLARING EYES HE MADE A RUSH FOR THE CROWD OF STUDENTS." />
</a><br />
<div class="caption"><a href="#Page_184">WITH GLARING EYES HE MADE A RUSH FOR THE CROWD OF STUDENTS.</a></div>
</div>




<hr class="chap" />
<h1>Tom Fairfield’s<br />
Schooldays</h1>

<p class="noi author">Or</p>

<p class="noi subtitle">The Chums of Elmwood Hall</p>

<p class="p6 noic">BY</p>

<p class="noi author">ALLEN CHAPMAN</p>

<p class="noi works">AUTHOR OF “TOM FAIRFIELD AT SEA,” “TOM FAIRFIELD IN<br />
CAMP,” “THE DAREWELL CHUMS SERIES,” “THE<br />
BOYS OF PLUCK SERIES,” ETC.</p>

<p class="p4 noic">ILLUSTRATED</p>

<p class="p4 noic">NEW YORK<br />
<span class="author">CUPPLES &amp; LEON COMPANY</span><br />
PUBLISHERS</p>




<hr class="chap" />
<div class="adpage">
<div class="adbox">
<p class="noi subtitle">BOOKS FOR BOYS</p>

<p class="noi author">BY ALLEN CHAPMAN</p>

<p class="p2 noic"><b>TOM FAIRFIELD SERIES</b></p>

<p class="noic">12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.</p>


<p class="noi hang">
TOM FAIRFIELD’S SCHOOLDAYS<br />
Or, The Chums of Elmwood Hall</p>

<p class="noi hang">
TOM FAIRFIELD AT SEA<br />
Or, The Wreck of the <i>Silver Star</i></p>

<p class="noi hang">
TOM FAIRFIELD IN CAMP<br />
Or, The Secret of the Old Mill</p>

<p class="noi hang">
TOM FAIRFIELD’S PLUCK AND LUCK<br />
Or, Working to Clear His Name</p>


<p class="p2 noic"><b>THE DAREWELL CHUMS SERIES</b></p>

<p class="noic">12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.</p>

<p class="noi">
THE DAREWELL CHUMS<br />
THE DAREWELL CHUMS IN THE CITY<br />
THE DAREWELL CHUMS IN THE WOODS<br />
THE DAREWELL CHUMS ON A CRUISE<br />
THE DAREWELL CHUMS IN A WINTER CAMP
</p>


<p class="p2 noic"><b>BOYS OF PLUCK SERIES</b></p>

<p class="noic">12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.</p>

<p class="noi">
THE YOUNG EXPRESS AGENT<br />
TWO BOY PUBLISHERS<br />
MAIL ORDER FRANK<br />
A BUSINESS BOY’S PLUCK<br />
THE YOUNG LAND AGENT
</p>

<p class="p2 noic"><span class="smcap">Cupples &amp; Leon Co. Publishers, New York</span></p>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noic">Copyrighted 1913, by<br />
<span class="smcap">Cupples &amp; Leon Company</span></p>

<hr class="r15" />
<p class="noic"><span class="smcap">Tom Fairfield’s Schooldays</span></p>

<p class="right">Printed in U. S. A.</p>




<hr class="chap" />
<h2>CONTENTS</h2>


<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
<col style="width: 20%;" />
<col style="width: 70%;" />
<col style="width: 10%;" />
<tr>
  <th class="smfontr">CHAPTER</th>
  <th class="tdl"></th>
  <th class="smfontr">PAGE</th>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">I.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">Tom Hears Strange News</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">II.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">The Drifting Boat</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">13</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">III.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Off for Elmwood Hall</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">20</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">IV.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Tom Makes an Enemy</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">27</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">V.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Tom Finds a Chum</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">39</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">VI.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">An Angry Professor</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">47</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">VII.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">Bruce is Worried</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">55</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">VIII.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">The Call of the Pigskin</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">62</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">IX.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Tom’s Touchdown</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">68</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">X.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">A Coward’s Trick</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">78</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XI.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">A Class Warning</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">87</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XII.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">A Runaway Iceboat</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">98</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XIII.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">The Skating Race</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">107</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XIV.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">Winning Against Odds</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">113</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XV.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">More Trouble</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">119</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XVI.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">Tom’s Daring Proposal</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">128</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XVII.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">Defiance</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">135</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XVIII.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">The Strike</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">144</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XIX.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">Negotiations End</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">151</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XX.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">Prisoners</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">157</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XXI.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">The Escape</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">168</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XXII.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">The Burning Effigy</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">177</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XXIII.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">Tom’s Find</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">183</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XXIV.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">The Saving of Bruce</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">191</td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td class="tdrt">XXV.</td>
  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">A Missing Professor</a></td>
  <td class="tdrb">201</td>
</tr>
</table>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>




<p class="noi title">TOM FAIRFIELD’S
SCHOOLDAYS</p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a><br />
<small>TOM HEARS STRANGE NEWS</small></h2>


<p>“Hi, Tom, give us a ride in your boat; will
you?”</p>

<p>“Take us across to the other side of the
river.”</p>

<p>The request and the suggestion came from two
lads who were walking toward a small boathouse,
on the edge of a rather wide river. The youth to
whom they spoke looked up from a small motorboat,
the engine of which he was cleaning.</p>

<p>“What do you want to go over to the other
side of the river for, Dick Jones?” asked Tom
Fairfield, of the lad who had made that suggestion.</p>

<p>“Got to go on an errand for dad, and it’s too
far to walk away around by the bridge. Take me
over, will you?”</p>

<p>“I will if I can get this engine to run.”</p>

<p>“What’s the matter with it?” asked Will
Bennett, the companion of Dick Jones. The two
were chums, and friends of Tom Fairfield, all of
them living in the village of Briartown. Tom,
whose parents were quite well off, had recently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>
bought a motorboat, not very large, but of sufficient
size to enable him to take out several of
his chums. “What’s the matter with the engine?”
asked Will again, as he and his chum
walked out on the small dock, at the end of which
the motorboat was made fast.</p>

<p>“Matter with it? What isn’t the matter with
it?” asked Tom in some disgust. “The cylinder
is flooded with oil, that’s what’s the matter, and I
don’t know how many more things I’ll find
wrong before I get through. It’s all that Dent
Wilcox’s fault.”</p>

<p>“How’s that?” asked Dick, as he and his
chum watched Tom trying to drain some of the
lubricating oil out through a small valve.</p>

<p>“Oh, I took Dent out for a ride last night,
and as I was in a hurry to get up to the house
when I got back, I asked him to shut off the oil
cups. But it’s like everything else he does&mdash;he’s
too lazy, almost, to breathe. He didn’t turn off
the oil, and all that was in the cups ran into the
cylinder during the night. I’ve tried for the last
half hour to get the engine started, but she won’t
run.”</p>

<p>“That’s too bad,” spoke Will sympathetically.</p>

<p>“I’ll never trust Dent to do anything for me
again,” went on Tom. “I ought to have seen to
the oil cups myself, and I will next time. Wait
until I catch him!”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>

<p>“There he goes now!” exclaimed Dick, pointing
to a lad crossing a field some distance away.
“Shall I run and tell him you want to see him?”</p>

<p>“No, it isn’t worth while,” replied Tom.
“Besides, he’s so lazy he wouldn’t walk down
here. But I’ll talk to him like a Dutch Uncle
when I do see him. Now let’s see if the engine
will work. If it does, I’ll give you fellows a
ride.”</p>

<p>Once more Tom turned the flywheel over several
times, but, though the engine coughed,
wheezed and spluttered, as though in apology at
having such poor health, it did not start.</p>

<p>“Say, you haven’t got your forward switch
on!” suddenly exclaimed Will. “There’s no
spark.”</p>

<p>“No wonder!” cried Tom. “I remember
now, I had it on, and then, as I didn’t want to
get a shock when I was cleaning the spark plug, I
shut it off. Then I forgot to put it on again.
Hop in, and close the switch, Will, and then maybe
we can start. I guess most of the oil is out,
now.”</p>

<p>The two chums got in the boat, and Will, making
his way forward, closed the connection.
Then Tom, who had remained near the motor,
again turned over the flywheel. This time there
was an explosion, and the engine worked
rapidly. The propeller churned the water, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>
the painter strained as the boat moved forward.</p>

<p>“Hurray!” cheered Dick.</p>

<p>“That’s the stuff!” exclaimed Will, at the
prospect of a ride.</p>

<p>“Yes, I guess it’s all right now,” assented
Tom. He shut off the engine by pulling out a
switch near it, and added: “Wait until I get
some more oil from the boathouse, and I’ll be
with you.”</p>

<p>As Tom started up the dock toward the little
building, which he had built, with the help of his
chums, to house his boat, he saw, coming along
the road that ran near the river, a young man
in a small auto runabout. The youth was well
dressed, but on his face was a look of sadness
and worry, in contrast, Tom thought, to the
cheerful expression he should have worn.</p>

<p>“If I had a natty little car like that, I wouldn’t
look so glum,” reasoned Tom, as he opened the
boathouse door. The runabout came nearer, and
the lone occupant of it, bringing it to a stop opposite
Tom, called out:</p>

<p>“Is there any place around here where I can
hire a boat for a row of an hour or so?”</p>

<p>“Not near here,” replied Tom.</p>

<p>The young man’s eyes rested on Tom’s own
trim rowing craft.</p>

<p>“Is that one to hire?” he asked, nodding toward
it.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>

<p>“No,” replied our hero. “But if you’d like
to take it I’ve no objections. I’ve got a motorboat,
and, if you like, I’ll take you for a ride in
that. Did you want to go anywhere in particular?”</p>

<p>“No, I just want to get off by myself, and
worry over my troubles,” and the newcomer
laughed, but the laugh had no merriment in it.</p>

<p>“Troubles?” questioned Tom, now that the
other had given him an opening. “You don’t
look as if you had troubles.”</p>

<p>“Well, I have&mdash;lots of ’em. I’ve acted like a
blamed chump, and now I’ve got to pay the
piper. A man is trying to make trouble for me,
and I guess he’ll succeed, all right. I’m too easy,
that’s the trouble. But I’m not going to bother
you with my woes.”</p>

<p>“Do you want to come for a ride with me?”
asked Tom. “I’m going to take a couple of
friends across the river.”</p>

<p>“No, thank you. I don’t want to seem stiff,
but really I’d be better off by myself for a time.
So, if you really mean it, and will lend me your
boat, I’ll go for a row alone. I was out on a
little country run&mdash;I live in Camden&mdash;and when
I saw this river, looking so calm and peaceful, I
just felt as though I’d like to row on it, and forget
my troubles.”</p>

<p>“You may take the boat, and welcome,” went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
on Tom, looking at the other, and forming a liking
for him at once.</p>

<p>“Thanks. My name is Bennington&mdash;Bruce
Bennington. I haven’t a card, or I’d give you
one.”</p>

<p>“My name’s Tom Fairfield,” spoke our hero,
and the two shook hands.</p>

<p>“Know how to row?” asked Tom, as the newcomer
started toward where the small boat was
moored.</p>

<p>“Yes, I’m on the crew at Elmwood Hall. I’m
a senior there,” Bruce explained.</p>

<p>“Oh!” exclaimed Tom, for he had often
heard of that place of learning. “That’s quite
a school,” he added. “I’ve often wished I could
go there.”</p>

<p>“Yes, it’s quite a place,” admitted Bruce Bennington.
“And we have a pretty fair crew.
You won’t want your boat right away?”</p>

<p>“No. And the reason I asked if you could
row was because there are some stiff currents in
the river. You’re welcome to come in the motorboat
if you like, though it isn’t much of a craft.”</p>

<p>“No, thank you, I’d rather row off by myself,
and do some good hard thinking. I’ve got to go
back to school as soon as the fall term opens,
which will be in about two weeks, and I’d like to
find a way out of my troubles before then, if I
can.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>

<p>“It’s too bad,” spoke Tom sympathetically,
for he had, somehow, come to form a strange and
sudden liking for this lad. Tom looked into the
other’s frank and pleasant face, and really wished
he could help him.</p>

<p>“Well, I guess I’ll have to squirm out of it the
best I can,” went on Bruce. “A good row, and
a rest in the cool shadows, will calm me down,
maybe, and I’ll try to make some plans before I
have to get back to the grind. I’ll take good
care of your boat.”</p>

<p>By the manner in which he entered it, and
took up the oars, Tom saw that Bruce knew how
to handle the craft. The auto runabout had been
left near the dock, and a little later the senior was
sculling down the stream.</p>

<p>“Who was that?” asked Tom’s chums, as he
rejoined them.</p>

<p>He explained briefly, as he filled the empty oil
cups, and soon he and the two lads were puffing
across the river in the motorboat. The rowing
craft had disappeared around a bend in the
stream.</p>

<p>“Troubles, eh?” mused Will. “I don’t believe
I’d let much trouble me if I went to a
cracker-jack school like Elmwood Hall, and had
a runabout like that.”</p>

<p>“Me either,” added Dick.</p>

<p>“Well, you never can tell,” spoke Tom, as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>
thought of the sad look on the senior’s face&mdash;a
look that had returned several times during the
talk, in spite of the frequent smiles. “He seems
like a nice sort of chap.”</p>

<p>“Did he say what his trouble was?” asked
Will.</p>

<p>“No, and I didn’t ask him. Said some man
had it in for him. Look out where you’re steering,
Dick.”</p>

<p>“Why, what’s the matter?” asked Dick, who
had requested Tom to let him take the wheel for
a time.</p>

<p>“There’s a big rock somewhere out here,”
went on the owner of the motorboat. “I must
mark it with a buoy, or I’ll hit it myself some
night. Keep more to the left.”</p>

<p>Dick spun the wheel over, and the boys rode
on, talking of many things.</p>

<p>“Where do you think you’ll go to school this
fall?” asked Will of Tom.</p>

<p>“Oh, back to the Academy, I suppose.”</p>

<p>“Why, you graduated from there in June!”</p>

<p>“I know I did, but there’s going to be a post-graduate
class formed, I hear. Going to take up
first year college work, and dad talks of sending
me. I wish I could go to Elmwood Hall, though,
or some place like that.”</p>

<p>“So do I!” cried Will.</p>

<p>“Boarding school’s the place!” affirmed
Dick, with energy. “I’d like to go to one.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>

<p>They had reached the other side of the river
now and Dick Jones, who had been sent by his
father to take a message to a lumberman, started
off on his errand, Will and Tom promising to
wait for him in the motorboat. When Dick returned
on the run, Tom yielded to the request of
the two lads, and took them for a run up the
stream.</p>

<p>“That is, unless you have something to do,
Tom,” spoke Will.</p>

<p>“No, I’m going to have all the fun I can before
school opens, that’s all. And it will do the
engine good to run a bit and get rid of the oil that
chump Dent let run in.”</p>

<p>The boys were out in the motorboat for about
two hours, and, on nearing the dock on the return
trip, Dick remarked:</p>

<p>“That fellow’s auto is gone.”</p>

<p>“Is my boat there?” asked Tom, who was
tinkering with the motor of his craft.</p>

<p>“Yes,” replied Will, who was steering.</p>

<p>“All right; I guess that fellow got tired of
rowing, or maybe he thought of a way out of his
troubles, and came in.”</p>

<p>When Tom had made fast his motorboat, he
went to the rowing craft to see if it was in good
condition. He saw a piece of paper on one of the
seats, held down by a little stone. Picking it up
he read:</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>

<div class="blockquot">

<p class="noi">“Many thanks for the use of your boat. I
had a fine row, and I feel better, though I’m as
much up a tree as ever. I hope to see you again,
sometime. If ever you are near Elmwood Hall,
look me up.</p>

<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Bruce Bennington.</span>”</p>
</div>

<p>“That was nice of him,” remarked Will, as
Tom showed him the note.</p>

<p>“And he didn’t damage your boat any,” spoke
Dick.</p>

<p>“No, he knows how to handle ’em&mdash;he rows
on the Elmwood Hall crew,” said Tom. “Well,
so long, fellows. I’m going for a long run to-morrow,
if you’d like to come.”</p>

<p>“Sure!” they chorused.</p>

<p>But Tom was not destined to take that long
run on the morrow, for, when he reached his
home, not far from the river, he heard strange
tidings, that made quite a difference in his
plans.</p>

<p>As Tom entered the house he saw his father
holding a letter, that he had evidently been reading
to his wife, and discussing with her. There
was a look of concern on the faces of Mr. and
Mrs. Brokaw Fairfield.</p>

<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Tom, quickly.
“Any bad news?”</p>

<p>“No, not exactly bad news, Tom,” replied his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
father. “But it is news, and it’s going to make
quite a difference to us&mdash;to you also.”</p>

<p>“What is it?”</p>

<p>“You remember that property in Australia,
Tom, which was left to me by an uncle; don’t
you?” asked Mr. Fairfield.</p>

<p>“Yes,” replied our hero, for he had often
heard the inheritance mentioned. “What about
it?”</p>

<p>“Well, I’ve been trying to dispose of it, and
have the money from the sale sent to me here,
but it seems that some trouble has arisen, and I’ve
got to go there to straighten it out. I tried to do
it by correspondence, but I have just received a
letter from a lawyer in Sydney, saying that my
personal presence is needed, or I may lose it all.
So&mdash;”</p>

<p>“Your father and I have decided to go to
Australia!” suddenly broke in Mrs. Fairfield,
anxious to get the worst over. “Oh, Tom, I
don’t want to go at all, and leave you behind, but
I’ve got to!”</p>

<p>“What!” cried Tom. “Can’t I go? You
two going to Australia, and leaving me alone
here? Oh, say, now&mdash;”</p>

<p>“Wait, Tom,” cautioned his father with a
smile, “we’re not going to leave you alone, exactly.
Besides, there is your education to think of, and
we may be gone for many months.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p>

<p>“Oh, but I say&mdash;” began Tom again.</p>

<p>“Now, dear son,” began his mother in a gentle
voice, “we have it all planned out for you. You
are to go to boarding school while we are away.”</p>

<p>“Boarding school!” Tom’s eyes began to
sparkle. After all, this might be as good as going
to Australia.</p>

<p>“Yes,” said his father, “and we have picked
out&mdash;”</p>

<p>“Elmwood Hall!” broke in Mrs. Fairfield,
unable to let her husband tell all the news.</p>

<p>“Elmwood Hall!” cried Tom, thinking of the
note in his pocket from Bruce Bennington.</p>

<p>“Yes,” spoke Mr. Fairfield, “though if you’d
rather go to some other place it may be arranged.
But your mother and I picked out Elmwood Hall,
and&mdash;”</p>

<p>“Elmwood Hall!” cried Tom again. “Say,
that’s all right. I’m satisfied! That beats
Australia. When are you going? When can I
start for Elmwood? Have you got a catalog
from there? Say, I’ve got something to tell
you!” and Tom, overcoming a desire to stand on
his head, pulled out the note Bruce had left in
his boat.</p>

<p>“Elmwood Hall!” exclaimed Tom again.
“This is the best ever!”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a><br />
<small>THE DRIFTING BOAT</small></h2>


<p>“What makes you so enthusiastic about Elmwood
Hall, Tom?” asked Mr. Fairfield, when
his son had somewhat calmed down. “I didn’t
know you knew much about it.”</p>

<p>“I don’t except what I’ve heard and read,
but it just happens that I met a fellow from there
to-day.” And Tom told of his talk with Bruce
Bennington, showing his parents the letter.</p>

<p>“Hum, that is rather odd,” spoke Mr. Fairfield.
“I wonder what his trouble could have
been? Bennington&mdash;Bennington. I’ve heard
that name before. Oh, I know; Mr. Bennington
is a millionaire manufacturer. That must be his
son, though if he’s in trouble I should think Mr.
Bennington would help him out.”</p>

<p>“Maybe it isn’t money,” spoke Tom. “But,
anyhow, I’m glad I’m going to Elmwood, and
maybe I’ll get chummy with Bruce Bennington,
though there’s not much chance, for he’s a
Senior, and I’ll be a Freshman.”</p>

<p>“I hope, if you can, that you’ll help him,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
said Mrs. Fairfield. “And oh, Tom, do you
think they’ll haze you?”</p>

<p>“If they do, I guess I can stand it,” replied
her son. “Everyone has to be hazed. I won’t
mind. But now tell me something about going to
Australia.”</p>

<p>“It’s going to be quite a trip,” said Mr. Fairfield,
“and one I wish I could get out of, but I
can’t. We’ll start as soon as we can, Tom.
We’re to go to San Francisco by train, and take
a steamer there. I’ll write at once, and make
arrangements for you to go to Elmwood Hall.
Your mother will see to getting what clothes you
need. Here is a catalog of the school.”</p>

<p>Tom eagerly looked the pamphlet over, while
his father went to his library to write some letters
and Mrs. Fairfield, not without some misgivings
as to what might happen to Tom at boarding
school, or to herself and her husband on their
long trip, went to look over her son’s wardrobe.</p>

<p>As I have explained, Mr. Fairfield was quite
well off, and had the prospect of more wealth.
He did not care to lose his Australian inheritance,
and, though the journey meant some trouble for
him, in that it would complicate his business affairs
at home, he decided to make it. He had
long promised his wife a trip abroad and now
was the chance for it, as they intended to come
home by way of Europe.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>

<p>Tom Fairfield was a tall, well built youth, fond
of all out-doors sports, and about as lively a lad
as you would care to meet.</p>

<p>He had lived in Briartown all his life, though
he had traveled extensively with his father and
mother, and knew considerable of the world.
He was an only son, a sister having died when
a little girl.</p>

<p>Tom had many friends in the village, where
his father’s silk factory was located, and our
hero took part in the scenes and activities of the
place. He had attended the Academy there, and
was one of the best football and baseball players.
He always had a liking for the water, and since
getting his motorboat, had been on Pine river
more often than ever. He had tried to get up a
crew at the Academy, but could not seem to interest
enough boys, or get them to subscribe the
necessary funds.</p>

<p>Tom had one or two enemies, too, chiefly because
he would not let them bully him, but they
did not worry him, for any lad of spirit is as
likely to have enemies as friends, and Tom had
plenty of the latter.</p>

<p>“Jove! To think that I’m really going to
Elmwood Hall!” Tom whispered to himself, as
he leafed over the catalog, and looked at the pictures
of the various buildings. “That’ll be great!
I wish I knew some of the fellows who were going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
there, but I guess I can soon get acquainted.
I wonder if I can pass the entrance examinations?”</p>

<p>He looked at the requirements for the Freshman
class, and noted that there was no study but
what he had had at the Academy.</p>

<p>“I guess I can do it,” he said.</p>

<p>There were soon busy days in the Fairfield
household.</p>

<p>Besides making arrangements for the voyage,
and getting their business affairs in shape to
leave, Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield had to arrange for
Tom’s stay at Elmwood. This was done by correspondence
and, about a week after Tom had
heard the news, he went to the school to take the
entrance examinations. He met a few lads in
like case, all rather miserable, and Tom felt a
feeling of pride as he walked about the campus,
and thought that soon he would be a student
there.</p>

<p>“That is, if I pass,” he mused. “That Latin
exam. was a bit stiff, and so were the maths.
Maybe the others will be easier. I hope so, anyhow.”</p>

<p>Tom’s hopes were realized, for on the second
day&mdash;the test extending over that time&mdash;he had
no difficulty in answering the entrance questions.
Then he went back home, to receive, a few days
later, word that he had passed, and would be
admitted to the Freshman class.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>

<p>“Wow!” he cried, as he read the formal announcement.
“That’s great! I’m going to tell
the boys!”</p>

<p>He rushed off to find Dick and Will, his most
particular chums. But, on visiting their houses,
he was informed that they had gone fishing on
the river.</p>

<p>“I’ll find ’em,” he said. “I know the fishing
hole. I’ll go down in my motorboat.”</p>

<p>He hurried back to the dock, and, as he
reached a point where he could look down to it,
he uttered an exclamation of dismay.</p>

<p>“My motorboat!” he cried. “It’s gone!
Some one has it! If it’s stolen&mdash;”</p>

<p>He broke into a run, and as he had a good view
of the river he saw his boat out in the middle of
the stream.</p>

<p>“Well, of all the nerve!” he cried. “Dent
Wilcox has taken my boat without asking me.
I’ll fix him!”</p>

<p>Then he noticed that the boat was not running
under her own power, but was drifting down
stream.</p>

<p>“Hi there, Dent! What’s the matter with
you?” Tom cried. “What did you take my
boat for? Why don’t you start up and run her
back here?”</p>

<p>The lazy lad addressed looked up from what
was evidently a contemplation of the stalled engine.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>

<p>“Start her going!” cried Tom. “Start the engine,
or you’ll be on the rocks!”</p>

<p>“I can’t,” yelled back Dent. “She’s stopped.”</p>

<p>“Crank her,” ordered Tom. “Turn the flywheel
over!”</p>

<p>Dent did so, but in such a lazy and slow fashion
that even from shore Tom could see that the
lad was not exerting himself enough. The wheel
needed a vigorous turn.</p>

<p>“Oh, put some muscle into it!” cried Tom.
“You’ll never get her going that way!”</p>

<p>“I’ve tried three or four times, and she won’t
go,” retorted Dent, leaning back against the gunwale,
and looking at the engine, as though a mere
glance would set it going.</p>

<p>“Keep on trying!” cried Tom. “Don’t you
see where you’re going? You’ll be on the rocks
in five minutes more! Can’t you even steer?
Next time you take my boat I’ll wallop you
good!”</p>

<p>“I didn’t think you’d care,” came the answer
over the stretch of water.</p>

<p>“Well, I do. Now you crank up!”</p>

<p>Dent Wilcox tried again, but his inherent laziness
was against him, and nothing resulted. The
boat was in the grip of the current, and was
rapidly drifting toward the dangerous rocks.</p>

<p>“By Jove! He’ll wreck my boat!” thought
Tom. “Say!” he cried desperately, “can’t you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
get that engine going somehow, and avoid the
rocks?”</p>

<p>“I guess there’s no gasolene,” retorted Dent.</p>

<p>“Yes, there is, the tank’s full.”</p>

<p>“Then the batteries have given out.”</p>

<p>“Can’t be. They’re new. Oh, you big chump,
to take out my boat when you don’t know how
to run her!” and Tom looked at his drifting
craft in despair.</p>

<p>“Can’t you come out and get me?” suggested
Dent, as he looked helplessly at the engine.</p>

<p>“Well, of all the nerve!” cried Tom. “But
I’ll have to, I guess, if I want to save my boat!”</p>

<p>He hurriedly cast off his rowing craft, jumped
in, and was soon pulling out toward the drifting
motorboat.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a><br />
<small>OFF FOR ELMWOOD HALL</small></h2>


<p>“Talk about lazy fellows!” murmured Tom,
as he bent to his oars, “that Dent Wilcox certainly
is the limit. He’s too lazy to row, so he
borrows my motorboat. Then he’s too lazy to
learn how to crank the engine, and too lazy to
turn the flywheel over hard enough. It’s a
wonder he ever got started, and when he does get
going he doesn’t take enough pains to look out
where he’s steering. If he wrecks my boat I’ll
make him pay for her.”</p>

<p>Tom cast a glance over his shoulder toward
his craft, and the sight of the boat nearer the
rocks made him row faster than ever.</p>

<p>“Why don’t you try to steer, or crank her?”
he yelled to Dent.</p>

<p>“What’s the use?” asked the lazy lad indifferently.</p>

<p>“Use? Lots of use? Do you want to go
on the rocks?”</p>

<p>“No, not exactly,” spoke Dent, and his voice
was quicker than his usual slow tones, as he saw
his danger. “But you’ll be here in a minute, and
you can run things.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>

<p>“Yes, that’s just like you,” retorted Tom.
“You want someone else to do the work, while
you sit around. But I’ll make you row back, and
pull the boat too, if I can’t get her going.”</p>

<p>“Oh, Tom, I never could pull this boat back.”</p>

<p>“You’ll have to,” declared our hero grimly,
“that is if the engine won’t run. Stand by now,
to catch my painter.”</p>

<p>Dent stood up in the stern of the drifting
motorboat, and prepared to catch the line Tom
was about to throw to him. Tom was near
enough to his motorcraft now so that the headway
and the current of the river would carry
him to her.</p>

<p>“I hope I can get that engine going,” he remarked
to himself, as he saw how dangerously
near he was to the rocks.</p>

<p>“Catch!” he cried to Dent, throwing the end
of his line aboard, and Dent, forgetting his usual
lazy habits, made a quick grab for the painter.
He reached it, took a turn around a cleat, and in
another moment Tom was aboard.</p>

<p>“Pull my rowboat closer up,” he ordered
Dent. “I’m going to have a try at the motor,
and if she doesn’t go, we’ll have to row out of
danger.”</p>

<p>He gave a quick look at the engine, and then
cried:</p>

<p>“Well, you’re a dandy!”</p>

<p>“What’s the matter?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>

<p>“You didn’t have the gasolene turned on.”</p>

<p>“I did so. Else how could I have run out
from the dock?”</p>

<p>“With what was in the carbureter, of course.
But when that was used up, you didn’t get any
more from the tank. You’re a peach to run a
motorboat! Don’t you ever take mine out
again!”</p>

<p>“I won’t,” murmured Dent, thoroughly
ashamed of himself.</p>

<p>With a quick motion Tom turned on the gasolene,
saw that the switches were connected, and,
with a turn of the flywheel, he had the motor
chugging away a second later.</p>

<p>“There you are!” he exclaimed, as he sprang
to the steering wheel.</p>

<p>“Glad I don’t have to pull in,” said Dent,
thinking of the work he had escaped.</p>

<p>“Well, it was a narrow squeak,” said Tom, as
he steered out of the way of the rocks, and then
sent his boat around in a graceful curve.</p>

<p>“How’d you come to take my boat?” asked
our hero, when he had a chance to collect his
thoughts.</p>

<p>“Oh, I just strolled down to the dock, and
saw it there. I heard you were out of town&mdash;taking
the Elmwood Hall examination&mdash;and I
thought you wouldn’t mind.”</p>

<p>“I did take the exams., and I passed,” spoke
Tom, his pride in this rather making him forgive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
Dent now. “I’ll soon be going there to
school, and I’ll have swell times. I came down
to tell Dick and Will that I just got word that
I’m to enter the Freshman class, when I saw you
had my boat. You want to be more careful after
this.”</p>

<p>“I will,” promised the lazy lad, as he settled
himself comfortably on the cushioned seats, and
watched Tom steer. The latter, after running
ashore, and tying up his rowboat, started for the
fishing hole, intending to look for his chums.</p>

<p>“Can’t I come along?” asked Dent, who had
not offered to get out, nor help Tom tie his boat.
“Take me along,” he pleaded. “If you go to
school I won’t get any more rides.”</p>

<p>“Well, you have got nerve!” laughed Tom,
and yet he felt so elated at the prospect before
him that he did not seriously protest. “First
you take my boat without permission, then you
nearly wreck her, and next you want to have an
additional ride. You have your nerve with you,
all right.”</p>

<p>“Might as well,” spoke Dent, lazily, as he
lolled back on the cushions. “If you don’t ask
for things in this world you won’t get much.”</p>

<p>“I guess that’s right,” agreed Tom. “You’ve
got more sense than I gave you credit for. But
crank that motor now. Let’s see if you can get
it going. You’ll have to work your passage, if
you come with me on this voyage.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>

<p>Dent turned the flywheel over, and after a few
attempts he did succeed in getting the engine to
go. Then Tom steered down to the fishing hole.
Dick and Will saw him coming, and called and
waved their welcome.</p>

<p>“Any luck?” asked Tom, as he ran his boat
close to shore.</p>

<p>“Pretty fair. Did you hear from Elmwood?”
asked Dick.</p>

<p>“Yes, just got word, and I passed. I’ll soon be
a Freshman. I wish you fellows were coming
along. Come on, get in, and I’ll tell you all about
it. You’ve got fish enough.”</p>

<p>His chums were glad enough to ride back, and
soon, with their fish, they were in the motorboat.
While Tom was showing them his letter from the
school, Dent managed, by a great effort, to steer
properly.</p>

<p>“How soon are you going there?” asked Will.</p>

<p>“In about a week. I hope I make some friends
there. I’m going to look up that Senior, Bennington.
He told me to.”</p>

<p>Talking with his chums of the prospects before
him, Tom was soon at his dock again, and
this time he locked his boat fast so that Dent
could not take it without permission.</p>

<p>“I’m going to let you two fellows run it while
I’m at Elmwood,” he said to Dick and Will,
much to their delight.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>

<p>The days that followed were busy ones. Mr.
and Mrs. Fairfield had much to do, and as for
Tom, he had, or imagined he had, so much to
take with him, that he thought he would need
three trunks at least. But his mother sorted out
his clothes, and reduced the number of his other
possessions, so that one trunk and a valise sufficed.</p>

<p>In the meanwhile arrangements were made for
Tom’s father and mother to sail for Australia.
Their railroad tickets had been bought, and passage
engaged on the steamer <i>Elberon</i>, which was
to sail from San Francisco.</p>

<p>“I’m giving you enough money to last you for
the term, Tom, I think,” said his father. “I
want you to have everything you need, but don’t
be wasteful. I will also leave a further sum in
the bank here to your credit, and you will have a
check book. But I want you to give me an account
of your expenditures.”</p>

<p>Tom promised, and felt rather proud to have
a bank account, as well as go to a preparatory
boarding school. His chums in Briartown envied
him more than ever.</p>

<p>At last the day for Tom to start came. His
parents were to leave two days later, closing up
their house for the fall, for it was early in
September.</p>

<p>Good-byes were said, Tom’s chums came in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
numbers to see him off, and with rather a tearful
farewell of his father and mother our hero
started for school, or rather, college, since Elmwood
ranked with upper institutions of learning
in conferring degrees.</p>

<p>“Be sure and write,” begged Tom’s mother.</p>

<p>“I will,” he said. “And you write, too.”</p>

<p>“Of course,” his mother assured him.</p>

<p>The train pulled in, Tom got aboard, and at
last he felt that he was really off. He waved his
last good-byes, and could not help feeling a little
lonesome even though so many pleasures lay before
him.</p>

<p>As he took his seat, while his chums cheered
and shouted “Rah, Rah, Elmwood!” after him,
Tom was aware that a lad across the aisle was regarding
him curiously.</p>

<p>This lad was of athletic build. He had red
hair, and a pleasant, smiling face.</p>

<p>“Are you going to Elmwood Hall?” he asked
Tom.</p>

<p>“Yes,” was the answer. “Do you go there?”
and then Tom saw that he need not have asked,
since he saw the pin of the college on the other’s
coat.</p>

<p>“I do, Burke’s my name&mdash;Reddy Burke they
all call me. I’m beginning my third year there.
Come over and sit with me, and we’ll have a talk.
Elmwood boys ought to be friendly.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a><br />
<small>TOM MAKES AN ENEMY</small></h2>


<p>Tom crossed the aisle of the lurching car, and
was soon sitting beside the red-haired youth who
had made such friendly advances.</p>

<p>“How did you know I was going to Elmwood?”
asked our hero, as a sort of opening.</p>

<p>“Easy enough. You’ve got the air of a fellow
going to college for the first time sticking out all
over you. Oh, no offense!” exclaimed Reddy
Burke as he saw Tom’s start. “It’s an honor
to start at Elmwood Hall. Lots of fellows
would like to, but can’t. I spotted you for a
Freshman right off the bat.”</p>

<p>“I suppose I do look a bit green,” admitted
Tom, with a smile.</p>

<p>“Oh, no more so than usual. Then, too, I
heard your friends giving an imitation of the
Elmwood yell, and that told me all I wanted to
know. I’m glad to meet you. I hope I see more
of you when we strike the school. Term opens
to-morrow and next day you know, and there’ll
be no end of fellows there. Opening day generally
lasts a week. I thought I’d go down a day
early, and get settled in my room.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>

<p>“That was my idea,” confessed Tom.</p>

<p>“Where are you going to put up?”</p>

<p>“I’ve got a room in Opus Manor. That
seemed a nice place, and I picked it out when I
came down for the entrance exams.,” replied
Tom.</p>

<p>“It is nice,” admitted Reddy Burke. “It’s
where all the Freshmen like to get, but usually
it’s so crowded that you have to go on the waiting
list. You’re in luck, Fairfield.”</p>

<p>“Glad you think so. Where do you room?”</p>

<p>“Oh, I put up with the rest of our crowd at
the Ball and Bat. That’s our fraternity house
you know.”</p>

<p>“Yes, I noticed it when I was down before.
It’s a beaut place, all right.”</p>

<p>“Pretty fair. We have some good times there.
You must come to some of the blowouts. I’ll send
you a card when we get settled, and you know
the ropes.”</p>

<p>“Thanks,” replied Tom gratefully. “And
now tell me all about Elmwood Hall.”</p>

<p>“Oh land! It would take a week!” exclaimed
the red-haired athlete. “There’s lots to tell
about it, but I guess you know the history of it
as well as I do, if you’ve seen a catalog.”</p>

<p>“Yes, but I mean tell me something about the
fellows, and the professors.”</p>

<p>“Well, the professors are no better nor worse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
than at other colleges, I suppose,” spoke Reddy,
with something like a sigh. “They all seem to
have exaggerated notions about the value of
Greek, Latin and mathematics, though I’ll be
hanged if I like ’em. Baseball and football for
mine, though I suppose if I’m ever to become a
lawyer, which dad seems to think I’m cut out
for, I’ll have to buckle down sooner or later,
and assimilate some of that dry stuff. It’s time
I begin, I reckon.”</p>

<p>“I should think so&mdash;if you’re in your Junior
year,” spoke Tom with a laugh.</p>

<p>“That’s right. Oh, I have done some boning,
and I haven’t cut lectures any more than the
rest of the team did. You simply <em>have</em> to cut
some if you play all the games, and I didn’t miss
any contests, you can make up your mind to that.
Most all of us at the Ball and Bat play either on
the diamond, or gridiron, or row on the crew. I
say though, maybe you’re that way yourself?”
and Reddy looked questioningly at our hero.</p>

<p>“Well,” admitted Tom, modestly, “I can row
a bit, and I like baseball. I’ve never played football
much. I wasn’t quite heavy enough for the
team at our Academy.”</p>

<p>“You look husky enough,” spoke Reddy, casting
a critical pair of blue eyes over his seatmate.
“You ought to try for the eleven down at Elmwood.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>

<p>“Maybe I will. Think I’d have a chance?”</p>

<p>“It’s too early to say, but have a try, anyhow.”</p>

<p>“Are any of the professors very savage?”
asked Tom.</p>

<p>“Only so-so. Doctor Pliny Meredith is head
master, I suppose you know.”</p>

<p>“Yes. How is he?”</p>

<p>“As full of learning as a crab is of meat in
the middle of August, but he’s not very jolly.
Rather stand-offish, and distant, though sometimes
he warms up. We call him ‘Merry’ because
he’s usually so glum. But he’s fair, and he
thinks Elmwood Hall the greatest institution
ever. To him a fellow’s word is as good as his
bond. It all goes on the honor system there. No
profs. at the exams., you know, and all that. You
have to be a gentleman at Elmwood.”</p>

<p>“Do the fellows live up to it?” asked Tom.</p>

<p>“Pretty much. There are one or two a little
off color, of course. But any fellow who would
lie to Merry wouldn’t stay long at Elmwood if the
fellows got on to it.</p>

<p>“Then, the rest of the profs. are about like
the average, except that I don’t mind admitting
that Burton Skeel is a regular grinder, and as
mean as they make ’em. He’s the Latin taskmaster
and maybe that’s why I hate it so.”</p>

<p>“Aren’t there any jolly professors?” asked
Tom, beginning to think that perhaps, after all,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
he wasn’t going to like it at Elmwood as much
as he had hoped.</p>

<p>“Oh, bless you, yes!” exclaimed Reddy. “I
was almost forgetting Live Wire. That would
never do.”</p>

<p>“Live Wire? Who’s he?”</p>

<p>“Professor Livingston Hammond. He’s fat
and jolly and he almost makes you like trigonometry,
which is saying a lot, and, as for solid
geometry, and conic sections, well, if anybody can
make them look like the comic sheet of a Sunday
newspaper it’s the Live Wire. You’ll like
him; all the fellows do. But he won’t stand for
any nonsense. You’ve got to come ‘prepared,’ or
he’ll turn you back to make it up after class.”</p>

<p>“I like maths.,” admitted Tom.</p>

<p>“Then you and the Live Wire will be friends
and brothers, I guess,” predicted Reddy.</p>

<p>“Tell me something about the fellows,” suggested
Tom. “I know one Senior, slightly.”</p>

<p>“You do? How’d you make his acquaintance?”</p>

<p>“He’s Bruce Bennington,” replied our hero,
as he told of the manner of their first meeting.</p>

<p>“That’s odd,” commented Reddy. “Bruce is
one of the nicest chaps in college. ‘Easy Money
Bennington’ we call him, ‘Easy’ for short,
though. He’s a good spender, and his own worst
enemy.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>

<p>“How’s that?” asked Tom. “I could see
that something was troubling him the day I met
him, but he wouldn’t say what it was.”</p>

<p>“No, that’s his way,” spoke the red-haired
athlete. “I mean that he’s impulsive. He’d do
anything for a friend, or an enemy too, for that
matter, and that often gets him into trouble. He
doesn’t stop to think, but he’s got a host of
friends, and everybody likes him, even old Skeel
I guess, for I’ve seen ’em together lots of times.”</p>

<p>“I wonder what his special trouble is now?”
speculated Tom.</p>

<p>“Give it up. Bruce will never tell until it’s
settled. He’s proud&mdash;won’t take help from any
one if he can help it. So you know him?”</p>

<p>“Well, I hardly can say I know him. He may
not want to keep up the acquaintance down here,”
spoke Tom.</p>

<p>“Oh, yes he will. Bruce isn’t that kind. Once
he meets you he’s always friendly, and, if he takes
a notion to you, why you couldn’t have a better
friend.”</p>

<p>Tom was glad to hear this, and he felt a warm
spot in his heart for the somewhat unhappy
Senior. He resolved to find out his trouble, if
he could, and help him if it were possible.</p>

<p>“Of course there are some mean and undesirable
chaps at Elmwood,” admitted Reddy. “Just
as there are anywhere, I guess, only I wouldn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
want to name any of ’em. You’ll find out who
they are, soon enough. But you just play straight
and they’ll soon let you alone. They may try to
pick a quarrel, and there are a few who are always
trying to get up a mill. Do you fight?”</p>

<p>“I box a little,” admitted Tom.</p>

<p>“Good, then you can take care of yourself if
it comes to a scrap, I suppose. But don’t get
into a fight if you can help it. Not that I mean
to run away, but it’s against the rules to fight,
and you don’t want to be suspended, though
there are more or less mills pulled off every
term.”</p>

<p>“I’ll fight if I have to; not otherwise,” spoke
Tom, quietly.</p>

<p>“Good. Say, you’ll think I’m trying to put it
all over you, and do the big brother act with
such advice; won’t you?”</p>

<p>“Not a bit of it,” replied Tom, stoutly. “I’m
glad to have you give me points.”</p>

<p>“All right then. I guess you’ll do. We’ve
got one funny character at the school&mdash;Demosthenes
Miller.”</p>

<p>“A student?”</p>

<p>“Land no. He’s our educated janitor. He’s
always around with a copy of the classics, or
some book on maths., and if he sees you getting at
all friendly he’ll ask you to help him translate a
passage, or work out a problem. He says he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
might as well be getting an education on the side
as long as he’s at college. He’s good fun, but
rather tiresome at times. Demy, we call him.”</p>

<p>“He must be odd,” agreed Tom.</p>

<p>“There! I guess I’ve told you all I know,”
spoke Reddy, with a laugh. “The rest you’ll find
out after you’ve been at the school a few days.
Now tell me something about yourself.”</p>

<p>Which Tom did, mentioning about his father
and mother going to Australia.</p>

<p>“That’s a trip I’d like to take,” said Reddy.
“Cracky, what sport! I love travel.”</p>

<p>The lads talked on various topics as the train
sped along. They were nearing Elmwood Hall,
which was located in the town of the same name,
on the Ware river. Several other lads, whom
Reddy pointed out to Tom as old or new students,
had meanwhile boarded the train. A number
greeted Tom’s seatmate as an old friend and our
hero was introduced to them. They greeted him
nicely enough, but talked to Reddy.</p>

<p>Soon the latter was deep in conversation about
the chances for a good football season, and Tom
did not like to break in, but listened with all his
might.</p>

<p>“Here we are, Fairfield,” said Reddy Burke,
at length. “Get your grip, and I’ll show you
the way to the Hall. Oh, I forgot, you’ve been
here before, though.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>

<p>“Yes, I can find my way up well enough,”
spoke Tom. “Don’t let me hold you back.”</p>

<p>“All right then. I’ll see you later. There’s
Hen Mattock up ahead. He was football captain
last year. I want to talk to him, so I’ll just run
on. See you again!” and with that Reddy rushed
off, to clap on the shoulder a tall, well-built lad,
who looked every inch an athlete. Tom gathered
up his belongings, gave his trunk check to an expressman,
and headed for Opus Manor.</p>

<p>This residence, or dormitory, was one of the
school buildings, located not far away from the
main hall and was “within bounds,” so that the
Freshmen, did they wish to spend an evening in
town, had to get permission, or else “run the
guard,” a proceeding fraught with some danger,
carrying with detection a penalty more or less
severe. It was the aim of the school proctor, Mr.
Frederick Porter, to thus keep watch and ward
over the first year students.</p>

<p>The others were allowed more liberty, or at
least they took it, for many of them lived in
fraternity houses, and some Seniors boarded in
private families in town. Most of the Seniors,
however, dwelt in a house near the Hall. It was
called Elmwood Castle, and Tom looked longingly
at it as he passed on his way to his own
more humble, and less distinctive, dormitory.</p>

<p>As Tom was ascending the steps, intending to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
report to the monitor in charge, and also seek out
the matron, he became aware of a student standing
on the topmost platform, looking down at
him. Beside him was another lad, and, as our
hero came up, one shoved the other against Tom,
jostling him severely.</p>

<p>Instantly Tom flared up. He could see that it
was done intentionally. His face flushed.</p>

<p>“What do you mean?” he asked quickly.</p>

<p>“Whatever you like to think,” was the reply
of the student whom Tom had first noticed.</p>

<p>“Well, I think I don’t like it,” retorted Tom
quickly.</p>

<p>“You’ll have to get used to it then; won’t he,
Nick?” and the lad who had done the shoving
appealed to his companion, with a sneering laugh.</p>

<p>“That’s what he will, Sam.”</p>

<p>“I won’t then!” exclaimed Tom, “and the
sooner you realize that the better.”</p>

<p>“Oh ho! So that’s the kind of talk, eh?”
sneered the one called Sam. “What’s your name,
Fresh?”</p>

<p>“Fairfield&mdash;Tom Fairfield&mdash;Fresh!” retorted
Tom, for he could see by the other’s cap
that he, too, was a first year lad.</p>

<p>“Well mine’s Heller&mdash;Sam Heller, Capital
‘S’ and capital ‘H,’ and don’t forget it. This
must be the fellow who’s got my room, Nick,” he
added.</p>

<p>“Probably,” replied Sam Heller’s crony, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
was Nick Johnson. “Yes, that was the name the
monitor mentioned, come to think of it.”</p>

<p>“How have I your room?” asked Tom.</p>

<p>“Because you have. I had the room last year,
and I told ’em to save it for me this term. But
you came along and snatched it up, so&mdash;”</p>

<p>“I took it because it was assigned to me,”
spoke Tom, and from the other’s talk he understood
that the lad was a Freshman who had not
passed, and who, in consequence, was obliged to
spend another year in the same grade. Perhaps
this made him bitter.</p>

<p>“Well, you’ve got my room,” grumbled Sam,
“and I’m going to get square with somebody.”</p>

<p>“You can get square with me, if you like,” said
Tom quietly, “though I told you I had nothing to
do with it. One thing, though, if you do any more
shoving I’ll shove back, and it won’t be a gentle
shove, either.”</p>

<p>“Is that a threat?” growled Sam.</p>

<p>“You can take it so if you like.”</p>

<p>“I will, and if you don’t look out&mdash;”</p>

<p>What Sam was going to say he did not finish,
for, at that moment, the monitor in charge of
Opus Manor came to the door, and the two who
had sought to pick a quarrel with Tom slouched
off across the campus.</p>

<p>“New student here?” asked the monitor, who
did not seem to remember Tom.</p>

<p>“Yes. I’m Fairfield.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>

<p>“Oh yes, I recall you now. Come, and I’ll
introduce you to my wife. She’s matron here.
Blackford is my name.”</p>

<p>“I remember it,” spoke Tom, who had met
the monitor when down for his examinations.</p>

<p>As the two were about to enter the building
Tom saw his new friend, Reddy Burke, hurrying
along, beckoning to him to wait.</p>

<p>He halted a moment, and the Junior ran up the
steps.</p>

<p>“I just saw you talking here to a couple of
students,” began the athlete, “and as I passed
them just now I heard Sam Heller say he was
going to get even with you. What happened?”</p>

<p>Tom told him and Reddy whistled.</p>

<p>“Why, what’s up?” asked our hero.</p>

<p>“Nothing, if you don’t mind it, only you’ve
made an enemy right off the bat. That Heller is
one of the few undesirables here. His crony,
Nick Johnson, is another. Heller is down on you
all right, though it isn’t your fault.”</p>

<p>“I don’t mind in the least,” spoke Tom.</p>

<p>“He’s one of the scrappers,” went on Reddy.
“Look out!”</p>

<p>“I can take care of myself,” replied Tom.
“Thanks, just the same,” and, as he followed
Monitor Blackford into the dormitory, he realized
that he had made an enemy and a friend in
the same day.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a><br />
<small>TOM FINDS A CHUM</small></h2>


<p>“This is the room assigned to you,” said the
monitor, pausing in a long corridor, after he had
introduced Tom to Mrs. Blackford. “It is one
of the best in the Manor, though I don’t quite
understand why you picked out a double apartment.”</p>

<p>“Is it a double one?” asked Tom in some surprise.
“I did not know it. As I was requested
in the circular I received, I indicated the section
of the building where I would like to be, and this
room was assigned to me. I supposed it was a
single one.”</p>

<p>“No, it is intended for two students, and I
suppose it was assigned to you by mistake. I’m
sorry, as it is too late to change now, since all the
reservations are taken, and&mdash;”</p>

<p>“Oh, I don’t want to change!” exclaimed
Tom quickly, as he entered the apartment shown
him by the monitor. He saw that there were two
beds in it, and that it was large and airy. “I’ll
keep this,” our hero added. “It’s fine.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>

<p>“Have you a chum who might like to share it
with you?” asked Blackford. “The expense
may&mdash;”</p>

<p>“Oh, I don’t mind that part of it,” said Tom.
“My father knew how much it was to cost, and
he did not object. I haven’t a friend yet&mdash;that
is, a Freshman friend&mdash;but I may find one.”</p>

<p>“There is one, a Sam Heller, who had this
room last term,” went on the monitor. “He
would doubtless be very glad to come in with
you.”</p>

<p>“I’m afraid not,” replied Tom with a smile.
“He and I had a little difference of opinion just
now, and&mdash;”</p>

<p>“Very well,” interrupted Mr. Blackford.
“You needn’t explain. Suit yourself about the
room. It is yours for the term.” He knew better
than to enter into a talk about the disagreements
of the students. There were other troubles to
occupy him.</p>

<p>Left to himself, Tom sat down and looked
about the room that was to be his for the Freshman
year. It had a good view of the campus and
buildings, and he liked it very much.</p>

<p>“Though I should be glad if I had a good
chum to come in with me,” reflected the new
student. “I may get in with somebody, though.
It’s rather lonesome to have two beds in one
room, but I can sleep half the night in one, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
half the night in the other I suppose,” he ended,
with a smile.</p>

<p>Tom was unpacking his belongings from his
valise when the expressman arrived with his
trunk, and a little later the matron knocked at
the door to ask if our hero found himself at
home.</p>

<p>“Yes, thank you,” replied Tom, accepting the
clean towels she brought. He had begun to hang
up his clothes.</p>

<p>“I do hope you get a nice young man in with
you,” suggested Mrs. Blackford. “One who
won’t be cutting up, and doing all sorts of mischievous
pranks.”</p>

<p>Tom proceeded with getting his room to rights
as she left him, and a little later, finding that it
wanted an hour yet to twelve o’clock, our hero
strolled out on the campus.</p>

<p>He looked about for a sight of Sam Heller, or
his crony, Johnson, who, it appeared later, had
passed his examinations, and was a Sophomore,
while Sam had to remain a Freshman, much to
his disgust. But the two, whom Tom had come
to feel were his enemies, were not in sight. Nor
was Reddy Burke, and, though Tom strolled over
past Elmwood Castle, he did not get a sight of
Bruce Bennington.</p>

<p>Tom strolled about until lunch, and the mid-day
meal was not a very jolly affair. About twenty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
Freshmen, who had come a day before the term
formally opened, were at the tables and they
were all rather miserable, like fishes out of water,
as Tom reflected. Still our hero talked with
them, experiences were exchanged, and the ice
was broken.</p>

<p>“But I don’t exactly cotton to any of them
enough to have one for a roommate,” reflected
Tom.</p>

<p>That afternoon, having formally registered,
and being told about the hours for chapel, and his
lecture and recitation periods, Tom wrote a long
letter to his father and mother.</p>

<p>He was coming back, from having posted it,
when he noticed, standing on the steps of Opus
Manor, a solitary figure.</p>

<p>“I hope that isn’t Sam Heller, waiting to renew
the quarrel with me,” reflected Tom, as he
drew nearer. “Still, if it is, I’ll meet him half
way, though I don’t want to get into a fight my
first day here.”</p>

<p>But he was soon made aware that it was not
the bully who stood on the steps. It was a lad
about his own age, a tall, straight youth, with a
pleasant smiling face, and merry brown eyes.
No, I am just a trifle wrong about that face. It
was naturally a jolly one, but just now it bore a
puzzled and unhappy look.</p>

<p>“Hello,” said Tom pleasantly, as he mounted
the steps, and was about to pass in.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>

<p>“Hello!” greeted the other. “Do you room
here?”</p>

<p>“Yes. This is my first day.”</p>

<p>“Say, you’re in luck. It’s my first day too. I’m
a stranger in a strange land, and I’m stuck.”</p>

<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Tom.</p>

<p>“Well, very foolishly, I delayed settling about
my room until I got here. I thought there’d be
plenty of places, and, when I did arrive I found
that Opus Manor was the only desirable place for
us Freshmen. Up I steps, as bold as brass, and
asks for a room and bath. ‘Nothing doing,’ answers
the worthy monitor, or words to that effect.
Consequently, behold yours truly without a
place to sleep, unless he goes into town to a common
boarding house. And I <em>did</em> want to get in
with the Freshmen! It’s tough luck!”</p>

<p>Tom was doing some rapid thinking.</p>

<p>“I don’t suppose you know of a good place in
town; do you?” went on the other. “My name
is Fitch&mdash;Jack Fitch. I’m from New York
city.”</p>

<p>“Mine’s Tom Fairfield, from Briartown,”
said our hero.</p>

<p>“Well, Tom Fairfield, have you been here
long enough to recommend a place to room,
where I can also get the eats; especially the eats,
for I’m a good feeder. Know of a likely place?”</p>

<p>Tom’s mind was made up.</p>

<p>“Yes, there’s a place here,” he said.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>

<p>“Here? Are you stringing me? They told
me every room was taken.”</p>

<p>“So it is, but I have a large double one, and I
was looking for a chum. So&mdash;”</p>

<p>“You don’t mean you’ll take me in?” cried
Jack. “Oh, end the suspense! Fireman save
my child! Don’t torture me!” and he gave a
good imitation of a woe-begone actor.</p>

<p>“I’ll be glad to have you,” said Tom, who
had taken a sudden liking to Jack. “That is, if
you’d really like to come. You might look at the
room.”</p>

<p>“Say no more! Come? Of course I’ll come!
Will a duck swim? But I say, you know, you
don’t know much about me.”</p>

<p>“I’ll take a chance&mdash;if you will,” said Tom,
laughing.</p>

<p>“All right. Then we’ll call it square. Lead
on and I’ll follow. To think that, after all, I’m
going to get in Opus Manor! It’s great, Fairfield!”</p>

<p>“Call me Tom, if you like.”</p>

<p>“I like. I’m Jack to you, from now on.
Shake!” and he caught Tom’s hand in a firm
clasp. The two looked into each other’s eyes,
and what they read satisfied them. They were
chums from then on.</p>

<p>“I’ll take you to my room&mdash;<em>our</em> room,” Tom
corrected himself. “It’s a fine one!”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>

<p>“I’m sure it must be. But do you reckon the
Lord and Lady of this castle will allow me to
share it with you?”</p>

<p>“Yes. In fact Mrs. Blackford spoke of me
getting some one in with me. So that will be
all right.”</p>

<p>“Great! Do you mind if I do a little dance?
Just a few steps to show my joy?” asked Jack,
and Tom perceived at once that his new friend
was a jolly lad.</p>

<p>“Not at all,” Tom answered, and Jack
gravely did a hop skip and jump on the top platform
of the steps.</p>

<p>As he finished there came a laugh from a
couple of lads passing.</p>

<p>“Look at the ballet lady!” mocked a voice,
and Tom saw Sam Heller and Nick Johnson approaching.</p>

<p>“Did you like it?” asked Jack, coolly. He
was not to be easily disconcerted.</p>

<p>“Oh, it was great!” declared Sam with a
sneer. “We’ll have you in the Patchwork Club
if you keep on.”</p>

<p>There was no mistaking the sneering tone of
his voice, and Jack flushed.</p>

<p>“Friends of yours?” he asked Tom.</p>

<p>“Just the reverse. But don’t bother with
them now. We can attend to them later&mdash;if we
have to.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>

<p>“And I think I shall have to,” said Jack
quietly, as he looked Sam full in the face. “I
don’t mind fun, but I like it to come from my
friends. Lead on, Tom, and, as you say, we’ll
attend to those two later.”</p>

<p>He followed Tom, and, as they disappeared
into Opus Manor there floated to them the mocking
laughs of the two cronies.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a><br />
<small>AN ANGRY PROFESSOR</small></h2>


<p>“Tom, did you ever balance a water pitcher on
your nose? I mean full of water. The pitcher
full, that is to say, not the nose.”</p>

<p>“Never, and I’m not going to begin now.”</p>

<p>“Well, I am. Watch me. I used to be pretty
good at juggling.”</p>

<p>“Say, you want to be careful.”</p>

<p>“Oh, I will be. I’ve never done it, but there
must always be a first time. And, though balancing
water pitchers may not be an accomplishment
taught in all schools, still there may come a time
when the knowledge of how to juggle one will
come in handy. Here goes.”</p>

<p>Tom and Jack were in their room&mdash;the room
our hero had decided to share with his new chum.
The matron and monitor had been interviewed,
and Mrs. Blackford was very glad, she said, to
know that Tom was to have a companion.</p>

<p>“And such a nice, quiet-appearing lad as he is,
too,” she confided to her husband. Alas, she did
not know Jack Fitch!</p>

<p>“The other one seems very quiet, also,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
Mr. Blackford. “I wish all the students were
like those two.”</p>

<p>But if he and his wife could have looked into
the chums’ room at that moment, perhaps they
would not have held to that opinion.</p>

<p>For Jack had taken the large water pitcher, and
was preparing to balance it on his nose, while
Tom, rather fearing how the experiment would
terminate, had gotten safely out of the way in case
of an accident.</p>

<p>“I wouldn’t do it, if I were you,” spoke Tom,
though he could not help laughing at his chum’s
odd notion.</p>

<p>“Why not?” demanded Jack.</p>

<p>“Well&mdash;&mdash; Oh, because it might fall.”</p>

<p>“No reason at all, Tom. If would-be jugglers
hesitated on that account there’d be no experts.
Give me a hand until I get it up on my nose; will
you?”</p>

<p>“I’d rather not.”</p>

<p>“Why?”</p>

<p>“I’m afraid it will fall.”</p>

<p>“Oh, pshaw! Why fear? Never mind. I’ll
balance it on my chin instead of my nose. On
second thought it’s a little too heavy for the nose
act, and my nose is like a bear’s&mdash;it’s tender.
Watch me!”</p>

<p>Jack carefully lifted the pitcher of water,
and managed to get it on his chin. He steadied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
it with his two hands, bending his head back, and
then, when he thought he had it where he wanted
it, he lowered his palms, and the pitcher&mdash;for an
instant&mdash;was balanced on his chin.</p>

<p>“Look!” he called to Tom, not taking his eyes
from the vessel of water. “Talk about jugglers!
Some class to me; eh, Tom?”</p>

<p>“Yes, I guess so.”</p>

<p>“Now bring me a chair,” requested Jack.
“I’m going to do it standing on a chair.”</p>

<p>“You’ll never do it!” predicted Tom.</p>

<p>“Yes, I will. I’ll get the chair myself, then.”</p>

<p>This was his undoing. As long as he remained
in one spot, with his head carefully held still, the
pitcher did not tilt enough to upset. But, as soon
as Jack moved, there was an accident.</p>

<p>“Look out!” yelled Tom, but his warning
came too late.</p>

<p>Jack made a wild grab for the slipping vessel,
but his hands did not grasp it in time. A moment
later there was a heavy crash, pieces of
china flew about the room, and a shower of water
drenched the chums.</p>

<p>For a moment there was a grim silence. Then
Jack said:</p>

<p>“Well, I’ll be jiggered!”</p>

<p>“You certainly ought to be!” and Tom
laughed in spite of himself, for his new chum was
much wetter than he.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>

<p>The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps
was heard.</p>

<p>“Oh pip!” whispered the luckless juggler.</p>

<p>“What is the matter? Has anything happened?”
demanded the voice of Matron Blackford,
in the corridor.</p>

<p>“Well&mdash;er&mdash;yes&mdash;we have had a slight&mdash;er&mdash;happening,”
replied Tom, grabbing the clean
towels, and proceeding to mop up the water from
the carpet.</p>

<p>“Oh, is anyone hurt? May I come in?”</p>

<p>“Come!” called Jack, following his chum’s
example, and the matron entered.</p>

<p>“What happened?” she asked, as she saw the
water, the drenched boys, and the pieces of the
broken pitcher.</p>

<p>“It&mdash;it sort of&mdash;fell,” replied Jack calmly,
mopping away at the carpet.</p>

<p>“And broke,” added Tom. “We’re sorry&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

<p>“And the water all spilled out,” needlessly interrupted
Jack. “We are very sorry for that,
too.”</p>

<p>“Oh you boys!” exclaimed the matron, raising
her hands in despair. “I was afraid something
would happen. What were you doing?”</p>

<p>“I was reciting my lesson in juggling,” replied
Jack gravely. “And the pitcher slipped. I’ll
pay for it.”</p>

<p>“Oh, no, as long as you were at your lessons<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
when it happened, it was an accident, and you
needn’t pay,” said the matron, but, later, Jack insisted,
and then the story came out.</p>

<p>“I’ll bring you some clean towels,” said Mrs.
Blackford. “Luckily there is a wooden ceiling
below, or the plaster would have fallen, if there
had been any,” and she hurried away.</p>

<p>Tom’s first day at Elmwood Hall ended quietly
enough, as did Jack’s, at dinner in the big Freshman
class dining room, and the two went to bed
early, as they were rather tired. There was very
little excitement in the school that night. A few
of the older students sang some choruses on the
campus, but the real life of the institution had not
yet begun.</p>

<p>The next day was full of activity. Students&mdash;old
and new&mdash;arrived by the score, and the professors,
the matrons, the monitors, the proctor,
and Doctor Meredith himself, had their hands
full. Opus Manor filled with a laughing, chattering
crowd, and Tom was glad he had selected his
room in advance, as there were many disappointed
boys, when they found they could not get
the apartments they wanted.</p>

<p>“I struck it right!” declared Jack.</p>

<p>“And so did I!” added Tom, for he liked his
new chum more and more. They made the acquaintance
of several lads. On one side of them
roomed Bert Wilson, to whom Tom and Jack at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
once took a liking, and on the other side was
George Abbot, a rather lonely little chap.</p>

<p>“I’m sure we’re going to like it here,” declared
Jack, after their first lecture, when both he and
Tom found that they were well up in the subject
presented.</p>

<p>“Sure,” assented Tom.</p>

<p>“It’s a jolly place, all right,” declared Bert.
“I wonder if there’ll be any hazing?”</p>

<p>“Of course,” declared Jack. “I don’t mind,
though.”</p>

<p>“Nor I,” said Tom.</p>

<p>Several days passed, and nearly all the students,
save a few Seniors, had arrived. Bruce Bennington
was among the missing, and Tom found himself
wondering if he would come back.</p>

<p>“Maybe his trouble will keep him out of college,”
thought our hero, and he felt some regret,
for he had formed a liking for the lad, though
he had met him but once.</p>

<p>“Come on down to the river,” proposed Tom
one day, after the last lecture for himself and his
chum. “I’m just aching to get into a boat, and
I understand there are some on the Ware river
that a fellow can hire. I wish I had my motorboat
here.”</p>

<p>“Why don’t you send for it?”</p>

<p>“Guess I will. Say, don’t you think the Latin
is pretty stiff here?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>

<p>“A bit. But old Skeel makes it so. He’s
fierce. I guess Reddy Burke was right about
what he said of him.”</p>

<p>“Sure he was. But never mind. Maybe it’ll
be easier when we’ve been here a few weeks.
Here’s a short cut to the river,” suggested Tom,
as they came to the rear of a fine residence.
“Let’s take it.”</p>

<p>“Looks as if we’d have to cross private
grounds. One of the profs. lives here, I understand.”</p>

<p>“What of it?” asked our hero. “He won’t
mind, I guess. I like to take cut-offs when I can.”</p>

<p>“Go ahead. I’m with you,” answered Jack.</p>

<p>The two cut across a lawn in the rear of the
house, for they could see the glittering river just
beyond a fringe of trees, and they were glad of
the by-path, as they had gone a longer and more
roundabout way several times.</p>

<p>Tom was in the lead, and he had just passed a
summer house, vine-encumbered, on the rear lawn,
when an angry voice hailed him.</p>

<p>“Where are you going?” was demanded.</p>

<p>“To the river,” replied Tom.</p>

<p>“Who told you to go this way?”</p>

<p>“No one.”</p>

<p>As Tom answered he saw a man come from the
summer house, a man he at once recognized as
Professor Burton Skeel, the grim Latin instructor.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>

<p>“Well, you boys can just go back the way you
came,” went on the angry professor. “These
are my private grounds, and I allow no students
to trespass. If I find you doing it again I shall
take sterner measures. Go back the way you
came, and don’t come here again. Ah, I see that
you are Elmwood students,” the professor went
on. “That makes it all the worse. You should
have known that I permit no trespassing, nor
trifling. Be off!”</p>

<p>He fairly yelled the last words at the chums,
who, though abashed, were not much alarmed by
the angry instructor.</p>

<p>As they turned to retrace their steps Tom saw
another figure in the summer house. He had a
glimpse of the face, and it was that of Bruce
Bennington. The Senior had been in close conversation
with the angry professor.</p>

<p>“He looks sad,” mused Tom, referring to
Bruce. “I guess his trouble isn’t over yet. I
wonder if that glum professor can have anything
to do with it?”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a><br />
<small>BRUCE IS WORRIED</small></h2>


<p>“Nice, pleasant sort of a chap for a professor&mdash;not!”
exclaimed Jack, as he and Tom went a
more roundabout, and public, way to the river.</p>

<p>“He certainly is grouchy,” agreed our hero.
“Who’d think he’d rile up just because we cut
through his back yard? He may take it out of us
in class.”</p>

<p>“Shouldn’t wonder. His kind usually does.”</p>

<p>“Did you see who was with him?” asked Tom.</p>

<p>“I saw a fellow, but no one I knew.”</p>

<p>“That was Bruce Bennington, the Senior I was
telling you about.”</p>

<p>“The one you said had some trouble?”</p>

<p>“Yes, and to judge by his looks he has it yet.
I wonder what he was doing with old Skeel?”</p>

<p>“Maybe explaining why he hadn’t been to lectures
before this.”</p>

<p>“No, I understand the Senior class doesn’t
have to report as punctually as we poor dubs of
Freshmen. It must be something else.”</p>

<p>“Well, we have our own troubles, Tom. Don’t
go to looking for those of other fellows.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>

<p>“I won’t, Jack, only I’d like to help Bennington
if I could.”</p>

<p>“So would I. Look, there are some boats we
might hire,” and Tom pointed to a small structure
on the edge of the river, where several boats
were tied. A number of students from Elmwood
Hall were gathered about, and some were out in
the rowing craft.</p>

<p>Tom and Jack learned that the man in charge
kept boats for hire, and the two chums were soon
out in one, pulling up the river so, as Tom explained,
they would have it easier coming back
with the current.</p>

<p>“There goes the Senior shell!” exclaimed Jack,
as from the college boathouse the long, slender
craft was rowed out, looking not unlike some big
bug, with long, slender legs. “They’re practicing
for the race, I guess.”</p>

<p>“I wish I was with them,” remarked Tom.
“I’m going to try for the Freshman crew.”</p>

<p>“And I’m with you.”</p>

<p>The two rowed on, and soon found a quiet,
shady nook, where the trees overhung the river.
There they tied their boat, and talked in the
shadows.</p>

<p>Coming back they again saw the Senior shell,
the lads in it rowing more slowly, for they were
tired after their practice sprint. Turning in their
hired boat, Tom and Jack went to the college<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
crew’s headquarters, and there Tom, on making
cautious inquiries, learned to his regret that there
would be no Freshman crew organized that fall.</p>

<p>“You see,” explained Reddy Burke to the two
lads, who were much interested in water sports,
“our rowing season is in the spring. This is only
a little supplementary race the head crew is going
to row with Burkhardt college, which is five miles
down stream. We beat them in the spring, but
they asked for another meet, and we gave it to
them.</p>

<p>“But rowing is practically over for this year,
so I guess there’s no chance for you to get in a
shell. Try in the spring, if you want to.”</p>

<p>“We will,” decided Tom.</p>

<p>“Meanwhile you’d better be thinking of football,”
advised Reddy. “Candidates for the team
as well as for the class elevens will soon be called
for.”</p>

<p>“That hits us!” exclaimed Jack. “I’m going
to train hard. Do you think our crew will win.”</p>

<p>“Sure,” declared Reddy, and I might add here
that when the auxiliary race was rowed, two weeks
later, Elmwood did win easily over her rival.</p>

<p>“Bennington is here,” remarked Tom, as with
Jack he walked toward the campus with Reddy.</p>

<p>“Is that so? It’s about time he blew in.
Where did you see him?”</p>

<p>Tom explained, telling of the peremptory manner<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
in which Professor Skeel had ordered them
from his lawn.</p>

<p>“Oh, you mustn’t mind that,” advised Reddy.
“He certainly is getting worse every term. I
don’t see why Dr. Meredith keeps him. He’s the
worst one of the faculty, and if he doesn’t look out
he’ll get what’s coming to him.”</p>

<p>“Well, what shall we do this evening?” asked
Jack, as he and his chum were in their room after
supper. “I’ve done with my boning.”</p>

<p>“So have I. What do you say to a lark? Let’s
run the guard and go to town.”</p>

<p>“I’m with you. Let’s get some of the other
fellows,” proposed Jack. “Bert Wilson will
come, and so will George Abbot, I guess, if he
can stop asking questions long enough.”</p>

<p>“Sure we’ll go,” declared Bert, when the chums
made the proposal to him.</p>

<p>“But what will we do when we get there?”
George wanted to know.</p>

<p>“Oh. Why, we’ll stand on our heads!” exclaimed
Tom with a laugh.</p>

<p>“All of us?” demanded the inquisitive lad.</p>

<p>“No, only you,” retorted Jack. “For cats’
sake, cut out some of those questions; will you?
We’ll call you Interrogation Mark if you don’t
look out, only it’s too much of a mouthful to
speak in a hurry. Cut along now, before we’re
caught.”</p>

<p>It was dark enough to elude a possible spying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
monitor, or one of the proctor’s emissaries, and
soon the four lads were on their way to town.
They went to a moving picture show, enjoying it
greatly.</p>

<p>“Now if we can get in without being seen, we’ll
be all right,” remarked Tom, when they had
neared the college on the return trip.</p>

<p>“Pshaw, I shouldn’t much mind getting
caught,” declared Jack. “It would be fun.”</p>

<p>“Doing double boning, or being kept in bounds
for a week wouldn’t though,” declared Tom with
conviction. “I vote we don’t get caught, if we
can help it.”</p>

<p>“Maybe we can’t,” suggested Bert.</p>

<p>“Why not?” George wanted to know.</p>

<p>“Oh, ask us something easier,” laughed Tom.
“Come on now, and don’t make too much noise.”</p>

<p>They were about to cross the campus, and make
for their dormitory, when there was a movement
behind a clump of shrubbery, and a figure was
seen to emerge.</p>

<p>“There’s some one!” whispered Bert.</p>

<p>“Caught!” murmured Tom.</p>

<p>“I wonder who it is?” came from George.</p>

<p>“It’s Bruce Bennington, the Senior,” came
from Tom. “We are safe.”</p>

<p>“You won’t be if you continue on this way,”
came grimly from Bruce. “One of the proctor’s
scouts is out to-night, just laying for innocent
Freshies. You’d better cut around the side, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
go in the back basement door. It’s generally
open, or if it isn’t I’ve got a key that will do the
trick.”</p>

<p>“You know the ropes,” laughed Tom.</p>

<p>“I ought to. I was a Freshman once. Come
on, I’ll show you the way, but don’t work the trick
too often.”</p>

<p>Bruce walked up to Tom, and remarked:</p>

<p>“Oh, it’s you, is it, Fairfield. Glad to see you
again. I didn’t recognize you in the darkness.
I just got in to-day.”</p>

<p>“Yes, I saw you,” remarked our hero as he introduced
his chums.</p>

<p>Bruce continued to walk on beside Tom, the
others following. The Senior led the way along
a little-used path, well screened by trees from spying
eyes.</p>

<p>“Won’t you get caught yourself?” Tom
wanted to know.</p>

<p>“No, we lordly Seniors are allowed a few more
privileges than you luckless squabs. Though I
shouldn’t much mind if I was nabbed. It would
be like old times,” and Tom detected a sigh in the
words. Clearly Bruce was still worrying.</p>

<p>“I saw you in Professor Skeel’s summer house
this afternoon,” went on Tom.</p>

<p>“Oh, so you were the lads he warned away!
Yes, Skeel is a&mdash;well I guess I’d better not say
anything,” spoke Bruce quickly. “It might not
be altogether healthy.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>

<p>“For you?” asked Tom.</p>

<p>“Yes. I’m under some obligations to him, and&mdash;well,
I don’t like to talk about it,” he finished.</p>

<p>“Then you haven’t gotten over your trouble?”
asked Tom sympathetically.</p>

<p>“No, it’s worse than ever. Oh, hang it all,
what a chump I’ve been!” exclaimed Bruce.
“This thing is worrying the life out of me!”</p>

<p>“Why can’t some of your friends help you?”
asked Tom. “If I could&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

<p>“No, thank you, Fairfield, no one can do anything
but myself, and I can’t, just now. It may
come out all right in the end. Don’t say anything
about it. Here we are. Now to see if the door’s
open.”</p>

<p>Letting Bruce lead the way, the other lads
cautiously followed. They saw him about to try
the knob of the basement portal, when suddenly
Tom became aware of a light flickering through
a side window.</p>

<p>“Hist!” he signalled to Bruce. “Someone’s
coming!”</p>

<p>“All right. You fellows lay low, and I’ll take
a look,” volunteered their guide. “I don’t mind
being caught.”</p>

<p>“He’s got nerve,” said Jack, admiringly, as he
and his chums crouched down in the darkness.</p>

<p>Tom and the others saw Bruce boldly look in
the window through which the light shone.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a><br />
<small>THE CALL OF THE PIGSKIN</small></h2>


<p>“Maybe it’s Professor Skeel,” whispered
George, apprehensively.</p>

<p>“Or Merry himself,” added Jack.</p>

<p>“Nonsense!” replied Tom. “Neither of
them would be in our dormitory at this hour.”</p>

<p>“Unless they got wise to the fact that we went
out, and they’re laying to catch us when we come
in,” declared Bert. “If I’m nabbed I hope my
dad doesn’t hear of it.”</p>

<p>“Come on, fellows,” came in a shrill whisper
from Bruce. “It’s only Demy, our studious
janitor. He’s boning over some book, and if you
help him with his conjugation, or demonstrate a
geometric proposition for him, he’ll let you burn
the school down and say nothing about it. Come
on; it’s all right.”</p>

<p>They entered through the door, which was not
locked, so that Bruce did not have to use his key,
and at their advance, into what was a sort of
storeroom of the basement, the studious janitor
looked up from a book he was reading.</p>

<p>“Well, well!” he exclaimed. “Is this&mdash;ahem!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
young gentleman, I hardly know
what&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

<p>“It’s all right, Demy,” interrupted Bruce with
a laugh. “I brought ’em in. They want to help
you do a little&mdash;let’s see what you’re at, anyhow?”
and he looked at the book.</p>

<p>“It’s Horace,” said the janitor. “I want to
read some of his odes in the original, but the
translating is very hard, to say the least. Still, I
am determined to get an education while I have
the chance.”</p>

<p>“Good for you!” exclaimed the Senior. “I’ll
help you, Demy. Horace is pie for me. You
fellows cut along to your rooms,” he added, significantly.
“You haven’t seen them, have you,
Demy?”</p>

<p>“No, Mr. Bennington, not if you don’t wish
me to,” and the janitor, with a grateful look at the
Senior, prepared to listen to the Latin, while Tom
and his chums, grateful for the aid given them,
hurried up the stairs to their apartments.</p>

<p>“That was fine of him, wasn’t it?” remarked
Jack, as good-nights were being whispered.</p>

<p>“It sure was,” declared Tom, wishing more
than ever that he could help the unhappy Senior.</p>

<p>“I wonder why the janitor wants to know
Latin?” came from the human question mark.</p>

<p>“Oh, answer that in your dreams,” advised
Tom.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>

<p>From the fact that no mention was made of
their little night excursion, Tom and the others
concluded that the studious janitor had kept his
pact with Bruce. The latter told Tom afterward
that he was kept busy giving Latin instruction until
nearly midnight.</p>

<p>“It was good of you,” said our hero.</p>

<p>“Oh, pshaw! I’m glad I can do somebody
good,” was the rejoinder. That was Bruce Bennington’s
way. As Reddy had said, the Senior
was his own worst enemy.</p>

<p>“Hear the news?” burst out Jack, as he entered
the room where Tom was studying, a few
afternoons later.</p>

<p>“No, what news?”</p>

<p>“Call for Freshmen and regular football candidates
is posted. Practice begins to-morrow.
Let’s get out our suits.”</p>

<p>“Fine!” cried Tom, tossing his book on the
table, and scurrying for his trunk where he had
packed away his moleskin trousers and canvas
jacket. Jack soon had his out, looking for possible
rents and ripped seams.</p>

<p>“I’ve got to do some mending&mdash;worse luck!”
exclaimed Tom, as he saw a big hole in his
trousers.</p>

<p>“Can you sew?” asked Jack.</p>

<p>“Oh, so-so,” laughed Tom. “I can make a
stab at it, anyhow,” and he proceeded to close up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
the rent by the simple process of gathering the
edges together like the mouth of a bag, and winding
string around them. “There! I guess
that’ll do,” he added.</p>

<p>It was a clear, crisp day, and “the call of the
pigskin” had been heard all through the college.
Several score of lads, in more or less disreputable
suits, that had seen lots of service, assembled on
the gridiron under the watchful eyes of the
coaches.</p>

<p>“I hope I make the regular eleven,” said Tom,
as he sent a beautiful spiral kick to Jack.</p>

<p>“So do I,” was the reply. “But I hear there
are lots of candidates for it, and almost a whole
team was left over from last season, so there won’t
be much chance for us.”</p>

<p>The practice was more or less ragged, and, in
fact it was only designed to let the coaches see
how the new lads “sized-up.” Several elevens
were tentatively formed, and taken to different
parts of the field to play against each other.</p>

<p>Tom worked hard, and he was glad to note that
one of the older players had regarded him with
what our hero thought were favorable eyes. Jack
was also doing well.</p>

<p>This practice was kept up for several days, and
about a week later Reddy Burke, meeting Tom,
exclaimed:</p>

<p>“Say, you fellows are in luck!”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>

<p>“How so?” asked Jack, who was with his
chum.</p>

<p>“You’ve made the eleven, I hear. You’ll probably
get notice to-day.”</p>

<p>“The regular?” cried Tom in delight.</p>

<p>“Hardly! There’s only one new fellow going
on that, I understand, though you might fill in as
subs. But you’re both going to play on the first
Freshman eleven.”</p>

<p>“The Freshman team,” spoke Jack, somewhat
disappointedly.</p>

<p>“Say, what do you want?” asked Tom. “I
think it’s fine. Of course I wish it was the regular,
but maybe next year&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

<p>“That’s the way to talk,” declared Reddy, who
was on the leading team himself. “But I tell you
that you’re in luck to make the Freshman team.
There are no end of candidates, but you two
seemed to hit the mark.”</p>

<p>Tom rejoiced exceedingly, and when he received
his formal notice, as did Jack, our hero at once
wrote to his parents, who were soon to reach
Australia. Tom had had several letters from
them since leaving home, but had yet to hear of
their safe arrival. He sent the letter to Sydney,
in care of his father’s lawyer.</p>

<p>There were busy days for our hero and his
chums now. With lectures to attend, studying to
do, and football practice, their time was pretty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
well occupied. Bert Wilson had made the Freshman
eleven, and the three chums played well together.</p>

<p>Tom had not seen much of Bruce Bennington
since the night the Senior aided the first year lads,
for Bruce was busy too, as he was on the ’varsity.</p>

<p>Tom found that football, as played at Elmwood,
was very different from the Academy
games, but he was made of tough material, and he
soon worked well into his place as right half-back,
while Jack was left tackle. Several scrub games
had been played, and the Freshman coaches
seemed satisfied with the work of their charges.</p>

<p>“Hurray!” yelled Tom, running up to Jack
one afternoon, as his chum was strolling across
the campus. “Yell, old man!”</p>

<p>“What for?”</p>

<p>“We play our first regular game Saturday
against Holwell college. They’ve got a strong
team, but we’re going to win! I’m going to make
a touchdown!”</p>

<p>“Good! Oh, say, it’s great here!” and in the
excess of their good spirits Tom and Jack fell to
pummelling each other in hearty fashion.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a><br />
<small>TOM’S TOUCHDOWN</small></h2>


<p>“Come on now, boys, line up!”</p>

<p>It was the call of Coach Jackson for the final
practice of the Freshmen eleven before their first
big game. The regulars were to play against the
scrub, and, as some of the positions were yet in
doubt, there were some anxious hearts. For not
a substitute but wanted to fill in on the regular
eleven.</p>

<p>Tom and Jack, because of the good showing
they had made, were assured of places, but Sam
Heller, who, to do him credit, was a fairly good
player, was not so certain. It lay between him
and Bert Wilson, as to who would be quarter-back.</p>

<p>“But if I had my rights, and if that Fairfield
chap hadn’t come butting in,” declared Sam to
his crony, Nick, “I would be sure of my place.”</p>

<p>“That’s right,” agreed Nick. “We’ll have to
get up something on Fairfield, and make him quit
Elmwood.”</p>

<p>“I wish I could. Say, the Sophs haven’t done
any hazing this term yet; have they?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>

<p>“No, but they will.”</p>

<p>“I suppose so. Well, just have ’em let me
down easy; will you? I’m a Soph myself, by
rights, if old Hammond hadn’t marked me low in
maths. But have the Sophs give it to Fairfield
and his chum good and proper; will you?”</p>

<p>“Sure I will. We’re going to do some hazing
after the football game. We thought we’d put it
off until then.”</p>

<p>“All right, only do Tom Fairfield up if you
can.”</p>

<p>“I will. I don’t like him any more than you
do. He’s got too many airs to suit me&mdash;he and
that Jack Fitch.”</p>

<p>“Line up! Line up!” called the coach, and the
practice began. Sam Heller was called on to take
his place in the scrub, which he did with no good
grace, casting envious eyes at Bert Wilson, and
with a feeling of bitterness in his heart toward
Tom. And with no good cause, for Tom had
done nothing to Sam.</p>

<p>“Now, boys, play your heads off!” ordered
the coach. “I want to see what sort of stuff
you’re made of. The best players will go against
Holwell to-morrow.”</p>

<p>Then the scrub game began, with the Freshmen
players doing their best to shove back their opponents,
and the latter equally determined to make
as good a showing as possible. Back and forth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
the battle of the gridiron waged, with Tom jumping
into every play, looking for openings where
he might wriggle through with the ball, or help the
man who had it to gain a yard or two.</p>

<p>“Touchdown! Touchdown!” yelled the members
of the first eleven, as they got the ball well
down toward the scrub goal. “Make it a touchdown!”</p>

<p>It would have been, but for the fact that Bert
Wilson fumbled the ball in passing it back from
centre. A scrub player broke through, grabbed
the pigskin, and was off down the field like a shot.</p>

<p>“Get him, boys!” cried Morse Denton, the
Freshman captain, and Jack Fitch, who was as
fleet as some ends, was after the fleeing youth.
He caught him in time to prevent a score being
made, but the coach shook his head at the next
line up.</p>

<p>“Heller, you go in at quarter to replace Wilson,”
he said. “I am sorry,” the arbiter added,
at the look of gloom on the face of Tom’s chum,
“but fumbles are costly. I can’t afford to take
any chances.”</p>

<p>Bert said nothing, but he knew that he was not
altogether at fault, for the centre had not passed
the ball accurately. Sam Heller, with a triumphant
smile at Tom, went to quarter, and the
game proceeded. But it was noticed that Sam,
who was giving signals, and deciding on most of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
the plays, did not give Tom as many chances as
when Bert had been in place behind the centre.</p>

<p>“You want to look out for Sam in the game
to-morrow,” said Jack to Tom that night, when,
after gruelling practice, the regular Freshmen had
shoved the scrub all over the field.</p>

<p>“Why so?”</p>

<p>“Because I think he has it in for you. He’ll
spoil your plays if he can, and he won’t give you
a chance. Look out for him.”</p>

<p>“I will. But at the same time I don’t believe
he’d do anything to spoil the chance of the team
winning.”</p>

<p>“I wouldn’t trust him. At the same time he
may do nothing worse than not give you a chance.
It’s going to be a big game, I hear, and the fellow
who makes good will be in line for the ’varsity
next season.”</p>

<p>“I’ll watch out. Now let’s do something.
Come on in Bert’s room. He feels bad about not
playing to-morrow.”</p>

<p>“I know. But it’s forbidden to visit in other
fellows’ rooms after hours.”</p>

<p>“Oh, what of it?” asked Tom, who liked to
take chances. “We’ve got to do something. It
isn’t so late, and there are no lectures to-morrow.”</p>

<p>“All right, go ahead. I’m with you. But I
hope we don’t get caught. It might mean being
ruled out of the game to-morrow.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p>

<p>Bert was grateful for the sympathy of his
chums, and soon felt in better humor. Jack offered
to repeat his water pitcher juggling act, and
was only prevented by force on the part of Tom.
There was a merry scuffle, and George Abbot
came in to see what was going on, at the same time
bringing warning that a sub-monitor had been
patroling the corridors.</p>

<p>“Then we’ve got to be quiet,” declared Tom.
“Cut out your juggling, Jack.”</p>

<p>The four chums talked for an hour or more,
and then the three, who were out of their rooms,
taking a cautious survey of the hall, prepared to
go to bed, ready for the big game on the morrow.
Jack and Tom just escaped being caught as they
slipped into their apartment, but, as Tom remarked,
“A miss was as good as a mile.”</p>

<p>Then came the day of the great game.</p>

<p>“Line up! Line up!”</p>

<p>“Over here, Elmwood!”</p>

<p>“This way, Holwell!”</p>

<p>“Rah! Rah! Rah!”</p>

<p>“Toot! Toot! Toot!”</p>

<p>These were only some of the cries that burst
forth from hundreds of throats at the annual game
between the Elmwood and Holwell schools, as the
Freshmen prepared to clash in their gridiron
battle.</p>

<p>The game was to take place on the Elmwood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
grounds, and both teams were out for practice.
The crowds were beginning to arrive, and the
bands were playing.</p>

<p>“Say, there’s a mob here all right,” remarked
Jack to Tom. “A raft of people.”</p>

<p>“Yes. I hope we win.”</p>

<p>“Oh, sure we will. Don’t get nervous. I only
wish Bert was at quarter instead of Sam Heller.”</p>

<p>“So do I, but it can’t be helped. I guess it
will be all right.”</p>

<p>“Line up!”</p>

<p>It was the final call. The preliminaries had
been all arranged, the goals chosen, and the practice
balls called in. Elmwood was to kick off, and
the new yellow pigskin was handed to her burly
centre, who was poising it on a little mound of
earth in the middle of the field.</p>

<p>“Ready?” asked the official.</p>

<p>“Ready!” answered both captains.</p>

<p>The whistle shrilled out its signal, and the toe
of the big centre met the ball squarely. It was
well kicked into the Holwell territory.</p>

<p>The full-back on the latter team caught it skillfully,
and started to return with it, well protected
by interference, but Jack Fitch worked his way
through it, and tackled his man hard.</p>

<p>“Good! Good!” screamed the Elmwood enthusiasts,
and then the first scrimmage was prepared
for.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>

<p>I am not going to describe for you that game in
detail, for it formed but a small part in the life
of Tom Fairfield. Sufficient to say that the gridiron
battle was fairly even, and that at the end
of the third quarter the score was a tie.</p>

<p>“But we’ve got to win!” declared the Elmwood
captain, during the rest period. “We’ve
<em>got</em> to.”</p>

<p>“And we will, if there’s a change made,” declared
Jack Fitch boldly.</p>

<p>“What do you mean?”</p>

<p>“I mean that Tom Fairfield isn’t getting a fair
show.”</p>

<p>“Oh, Jack!” exclaimed Tom.</p>

<p>“That’s right! You’re not!” declared his
chum. “Sam hasn’t called on you three times
during the game. It’s been all wing shift plays,
or place kicks, or forward passes, or fake kicks or
something like that. Why can’t we have some
straight, old-fashioned football, with a rush of the
half-back through tackle and guard or centre?
Tom’s a good ground-gainer.”</p>

<p>“I’ve played him as much as I saw proper,”
snapped Sam.</p>

<p>“You have not!” declared Jack hotly.</p>

<p>“Easy, boys,” cautioned the coach. “There
must be no personal feeling. Perhaps some
straight football would go well, Heller.”</p>

<p>“All right, I’ll give it to ’em.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>

<p>The whistle blew to start the last quarter.</p>

<p>“Remember, boys, a touchdown will do the
trick, and win the game!” pleaded the Elmwood
captain.</p>

<p>“Look out for yourself, Tom,” cautioned Jack.</p>

<p>“Why?”</p>

<p>“Because Sam is just mad enough to make you
fumble the ball and spoil a play. Then he’ll accuse
you of losing the game.”</p>

<p>“I’ll watch out.”</p>

<p>The play was resumed. It was give and take,
hammer and tongs, with the best players making
the most gains. The ball was slowly forced down
the field toward the Holwell goal.</p>

<p>“Touchdown! Touchdown!” screamed the
supporters of our hero’s college, and there were
many of them.</p>

<p>“Seven, eleven, thirty-three, Elmwood! Eight&mdash;nine&mdash;twenty-one!”
called Sam.</p>

<p>It was the signal for the full-back to take the
ball through centre. It was almost the last chance,
for the time was nearly up, and Tom had not been
given a single opportunity that quarter. His
heart burned against his enemy; yet what could
he do?</p>

<p>The quarter-back dropped his hands as a signal
for the centre to snap the ball back. Sam caught
it fairly, and turned to pass it to the full-back.
Then, that always fatal element in football developed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
There was a fumble. The ball was
dropped.</p>

<p>“Grab it! Fall on it!” yelled half a dozen
Holwell players.</p>

<p>The Elmwood line wavered. Could it hold?</p>

<p>Tom Fairfield, a mist before his eyes, saw the
pigskin rolling toward him. He picked it up on
the jump. In another moment Jack Fitch and Joe
Rooney, his guard, had torn a hole in the opposing
line.</p>

<p>“Come on, Tom!” yelled Jack hoarsely.</p>

<p>And Tom, with lowered head, with the ball held
close to his breast, plunged into the line. He hit
it hard. It yielded. He went through with a
rush, pushed by Jack and Joe. Then, seeing but
a single man between himself and the coveted
goal, he rushed for it.</p>

<p>All but the opposing full-back had been drawn
in at the sight of the fumble, and the chance to secure
the ball. Tom rushed at this lone player.</p>

<p>There was a shock. Tom reeled, but managed
to retain his footing. He shoved the full-back
aside, and ran on.</p>

<p>“Oh, great!” he heard hundreds yell. “Go
on! Go on!”</p>

<p>How he ran! It was the opportunity for which
he had waited. In spite of Sam Heller it had
come to him. Over the white chalk marks Tom
scudded, until, with panting breath, with a heart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
that seemed bursting, and with eyes that scarcely
saw, he fell over the last line, and planted the ball
between the goal posts, making the winning touchdown.
The other players&mdash;his own and his opponents&mdash;straggled
up to the last mark. The
whistle blew, ending the game.</p>

<p>“Oh wow!” shrilled hundreds of voices.
“Elmwood! Elmwood! Elmwood forever!”</p>

<p>“Tom, you won the game! You won the
game!” yelled Jack in his chum’s ear, as Tom got
up, holding his foot on the ball. “You won in
spite of Sam!”</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I’m glad&mdash;of&mdash;it!” panted Tom, scarcely
able to breathe even yet, for he had run hard.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a><br />
<small>A COWARD’S TRICK</small></h2>


<p>“Three cheers for Fairfield!”</p>

<p>“Rah! Rah! Rah!&mdash;Elmwood!”</p>

<p>“Three cheers for Holwell!”</p>

<p>There were shouts, cries and cheers of joy at the
victory on the part of our hero’s followers, while
there was corresponding gloom in the camp of
their unsuccessful rivals.</p>

<p>“Great work, old man!” complimented Tom’s
captain. “You did the trick for us!”</p>

<p>“It was an accident. I just managed to get
the ball, and run,” explained Tom.</p>

<p>“Lucky for us you did. It was an accident
that might have counted heavily against us.
What was the matter with you, Sam, in passing
the ball?”</p>

<p>“Aw, it wasn’t my fault. It slipped. Anyhow
our full-back had his hands on it, and he dropped
it.”</p>

<p>“I did not!” declared that player. “You
didn’t pass it to me fairly.”</p>

<p>“That’ll do!” interrupted the captain sharply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
“We don’t want any quarrels. Besides, we won
the game.”</p>

<p>Tom was surrounded by a joyous crowd of his
chums, and other admirers, as the team raced
from the field, and the throng of spectators filed
out of the stands.</p>

<p>“Well, how do you feel?” asked Jack of his
chum, as they were in their room together, after a
refreshing bath in the gymnasium.</p>

<p>“Great! I expect I’ll be a little lame and
stiff tomorrow though. Somebody gave me a
beaut dig in the ribs.”</p>

<p>“And I guess our whole team, and half of the
other one, was piled on me at one stage of the
game,” remarked Jack ruefully, as he rubbed his
back reflectively. “But it was a glorious win all
right. And how you did run, Tom!”</p>

<p>“I just had to, to make that touchdown.”
And then the two boys fell to talking of the game,
playing it all over again in detail.</p>

<p>“I just thought Sam would be mean enough
not to give you a chance,” remarked Jack.</p>

<p>“Oh, maybe it wasn’t intentional,” replied
our hero, who did not like to think ill of anyone.</p>

<p>“Get out! Of course it was. Ask any of the
fellows. But he fooled himself. That fumble
spoiled his plans, and you grabbed your opportunity.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>

<p>“And the ball too,” added Tom, as there came
a knock on their door.</p>

<p>“Come!” called Jack, and Bert Wilson and
George Abbot entered.</p>

<p>“Came to pay our respects,” spoke Bert.
“How does it feel to be hero? Aren’t your ears
burning, with the way the fellows are talking
about you?”</p>

<p>“Not exactly.”</p>

<p>“Why should his ears burn?” asked George.
“Is it because he&mdash;”</p>

<p>“Now you quit, or I’ll fire the dictionary at
you,” threatened Bert. “I told you I’d bring
you in on one condition, and that was that you
wouldn’t be a question box.”</p>

<p>“But I just wanted to know,” pleaded George.</p>

<p>“Then look it up in an encyclopedia,” directed
Jack, with a laugh. “I’m not going to answer any
more questions.”</p>

<p>“I hope you get a chance next game,” said
Tom to Bert. “Maybe you will after the fumble
Sam made.”</p>

<p>And Bert did. For there was a conference between
the Freshman captain and coach that night,
which resulted in Sam being sent back to the
scrub. He protested mightily.</p>

<p>“It wasn’t my fault&mdash;that fumble,” he declared.</p>

<p>“I think it was,” spoke the coach. “Anyhow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
you didn’t run the team as well as I thought you
would. Why, you didn’t give Fairfield half a
chance, and he showed what he could do when
he did get a show.”</p>

<p>“Aw, he can’t play football.”</p>

<p>“I think he can. Anyhow, you’ll shift back,
but if you do good work I’ll play you on the
regular team again before the season is over.”
And with this Sam had to be content.</p>

<p>Football practice was resumed on Monday,
and the team seemed to do better with the change
in quarter-backs. There was a match in the
middle of the week, and again Elmwood won
handily, Jack Fitch distinguishing himself by a
long run, while Tom made some star tackles, once
saving a touchdown by catching the player a short
distance from the goal.</p>

<p>“I’ll get even with Fairfield yet!” threatened
Sam to Nick. “He needn’t think he can run
things here.”</p>

<p>“Go in and do him,” advised his crony.
“Can’t you pick a quarrel with him, and have it
out?”</p>

<p>“I’ll try. If you see a chance, sail in and lick
him.”</p>

<p>“I will,” promised Nick, but Sam’s chance
came sooner than he expected, or, rather, he
made the opportunity.</p>

<p>There is a certain fine powder, a sort of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
pepper-snuff so fine that it can not be seen floating
about, yet which, if scattered about a room,
will irritate the eyes, nose and throat in a
marked degree. Sam bought some of this
powder, and making it up into a small paper
parcel, he watched his chance to slip it into Tom’s
handkerchief pocket.</p>

<p>“He’ll pull it out in class,” Sam explained to
Nick, “and set the whole room to sneezing. I’ll
try and have him do it in Latin recitation, and
Skeel won’t do a thing to him, for Tom sits in
the front row, and the prof. will see him.”</p>

<p>“Suppose Fairfield catches you?”</p>

<p>“I’ll take care that he doesn’t,” declared Sam,
and he was lucky enough to bring about his
cowardly trick undetected. As the students went
into the Latin class, presided over by Professor
Skeel, Sam slipped the sneezing powder into
Tom’s pocket, on top of his handkerchief. It
was quickly done, and, in the press, our hero
never noticed it. Then Sam quickly joined one of
his classmates, with whom he was more or less
thick, to prevent detection.</p>

<p>The recitation was about half over, and Tom,
who had been called on, had made a failure, for
a very hard question, and one he had never
dreamed would be brought up in class, was asked
him.</p>

<p>“Remain after the session, and write me out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
fifty lines of Cæsar,” ordered the mean instructor.
Tom shut his laps grimly. A little later he
pulled out his handkerchief, and, as might have
been expected, the powder flew out, scattering
from the paper. A few moments later a boy began
to sneeze, and soon the whole room was doing
it&mdash;even the professor.</p>

<p>Now Professor Skeel was no simpleton, if he
was mean, and he at once detected the irritating
powder. He realized at once that some one had
done it for a trick, and he had seen the paper fall
from Tom’s pocket, as the stuff scattered.</p>

<p>“Fairfield!” he exclaimed angrily, “did you
scatter that powder?”</p>

<p>“Not intentionally, sir.”</p>

<p>“What do you mean?”</p>

<p>“I mean that I did not know it was there.
Some one must have put it in my pocket for a
joke.”</p>

<p>“Nonsense! Do you expect me to believe
that?” the professor asked sharply of Tom.</p>

<p>“It’s the truth, sir.”</p>

<p>“Preposterous! I don’t believe you!”</p>

<p>“Sir!” exclaimed our hero, for he was not
in the habit of being told that he spoke an untruth.</p>

<p>“Don’t contradict me!” stormed the teacher.
“I say you did it on purpose&mdash;er&mdash;a-ker-choo!
On purpose&mdash;ker-choo! I have known it to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
done before, in other classes, but never in mine.
I will have no nonsense! Ker-choo!”</p>

<p>The professor was having hard work to talk,
for he sneezed quite often, as, in fact, did every
one in the class.</p>

<p>“This foolishness will have to stop!” he declared.
“I am certain you put that powder in
your own pocket, Fairfield.”</p>

<p>“I did not, sir.”</p>

<p>“Ha! Did any one here put that powder in
Fairfield’s pocket?” asked the professor.</p>

<p>Naturally the guilty Sam did not answer.</p>

<p>“There, you see!” exclaimed Mr. Skeel,
triumphantly. “I knew you did it&mdash;ker-choo!
But I have no doubt others may have been implicated,
and I will punish the whole class. You
will all of you write me out a hundred lines of
Cæsar.”</p>

<p>“That is not fair, sir,” spoke Tom boldly.</p>

<p>“What! You dare to tell me that!” stormed
Mr. Skeel.</p>

<p>“It is not fair,” insisted Tom. “Either I
alone am responsible, which I deny, or some one
else is. I assure you, sir, that no one in the class
entered with me into any trick to do this thing.”</p>

<p>“I don’t believe you. The whole class will
be punished unless the guilty one confesses&mdash;and
that includes you!” and the professor looked
angrily at Tom.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>

<p>Sam, of course, would not admit his part in
the affair, and as it was impossible to have the
class remain longer in the powder-infested room,
the students were dismissed. But Professor
Skeel would not remit the punishment.</p>

<p>“Say, this is tough luck&mdash;to have to write out
all that Latin, for something we didn’t do,” complained
Frank Nelson.</p>

<p>“I should say so,” added Harry Morse. “Why
don’t you own up to it, Fairfield, and save our
hides.”</p>

<p>“Because I didn’t do it intentionally.”</p>

<p>“Honestly?”</p>

<p>“Of course.”</p>

<p>“Say, if Tom says he didn’t do it, he didn’t,”
declared Jack.</p>

<p>“I guess that’s right,” agreed Harry. “Excuse
me, Tom,” and, to the credit of Tom’s classmates,
one and all expressed their belief in his innocence.
That is, all but Sam, and he kept quiet,
avoiding our hero. But, to ward off suspicion,
Sam growled louder than anyone about the task.</p>

<p>“I’d like to get hold of the fellow who used
that powder,” complained Ed. Ward.</p>

<p>“You won’t have to look far for him, I guess,”
said Jack, in a voice that only Tom heard.</p>

<p>“Do you think Sam did it?” asked Tom.</p>

<p>“I sure do. But you want to be certain of
your proof against him before you accuse him!”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>

<p>“I will,” declared Tom. “I’ll do a bit of detective
work.”</p>

<p>But he had no clews to work on, and, though
he was sure his enemy had made him and the
others suffer, he could prove nothing, for the
paper in which the powder was wrapped was
blank.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a><br />
<small>A CLASS WARNING</small></h2>


<p>“Well, if any of you young gentlemen have
any more powder to scatter around, you had
better do it, and have done with it,” remarked
Professor Skeel a day or so later, when Tom and
his chums came in to recite. “Only if you do,”
he added sarcastically, “the punishment I meted
out before will be doubled, and, in case the offense
is repeated a third time, I will go on doubling
the task, if necessary in arithmetical progression.”</p>

<p>He looked at the lads, with a sneering smile
on his face. There were mutterings of discontent
from all, save perhaps Sam Heller, for the lads
felt not only the injustice of the uncalled-for remarks,
but the former punishment still rankled
in their minds.</p>

<p>“No one seems inclined to take advantage of
my offer,” went on Professor Skeel, “so we will
go on with the lesson. Fairfield, you may begin.
We’ll see if you are prepared.”</p>

<p>Tom was, fortunately, and it seemed not only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>
to him, but to some of the others, as if the teacher
was displeased. Very likely he would have
been glad of a chance to punish Tom. But he
did not get it&mdash;at least that day.</p>

<p>“Unmannerly brute!” murmured Tom, as he
sat down. “I’ll pay you back yet. Not because
of what you did to me, but because you’re unfair
to the rest of the class.”</p>

<p>Tom hated unfairness, and he also felt that, in
a way, he was to blame for the punishment the
class had unjustly suffered. He had not been
able to learn anything about how the powder
came to be put in his pocket, though he suspected
Heller more than ever, as he saw how vindictive
the Freshman bully was toward him.</p>

<p>“I almost wish he’d pick a fight with me,”
thought Tom. “Then I could give him what he
deserves.”</p>

<p>But Sam saw no chance of doing any further
harm to the lad whom he hated with so little
cause.</p>

<p>“Why can’t you think of something to help
me out?” Sam asked of his crony.</p>

<p>“Think of something yourself,” retorted
Nick. “I’ve got my own troubles. We’re going
to haze the Freshmen tonight, and I’m on the
committee of rules and regulations,” and he
laughed.</p>

<p>“You are? Then this is my chance! Come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
over here where we can talk,” and the bully led
his crony to one side.</p>

<p>This talk followed the dismissal of Professor
Skeel’s Latin class, during which nothing had
occurred save that the instructor took every chance
of insulting the students.</p>

<p>“Say, if this keeps up much longer, we’ll have
to do something, Jack,” declared Tom, as they
proceeded on to another recitation.</p>

<p>“That’s right. But what can we do?”</p>

<p>“Oh, I’m going to think of something. I wish
we could haze him.”</p>

<p>“So do I. But I guess we’ll be hazed ourselves
first.”</p>

<p>“How’s that?”</p>

<p>“Why it’s this week that the Sophs get after
us. We may expect them any night now. Going
to crawl?”</p>

<p>“I am not! Might as well have it over with.”</p>

<p>“That’s what I say.”</p>

<p>Though Tom and his Freshmen chums rather
expected the advent of their traditional enemies,
the Sophomores, they hardly looked for visits
that same night, and so, when a knock came on
the door of the room occupied by Tom and Jack,
they opened it unsuspectingly.</p>

<p>“Here are two!” exclaimed a voice, as several
masked figures entered. “We’re in luck!
Grab ’em!”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p>

<p>The orders of the ringleader were obeyed.
Tom and Jack could not tell who their captors
were.</p>

<p>“I say, Tom, shall we fight ’em?” asked Jack,
always ready for a battle.</p>

<p>“No, what’s the use&mdash;in here?” asked Tom
significantly.</p>

<p>“Ha! Scrappers, eh?” remarked another
Sophomore. “You’re the kind we’re looking
for!”</p>

<p>“And maybe you’ll get more than you want!”
exclaimed Tom. Neither he nor Jack resisted as
they were led forth. It was a sort of unwritten
rule that no fighting against the hazers should
take place in the dormitories, as property was
likely to be damaged.</p>

<p>“Wait until we get in the open!” whispered
Tom to Jack, as they were being led down stairs.
“Then we’ll upset ’em if we can, and run. They
don’t look to be very husky.”</p>

<p>“That’s right,” agreed Tom’s chum.</p>

<p>“Ha! No plotting!” cried the ringleader,
giving Tom a dig in the ribs.</p>

<p>“I’ll give you that back with interest when I
get the chance,” murmured our hero.</p>

<p>Other parties of hazers made their appearance
in the corridor, some leading Bert Wilson and
George Abbot.</p>

<p>“Where are you taking me? What are you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
going to do? Is this allowed?” fired George at
his captors.</p>

<p>“Sure it’s allowed, you little question mark!”
exclaimed a Sophomore. “Trot along now.”</p>

<p>Tom and his chums were led over the campus.
They could see other little groups of prisoners
in like plight, and the Sophomores, all of whom
wore masks, gathered together with their
captives.</p>

<p>“To the river!” ordered the ringleaders.
“We’ll make ’em wade a bit.”</p>

<p>“Oh, they’re going to duck us!” whimpered
George. “I wonder why they do it?”</p>

<p>“Oh, there goes Why!” exclaimed Jack.
“He can’t keep still.”</p>

<p>“They’re not going to duck me!” murmured
Tom. “Come on, Jack, now’s our chance.
Make a break!”</p>

<p>It was the best chance Tom had seen, and, with
a sudden push, and a putting out of his foot, he
tripped the lad who had hold of his arm. Then,
with a well-directed punch, he paid him back for
the dig in the ribs. Tom was free to run.</p>

<p>“Come on, Jack!” he called. His chum, performing
a like trick, was also free, and their two
captors were down on the ground. But the flight
did not go unnoticed.</p>

<p>“Two are loose! Grab the two Freshies!”
yelled the lads who had held Tom and Jack. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
cry was taken up, and some of the Sophomores,
who had no Freshmen to take care of, ran after
the two chums. Our heroes might have gotten
away but for the fact that two lads, masked, who
were coming across the campus to join their fellows,
saw them, and waited to catch the two fleeing
ones.</p>

<p>Tom and Jack tried to dodge, but could not.
There was a clash, and Jack was caught. In a
moment other Sophomores came up, and had him.
Tom was struggling with his captor.</p>

<p>“Take that!” cried the latter, when, finding
he could not subdue Tom, he struck our hero a
blow in the face.</p>

<p>“I won’t take that from any one!” cried Tom
fiercely. “Hazing customs or not!” He retaliated,
and with such good measure that he
knocked the other down. The black mask came
off in the fall, and it was light enough for Tom
to see Sam Heller.</p>

<p>“You!” he cried. “You’re not a Sophomore!
You have no right to haze!”</p>

<p>“This is my second year here. I’m a Sophomore
by rights!” growled Sam, much put out that
his trick had been discovered. “I’ll get even
with you, too!”</p>

<p>In his rage he leaped up and rushed at Tom.
It was just the chance the other wanted, and our
hero promptly knocked Sam down again. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
was wild with rage. By this time a knot of
Sophomores surrounded Tom.</p>

<p>“Hold on there, Fresh!” cried some one who
seemed to be in authority. “This won’t do, you
know. You shouldn’t fight back when you’re being
hazed.”</p>

<p>“Has a Freshman the right to help the Sophs
haze us?” demanded Tom, as he recognized
Bruce Bennington in the objector. “Here’s Sam
Heller, of our class, joining against us.”</p>

<p>“Is that so?” asked Bruce in surprise. With
some other Seniors he had come out to see the
fun. “That’s not allowed, you know, Wendell,”
he said, turning to the leader of the Second year
lads.</p>

<p>“I didn’t know Heller was here,” replied
Wendell. “That’s straight. He has no right.
We beg your pardon, Fairfield. Sam, how did
this happen?” Wendell was justly indignant.</p>

<p>“Well, I claim I’m a Sophomore, and I would
be if I had a fair show. I thought I had a right
to help haze.” Sam was whining now, like all
cowards when found out. His trick, which he had
formed with the aid of Nick, had failed. The
two had planned to get Jack and Tom off alone,
during the general excitement over the hazing,
and thrash them.</p>

<p>“You’re not a Soph, and you can’t do any
hazing,” declared Wendell decidedly. “You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
ought to be hazed yourself, and you would be,
only you got yours last year. Come along now,
Fairfield, and take what’s coming to you.”</p>

<p>“All right,” agreed Tom good-naturedly. He
was satisfied with what he had done to Sam. The
crowd of Sophomores was now so large that there
was no chance for our hero and his chum to
escape.</p>

<p>“Take your medicine, Fairfield,” advised
Bruce with a laugh. “It won’t be very bad.”</p>

<p>“All right,” said Tom again, and he and
Jack were led back to their luckless mates, the
little group of Seniors following.</p>

<p>The hazing was not very severe. The Freshmen
were made to wade in the river up to their
knees, and then, with coats turned inside out,
forced to dance in a ring, while the Sophomores
laughed their delight, and played mouth organs.
Some few were tossed in blankets, and much
horse play was indulged in. But the discovery
of Heller’s trick rather discomfited the second
year lads, and they felt that there was a little
blight on their class. Otherwise the hazing
might have been more severe.</p>

<p>“Now then, form in line, and give three cheers
for the Sophs, and you can go home to your
beds,” declared Wendell. “Only remember,
every Freshman must wear his cap backwards
every time he comes on the campus, for the next<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
two weeks, and salute every Sophomore he meets,
under penalty of being hazed over again. Remember!
Now for the cheers!”</p>

<p>They were given, and the hazing was over.
No one had been much annoyed by it, save perhaps
Sam Heller.</p>

<p>“It didn’t work,” he grumbled to Nick, later
that night. “We had a fight, though.”</p>

<p>“Did you lick him?” asked Nick, who had
been separated from his crony during the fracas
with Tom.</p>

<p>“I sure did.”</p>

<p>“How’d you get that bruise near your eye?”
asked Nick.</p>

<p>“Oh&mdash;er&mdash;I&mdash;sort of fell,” stammered Sam.
The bruise was where Tom had hit him.</p>

<p>And thus the hazing of Tom’s Freshman class
passed into history.</p>

<p>Several weeks passed, and our hero came to
like the school more and more. He made many
new chums, and no more enemies, though Sam
and Nick disliked him more than ever, and
thought bitter thoughts, and devised endless
schemes to “get even,” as they expressed it,
though the debt was on their side. But, though
they annoyed Tom and his chum often, the latter
as often got back at them in hearty fashion.</p>

<p>Tom heard from his parents, that they had
arrived safely, and they said the business was going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
on satisfactorily. The weather was getting
colder each day, and the boys began to have
thoughts of skating and ice boating as soon as the
river should be frozen over. The football season
had closed.</p>

<p>Then, unexpectedly, there came another clash
with Professor Skeel. In Latin class one day
several students came unprepared, and failed in
reciting.</p>

<p>“We’ll stop right here!” exclaimed the professor.
“It is evident to me that an organized
attempt to miss in Latin is under way. I shall
double the usual number of lines that you are all
to write out. Perhaps that will teach you not
to trifle with me.”</p>

<p>Several protested at this, saying that the reason
for their failure was additional work in other
classes. Others, who had not failed, declared
that it was manifestly unfair to make them suffer
with the rest.</p>

<p>“Silence!” snapped the professor. “You
may stay here until your tasks are done,” and he
prepared to leave the room, intending to send a
monitor to take charge of the lads.</p>

<p>“Say, this is rank injustice!” exclaimed Jack.</p>

<p>“It sure is,” came from Tom. “And the ice
on the river is thick enough for skating, I believe.
If we didn’t have to stay here we could
cut the next lecture and have some fun.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>

<p>“We sure could. What’ll we do?”</p>

<p>“Let’s haze Skeel!” suggested Bert Wilson,
for there was no one in authority in the room
now.</p>

<p>“Let’s send him a warning,” suggested Tom.
“We’ll write it out in Latin, and threaten to go
on a strike, or burn him in effigy if he doesn’t
act more fair. How’s that?”</p>

<p>“Good!” exclaimed several. “Tom, you
write out the notice.”</p>

<p>“I will!” agreed our hero, and then a monitor
came in, and silence was enforced. But Tom, after
hurrying through the prescribed number of
lines of prose, began work on the warning.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a><br />
<small>A RUNAWAY ICEBOAT</small></h2>


<p>“How are we going to get it to him?” asked
Bert Wilson, as the Latin class, its members having
finished their punishment, filed out on the
campus.</p>

<p>“Mail it to him,” suggested Jack.</p>

<p>“No, leave it at his door,” advised Henry
Miller.</p>

<p>“Huh! Who’d do it?” asked George Abbot.</p>

<p>“There you go again, Why!” exclaimed Tom
with a laugh, as he passed around the warning
he had composed.</p>

<p>“Well, I mean who would have the nerve to
go up and leave that at Skeel’s door?” went on
the small lad. “I wouldn’t.”</p>

<p>“I would!” declared Tom. “I’m tired of being
imposed upon!”</p>

<p>“And so am I!” exclaimed Jack. “I’m with
you. Let’s get a lot of Freshmen, tog up in masks,
or with pillow cases over our heads, and leave
the warning at his door. That’ll make him be
more decent, I guess.”</p>

<p>“All right,” agreed Tom. “We’ll do it.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>

<p>That same night Tom, and several bold spirits,
with pillow cases, or white cloths over their
coats, slipped from the dormitory where the
Freshmen lived, moved and had their being. Tom
carried his warning.</p>

<p>It was in Latin, more or less accurate, and in
plain terms demanded on the part of Professor
Skeel a more tolerant attitude toward the Freshman
class, or, failure would be met with a burning
in effigy of the disliked instructor. And the
boys meant it, too.</p>

<p>“All ready now?” asked Tom as he and his
chums, in the dark shadows of a thick hedge
around Mr. Skeel’s house had adjusted their
head-coverings. “All ready?”</p>

<p>“Lead on!” whispered Jack. “Who’s going
to knock at the door?”</p>

<p>“I will,” agreed Tom. “We’ll go around to
his ‘study,’ as he calls it. It’s got a door opening
directly into the garden, and he’ll answer the
knock himself.”</p>

<p>Advancing from amid group of his chums a
little later, with the warning held in the cleft end
of a long stick, Tom knocked on Mr. Skeel’s
door. The professor was in his study, poring
over some book, and laying new traps, in the way
of difficult questions, for his pupils.</p>

<p>“Who’s there?” he cried sharply, at the
sound of Tom’s rap.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p>

<p>A groan was the answer.</p>

<p>“What nonsense is this?” demanded Professor
Skeel, as he rose from his chair.</p>

<p>“If those are students they’ll pay dearly for
this nonsense!” he was heard to exclaim, as
he opened the door. The sight of the white-robed
figures, with one standing out from the
others, holding forth a letter in a cleft stick, was
a distinct surprise to the professor.</p>

<p>“What is the meaning of this?” he cried.
“Who are you? I demand to know!”</p>

<p>Groans were his only answer, and Tom waved
the letter before the professor’s face. In very
wonderment the instructor took it and then, with
a final series of groans, Tom and the others
turned and hurried away.</p>

<p>“Come back. I demand that you return. Take
those silly cloths from your heads, and let me see
who you are!” cried Professor Skeel, but our
hero and his chums knew better than to tarry.</p>

<p>“Halt!” cried the professor. He started after
the lads, but, as he reached the bottom step
he tripped on a stick, and fell and, as he had on
light slippers, the contact of his toes with the
ground was anything but comfortable.</p>

<p>Uttering an exclamation of anger, the professor
went back into his study with the letter,
while Tom and his chums hurried to their rooms,
getting to them undetected.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>

<p>“What’s this?” burst out Professor Skeel, as
he read Tom’s Latin warning. “They demand
better treatment! Burn me in effigy, eh? Why
this is a threat! A threatening letter! I’ll have
the entire Freshman class suspended! I shall see
Dr. Meredith at once!”</p>

<p>In his anger he did go over and see the head
master, showing him the letter.</p>

<p>“Hum! Well,” mused Doctor Meredith.
“That is a sort of threat, Professor Skeel, but&mdash;er&mdash;would
not it be well to&mdash;er&mdash;to grant the
class a few more privileges? Remember they are
first year lads, unused to the discipline of a college,
and, therefor, not to be dealt with too
harshly. Could you not grant their request?”</p>

<p>“What? My dear sir! Grant a request
coupled with a threat? Never! I demand the
suspension of the entire Freshman class, until the
perpetrators of this outrage are discovered, and
then I demand their expulsion. Why, Doctor
Meredith, they had the audacity to call on <em>me</em>,
disguised. On <em>me</em>! They had the effrontery to
threaten <em>me</em> in a miserably composed Latin
scrawl. <em>Me!</em> I demand the suspension of the entire
class!”</p>

<p>“Hum! Well, I’m afraid I can’t do that,”
said the head master. “I shall take this under
advisement, and act in the morning. But I can’t
suspend the whole class. They are not all guilty,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
I’m sure,” and nothing the irate professor said
could change this decision.</p>

<p>In the morning Doctor Meredith referred to
the matter, not half as strongly, however, as Professor
Skeel thought should have been done.
There was no threat to suspend the class, and all
the doctor did was to suggest that different measures
be taken in the future. He also asked those
engaged in the affair to make themselves
known.</p>

<p>“As if we would!” exclaimed Tom, later. And
I hardly believe Doctor Meredith expected that
the lads would. He had been a college master
for many years, and he knew boys, which Professor
Skeel did not.</p>

<p>“Oh, but we’ll get it in Latin class,” predicted
Jack. “We’d better all be prepared today.”</p>

<p>And they all were, very well prepared, but that
did not save them from an angry tongue-lashing,
in which the professor, on his own account, demanded
to know those who had been instrumental
in writing and bringing the warning.</p>

<p>Of course no one answered, and, as Tom had
taken the precaution to print out the letter, his
handwriting was not recognized. Every device,
however, that an angry and bullying teacher could
bring to bear, was used on the class. But no one
failed, and no punishment could be inflicted.
Though had the professor been able to use his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
power he would have administered corporal
punishment to all the Freshmen.</p>

<p>The result was, however, that the Latin recitation
was perfect, and, in his heart the instructor
was just a little bit afraid of the threat of burning
him in effigy. So, in a few days he did mend his
ways somewhat, and the class began to feel that
Tom’s plan had worked wonders. But the end
was not yet.</p>

<p>“Well, Tom, I’ve had enough of this!” exclaimed
Jack, one cold afternoon, when the two
chums had been “boning” away in their room for
some time. “Let’s go hire that iceboat you were
talking of, and have a sail on the river. I guess
she’s frozen over thick enough.”</p>

<p>“I’m with you!” and Tom tossed his book
to one side. “Let’s get George, Bert and some
of the others.”</p>

<p>Some days before Tom had discovered that
the man of whom the lads hired their rowboats,
had a couple of ice craft for rent, and he had engaged
one for the first good day.</p>

<p>A little later Tom and several of his chums,
including Jack, were on their way to the frozen
river, lessons being over for the day.</p>

<p>“Well, where are you bound for?” asked
Bruce Bennington, as he met Tom and the others
near the stream.</p>

<p>“Ice boating. Come along,” invited Tom.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>

<p>“Thanks. I believe I will. I was going for a
skate, but somehow, I don’t feel like exerting
myself.”</p>

<p>There was a look of worriment still on the
Senior’s face, and he talked as though the trouble
that was worrying him had not passed away.
Tom wanted to help him, but knew it was best
to say nothing.</p>

<p>A part of the river, where the water was not
so deep, nor the current under the ice so swift as
elsewhere, had been set aside by the school
authorities as the place where the students might
skate. They were forbidden to use the steel runners
elsewhere, as a matter of safety, and, as the
skating course was plenty long enough, none of
the lads ventured on the part of the river where
the ice boats were used. In fact the presence of
those craft, of which there were several, made it
necessary that the numerous skaters keep clear of
them.</p>

<p>The place where Tom hired the iceboat was
quite a distance from the skating course, and, in
consequence of a bend in the river, none of the
other pupils, who were indulging in sports on
the steel blades, were in sight. There was one
iceboat out on the broad surface of the river as
our hero and his chums arrived.</p>

<p>“Know how to sail one?” asked Bruce, as he
took his place in the shallow box that served as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
sort of cockpit, while some of the boys perched
on the runners.</p>

<p>“Fairly well,” replied Tom, and soon they
were skimming over the slippery surface, with
Tom at the helm. It was great sport, and they
liked it immensely.</p>

<p>“This is fine!” exclaimed Bruce, with sparkling
eyes, and something of a return of his old
manner. “It beats skating!” and he kicked his
skates that he had tossed into the box near him.</p>

<p>“Oh, skating’s all right!” declared Tom, as
he changed the course slightly. “We’ll have
some skating races soon, won’t we?”</p>

<p>“Yes, it’s about time for them,” answered the
Senior.</p>

<p>After sailing for several miles Tom decided to
put up a sort of auxiliary sail on the boat, to get
more speed. It was fitted to a short bamboo
mast, about five feet high.</p>

<p>“You’ll all have to get out while I fix it,” suggested
Tom, as he let the wind spill out of the big
sail, and brought the boat up with a turn, while
it gradually came to a stop.</p>

<p>They piled out, stamping up and down to warm
their rather benumbed legs and feet. Tom and
Jack were soon putting up the little sail.</p>

<p>“I’ve got to whittle down the end of the mast
to make it fit in,” declared Tom after a trial.
“Lend me your knife, Jack.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>

<p>Bruce had put on his skates for a little turn
while he waited, and the others were racing up
and down. Tom and Jack were working over
the auxiliary sail, standing a short distance away
from the iceboat, when there came a sudden puff
of wind. The main sheet became caught, the big
sail filled, and a moment later the empty iceboat
was racing over the smooth, frozen river at
dangerous speed!</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a><br />
<small>THE SKATING RACE</small></h2>


<p>“Look at that!” cried Jack.</p>

<p>“See it go!” shouted Bert.</p>

<p>“How did it happen to get away?” the ever-questioning
George wanted to know.</p>

<p>“By Jove!” murmured Bruce. “He’d ask
questions if it was the end of the world. He’d
want to know why it hadn’t happened before.”</p>

<p>“Wow!” came from Tom, as he started after
the disappearing iceboat. “That’s bad! I’m responsible
for it.” He started off on a run, as
though he could catch the skimming craft.</p>

<p>“You’ll never get her!” yelled Bruce to him.
He had taken off his skates, and hurried up beside
Tom.</p>

<p>“I’ve got to get her!” cried our hero. “She
may run against the bank and go to smash.”</p>

<p>“You can’t stop her. She’s too far off. Look
at her veer! She’ll capsize in another minute!”</p>

<p>Indeed the unguided craft was slewing about,
making quick turns and big circles as the wind
blew her. Then Tom cried out:</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p>

<p>“I’m going to catch her. Lend me your
skates, Bruce.”</p>

<p>“You can’t skate as fast as that boat is going!”</p>

<p>“I can try. Besides I’m not going to do all
skating.”</p>

<p>“What then?” asked Jack, curious to know
what scheme his chum had in his mind.</p>

<p>“This!” and Tom pointed to the small sail he
had been going to rig on the craft when she went
off by herself. “I can hold this at my back by
the mast, and the wind will blow me along.”</p>

<p>“Good!” cried Bruce, who understood.
“That’s the idea Fairfield, here are my skates.”</p>

<p>Tom soon had clamped them on his feet, and
then, holding the improvised sail at his back, he
headed for the runaway iceboat. The sail was
almost like the regular ones skaters use.</p>

<p>Tom soon developed great speed, for the wind
was strong and directly at his back. The others
started to run after him. The iceboat was some
distance ahead, but Tom was rapidly overhauling
her.</p>

<p>“I’ll get her before she goes to smash,” he
murmured hopefully. The boat suddenly heeled
over, and Tom thought surely she was going to
capsize. But she righted, and then went off on a
new tack. Tom saw his chance.</p>

<p>“I can quarter across and get aboard, if she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
doesn’t veer again!” he cried, and he altered his
course. Nearer and nearer he came to the iceboat,
until he saw that he would soon pass her.
“If only she doesn’t veer around,” he murmured
hopefully.</p>

<p>Fortunately, however, the wind held in that
direction for a few minutes, and the main sheet
of the sail was caught in such a way as to hold the
craft steady.</p>

<p>“Now to do some skating on my own hook!”
cried Tom, as he cast aside the little sail. He
struck out with all his strength and speed, and,
as he came close to the boat, with a leap and a
spring he hurled himself into the blanket-covered
cockpit, landing with a thud.</p>

<p>It was the work of but a moment to seize the
rudder, and put the boat about, so that she was
in control, though even as Tom did this she nearly
capsized.</p>

<p>“Whoa, now!” he called, as to a restive horse,
and then, settling himself down, he sent the boat
back on a series of tacks to pick up his chums.</p>

<p>“Say, did you see him skate!” exclaimed Bert
Wilson in admiration, as he called attention to
the burst of speed on Tom’s part.</p>

<p>“I should say yes,” admitted Jack. “If we
have a race I’ll back Tom.”</p>

<p>“He looks like a winner,” commented Bruce
quietly.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p>

<p>Tom brought the iceboat up to his chums, and
they got aboard. Jack steered while Tom took
off the skates he had not had time to remove, and
then he went to where he had dropped the little
sail.</p>

<p>“I guess we’ll get along without it,” he remarked.
“We’re going fast enough.”</p>

<p>“I never thought you’d get the boat in time,”
spoke Bruce admiringly. “Where’d you learn
to skate, Fairfield?”</p>

<p>“Oh, I could make pretty good time ever since
I was a small lad, but I sort of broke my record
today, I guess.”</p>

<p>They were soon back at the boathouse, having
talked on the way of the little accident and of
Tom’s skill.</p>

<p>“You’ll enter for the class races, won’t you?”
inquired Reddy Burke of Tom, a little later,
when Bruce had told of the Freshman’s skill.</p>

<p>“I’ll be glad to.”</p>

<p>“They’ll come off in about a week if the ice
holds,” went on the red-haired athlete.</p>

<p>Practice for the skating races was soon under
way. The affair was to settle the championship
of the school. Later, intercollegiate contests
would be held.</p>

<p>“Going to try?” asked Nick of his crony,
when the notice of the ice sports was posted. “I
hear Fairfield is a wonder.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p>

<p>“What do I care? I can skate some myself,
and if I can’t win, maybe I can spoil his chances.”</p>

<p>“How?”</p>

<p>“Oh, I haven’t made up my mind yet.”</p>

<p>It was a cold, clear day, the ice was firm and
smooth, and it was just right for a skating race.
The elimination trials had been held, and the
representatives of each class selected. There
were four each from the Freshmen, Sophomore,
Junior and Senior divisions. Tom, of course, was
picked, and so was Jack, and, somewhat to the
surprise of many, Sam Heller also represented
the first year lads.</p>

<p>“Look out for him,” advised Jack to his
chum, when they were getting ready. “If he
skates near enough to you he may try some mean
trick.”</p>

<p>“I’ll watch out, but I’m not worried.”</p>

<p>“I wonder if he’d be mean enough to squeal
to our Latin prof. about the warning letter you
wrote?” went on Jack. “I’ve often thought of
that. He’s equal to it.”</p>

<p>“Oh, I don’t believe Heller would dare do a
thing like that,” spoke Tom. “I’m not alarmed.
There, I guess my skates are sharp enough,” for
the two had been putting an extra edge on the
steel runners in anticipation of the contest.</p>

<p>There was a big crowd present to watch the
skaters, who were lined up, receiving their last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>
instructions from the officials. Clamps were being
tightened, straps made more snug, and the
last little attentions being given.</p>

<p>“All ready?” called the starter.</p>

<p>“Ready!” answered the lads in turn.</p>

<p>“Look out for Sam. He’s quite near you,”
warned Jack to his chum, in a low voice. Tom
nodded and looked across at the bully, who had
his head turned away.</p>

<p>“Go!” cried the starter, and his pistol cracked
out on the frosty air.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a><br />
<small>WINNING AGAINST ODDS</small></h2>


<p>The skaters were off together, almost like a
line of well-drilled soldiers on the double-quick,
and, as they glided forward, there came a shrill
burst of cheers from the student spectators.</p>

<p>“Rah! Rah! Freshmen! Elmwood Freshmen!”
cried the members of that class, to urge on
their comrades.</p>

<p>“Boom! Boom! Boomity-boom Seniors!
Siss!” came the peculiar cry of the four-year
lads.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i1">“Sophomore! Sophomore!<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Rah! Rah! Rah!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Going like a trolley car!”<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p>That was the second year boys cheering.</p>

<p>Then came the call of the Juniors:</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">“June! June, beautiful June.<br /></span>
<span class="i1">We’ll win the race and win it soon.<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Siss!<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Boom!<br /></span>
<span class="i7">Rah!<br /></span>
<span class="i9">Juniors!”<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
<p>The line was a trifle broken now, as one or
two forged ahead of the others, and among them
was Tom. Yet he was holding himself in check,
and narrowly watching the others, for the race
was not a short one, and he knew the danger of
getting winded too early in it, and spending his
strength so that he had none left for a final
spurt.</p>

<p>Jack was even with his chum, though he was
not as good a skater as was our hero. Sam
Heller was a little behind, but in practice he had
done well, and Tom knew that in his enemy he
had a dangerous rival.</p>

<p>Bruce Bennington was skating well, the only
one of the Seniors who seemed to stand a chance,
while a member each of the Junior and Sophomore
class was up in the front now.</p>

<p>“Everyone is holding back,” said Jack to Tom.</p>

<p>“Yes, waiting for a break. I’ve a good notion
to give it to ’em, and take a chance.”</p>

<p>“Don’t you do it. Let some one else set the
pace. Hold back. We want to win this race for
the Freshman class, and we’re depending on
you.”</p>

<p>“Hope I don’t disappoint you. There goes
Blaisdell for the Juniors. Come on!”</p>

<p>One of the skaters had spurted and at once the
others increased their speed to keep up to him.
The race was now on in earnest, and soon half the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
distance was covered, with no one markedly in
the lead. Several had dropped out, hopelessly
distanced, but there were enough of each class left
to make the result doubtful.</p>

<p>“I wonder what Sam is going to do?” mused
Nick Johnson, as he watched his crony. “He’d
better get busy.”</p>

<p>The skaters had turned, and were coming back
toward the starting point. They could hear the
cheers of their comrades, and the cries of the followers
of the various classes could be distinguished.</p>

<p>“Better hit it up, Tom,” advised Jack.</p>

<p>“I will. Here goes!”</p>

<p>Tom struck out with more speed and power
than he had previously used. He imagined he
was once more chasing the runaway iceboat, and
he gripped his fists and clenched his teeth as he
made up his mind to win.</p>

<p>But, even as he spurted, others glided up, almost
beside him, and one of them was Sam Heller.
Tom watched out of the corner of his eye,
and it seemed to him that Sam was edging over
toward him.</p>

<p>“I wonder what he’s doing that for?” mused
Tom.</p>

<p>So near were they to the finish line now that
the calls of the class cheerers came clearly
through the cold, crisp air.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>

<p>“Come on, Freshmen! Come on! Win!
Win!”</p>

<p>“Don’t let ’em beat you, Seniors!”</p>

<p>“Skate. Skate. Oh you Sophs!”</p>

<p>“Juniors forever. Juniors to the front!”</p>

<p>Thus the students cheered.</p>

<p>“I’m going to win!” whispered Tom fiercely
to himself.</p>

<p>The finish line was a hundred feet away. Tom
looked ahead, and saw a confused mass of excited
spectators, waving flags and banners, tossing
caps in the air, dancing about and uttering
yells at the tops of their voices. He looked to
left and right and saw on one side of him, Bruce
Bennington, and, on the other, Sam Heller. Jack
Fitch was not in sight.</p>

<p>“I guess Jack’s out of it,” mused Tom, regretfully.</p>

<p>He gathered himself for a final effort, and,
just as he struck out with increased force he saw
Sam lurch over toward him.</p>

<p>“Look out!” Tom yelled.</p>

<p>The bully returned no answer. He seemed to
have lost control of himself. Nearer and nearer
he glided toward Tom.</p>

<p>In vain did our hero try to get out of the way
of what in a flash he knew to be an intentional attempt
to foul him. But he could not escape without
swerving so far to one side as to mean the
loss of the race.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p>

<p>“Look out for yourself!” warned Tom, determined
to give way no longer, and he braced himself
for the shock.</p>

<p>It came an instant later, when Sam’s skate
struck Tom’s, staggering him.</p>

<p>“Excuse me!” panted the bully, unnecessarily
loud. “I couldn’t help it!”</p>

<p>Tom said nothing, but he thought a lot.</p>

<p>Then he felt himself falling. There was but
one thing to do, and Tom did it. He was staggering
forward, trying in vain to remain upright
long enough to cross the line. The only way he
could do it was to gain more momentum than that
caused by Sam’s foul interference. That was to
jump, and Tom did it.</p>

<p>Up in the air he rose, remembering the time
he had cleared barrels on the ice in an obstacle
race.</p>

<p>Up and up he went, fairly hurling himself forward.
As he did so he had a confused glimpse of
Sam Heller sprawling on the ice, and tumbling
over and over. Tom also saw Bruce Bennington
looking at him in astonishment. Our hero also
had a glance at representatives of the Junior and
Sophomore classes fairly doubled up in a desperate
effort to win the race.</p>

<p>“But I’ll do it! I’ll do it, if I don’t break a
skate when I come down, or trip,” thought Tom,
desperately.</p>

<p>The jump had accomplished the very purpose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
for which the plucky Freshman intended it. Just
as when you trip, and fall forward, if you can
suddenly jump, and equalize the momentum given
the upward part of our body, while overcoming
the inertia of your feet, caused by the contact
with some obstacle&mdash;just in this way Tom had
jumped.</p>

<p>He saw the finish line but a few feet ahead.
The next moment, amid a perfect riot of cheers,
he came down with resounding force on the ice,
his steel runners ringing out in the frosty air.</p>

<p>For a second he feared that he could not keep
his balance, but by a desperate effort he did, and
with great speed he slid across the mark, and
fairly into the crowd of students bunched beyond
it. Tom was unable to stop himself.</p>

<p>A quick glance showed that he was alone when
he crossed the finish mark. He had won the race
against big odds!</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a><br />
<small>MORE TROUBLE</small></h2>


<p>“Freshmen win!”</p>

<p>“Rah, Freshmen! Elmwood forever! Freshmen
win!”</p>

<p>“Hurray for Tom Fairfield!”</p>

<p>“And after a foul, too. He won after a foul!”</p>

<p>“Never mind. We won’t claim it. Maybe it
was an accident. Heller may be hurt!”</p>

<p>“Seniors Second! Bruce Bennington is second!”</p>

<p>These were only a few of the cries that greeted
the achievement of our hero as he won the school
race. He had come to a stop amid a knot of his
classmates, who gathered about him, clasping him
by the hand, clapping him on the back, and generally
congratulating him.</p>

<p>“Great work, old man!”</p>

<p>“Magnificent jump!”</p>

<p>“How in the world did you do it?”</p>

<p>“I don’t know myself,” confessed Tom, with
a laugh. “I just had to&mdash;that’s all.”</p>

<p>“Are you hurt, Tom?” demanded Jack, anxiously,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
as he skated up to his chum. “Did his
skate hit your ankle?” for well he knew the
agonizing pain that follows the blow of the point
of a skate against that tender part of the foot.</p>

<p>“No, not a bit,” replied Tom. “His skate
just glanced off mine, but I’d have gone down
if I hadn’t jumped. Is Heller hurt?”</p>

<p>“I guess not much, though he’s limping to the
finish. It would serve him right if he was. He
deliberately fouled you.”</p>

<p>“I think so myself, but I’m not going to say
anything.”</p>

<p>“Well, maybe it’s best. Class honor, you
know.”</p>

<p>The officials of the race were marking down
the time, and formally declaring Tom the winner,
with Bruce Bennington second and Peter Ranson,
of the Sophomore class, third. The Juniors were
not in the race at all, much to their disappointment.</p>

<p>“I&mdash;er&mdash;I presume your collision with Fairfield
was an <em>accident</em>&mdash;was it not, Heller?”
asked Professor Livingston Hammond, the fat
and jolly professor who had acted as one of the
officials. “We saw it from here.”</p>

<p>“It was an accident&mdash;certainly,” replied Sam,
sharply. He had taken off his skates, and came
limping up. “I could not help it. My skate
struck a small piece of wood, and I slid over toward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
him. I tried to warn him, but it was too
late. If anyone doubts my word&mdash;”</p>

<p>“No one dreamed of doubting you&mdash;or even
mentioned it,” interrupted Mr. Hammond with a
smile, yet he looked at Sam narrowly.</p>

<p>“Three cheers for Professor Hammond!”
called someone, and they were given with a will.
Out on the fringe of spectators stood Professor
Skeel, with a frown on his face. No one had
cheered him, and he felt no elation that a member
of his Freshman Latin class had won the race.
In fact, there was a sneer on his face as he saw
the ovation accorded to Tom.</p>

<p>“I more than half believe that he wrote that
insulting and threatening letter to me,” Professor
Skeel muttered. “I must find out, and if he
did&mdash;” a cruel smile played over his features.
“Ah, there is some one else I must have a talk
with!” he exclaimed as he saw Bruce Bennington
walking along, swinging his skates. “Come here
Bennington,” he called, and the face of Bruce
went rather white, and there was a nervous air in
his manner, not to say a tinge of fear, as he approached
the unpleasant instructor.</p>

<p>“Well, sir?” he asked.</p>

<p>“Are you ready to settle with me?” asked
Professor Skeel, in a frosty tone.</p>

<p>“No, Professor, I’m sorry to say I am not.”</p>

<p>“When will you be?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>

<p>“I can’t say. Really, I am having it harder
than you can imagine.”</p>

<p>“Harder? Don’t you suppose that I have my
own troubles, too? Have you appealed to your
folks?”</p>

<p>“No, and I’m not going to!” Bruce spoke
fiercely.</p>

<p>“You may have to,” and the Latin instructor’s
tone was threatening. “I shall not wait much
longer, and if you do not make the appeal I shall
do so myself.”</p>

<p>“Oh, Professor Skeel, surely you wouldn’t do
that!”</p>

<p>“I certainly shall, unless you settle with me
soon. I will wait but a little longer.”</p>

<p>“Well, I’ll see what I can do,” spoke Bruce,
wearily.</p>

<p>“You’d better,” answered the professor significantly,
as he turned aside.</p>

<p>Tom, coming along with Jack and some of his
chums, heard the last words, though no one else
seemed to have done so. He also noticed the
threatening attitude of the Latin instructor, and
was aware of the despondent attitude of the
Senior student.</p>

<p>“I wish I knew what was up between them,”
mused Tom. “I would do a lot to help Bruce.
Maybe it’s some trouble about examination
papers. And yet I know Bruce wouldn’t be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
guilty of cheating, or anything like that. I
wonder what it is?”</p>

<p>But Tom had little time to think by himself
quietly, for his chums were jostling all about him,
talking of the race, congratulating him over and
over again, while some spoke significantly of
Heller’s action.</p>

<p>“Oh, forget that,” advised Tom. “He came
out of it worse than I did.”</p>

<p>“I should say yes,” agreed Jack. “He might
have broken his leg trying a trick like that.”</p>

<p>Tom’s chums crowded into his room, and that
night there was an impromptu and surreptitious
little spread, held there in violation of the school
rules.</p>

<p>Professor Skeel got word of it through one of
the monitors, and went to notify Doctor Meredith.</p>

<p>“Hum, some of the Freshmen eating in the
room of young Fairfield, eh?” murmured the
good doctor.</p>

<p>“Yes. In direct violation of rule twenty-one.
If you come with me now, we can catch them in
the act.”</p>

<p>“Hum. Yes! Let me see, didn’t Fairfield win
the skating race today, Professor Skeel?”</p>

<p>“He did, certainly, but I don’t see what that
has to do with it,” snapped Mr. Skeel.</p>

<p>“Well, perhaps it has. I&mdash;er&mdash;I think&mdash;well,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>
on the whole, I think I won’t disturb the boys
tonight, Professor Skeel.”</p>

<p>“What! You will suffer a rule to be broken?”</p>

<p>“Well, in view of the facts, and under the circumstances,
I guess it won’t do the rule much
harm,” spoke the doctor dryly.</p>

<p>Professor Skeel threw up his hands helplessly,
and walked off, muttering to himself. And Tom
and his chums were not disturbed that night.</p>

<p>“But I’ll take that Fairfield lad down a peg,”
the irate Latin instructor muttered as he went
into his house. He sat up late that night, evolving
a plan to discover who had sent him the
threatening letter, and at last he exclaimed:</p>

<p>“I believe I have it. That will give me a clew.
And then&mdash;!”</p>

<p>He smiled sourly as he took out the screed
Tom had printed, and looked closely at it.</p>

<p>“I will find out who composed that!” he went
on, “and when I do he shall suffer for it!”</p>

<p>The Freshman class little realized what it was
in for at the hands of Professor Skeel.</p>

<p>It was a day or so after the great skating race,
when the Freshmen filed into Latin recitation,
that they became aware of something unusual in
the air. Professor Skeel looked at them individually
and collectively with a mocking smile on
his face.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>

<p>“He’s got it in for some of us,” murmured
Tom to Jack.</p>

<p>“Silence!” exclaimed the instructor, banging
a ruler on his desk. “I will permit no levity!”</p>

<p>The boys filed to their seats more than usually
silent. The professor opened his book, and some
one sneezed. It was a perfectly natural and unavoidable
sneeze, yet it set off the mine that had
been smouldering in the professor’s breast for
many days.</p>

<p>“Stop that!” he cried. “If I find that any
more of that abominable powder has been scattered
about I will, on my own responsibility, personally
chastise the guilty student!”</p>

<p>He paused and looked about. Suspiciously he
sniffed the air, but there was none of the powder
in evidence.</p>

<p>“It was well for the entire class&mdash;the entire
class I repeat,” he said, “that there is none.
Now we will proceed!”</p>

<p>He was unusually severe that day. The slightest
slip was noticed, and the culprit was made to
sit down with a lesson to write out. Scarcely
one escaped, and when an error was made the
professor, instead of correcting it in a gentle
manner, referred sarcastically to the “imbecility”
of the lad, and, in bullying language, demanded
to know where he had received his early instruction.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>

<p>There were murmurs of discontent. Tom
flushed angrily when he was needlessly insulted,
and there came a look on his face that made Jack
Fitch think:</p>

<p>“Tom won’t stand much more of this.
There’ll be a blow-up pretty soon, and I’ll be glad
of it. So will the rest of the class. Tom has
something up his sleeve against Skeel, and the
sooner it comes out the better. I’m going to sit
tight and watch. It’s time for an eruption!”</p>

<p>The recitation went on, from bad to worse.
Student after student was rigged and browbeaten,
until even those who had come to class well prepared
felt their knowledge slipping from them,
and they floundered, and made all sorts of wild
answers and impossible guesses as to the right
translation.</p>

<p>“It is just what I should expect of a class of
cowards who would write an anonymous letter!”
snarled the professor. “You must have had
nice bringings-up&mdash;all of you!”</p>

<p>There were one or two hisses.</p>

<p>“Stop!” exclaimed the teacher. “I’ll not permit
that! I will have silence in my classes. Now,
Fairfield, try again, and see if you can make any
more errors than the last boy!”</p>

<p>Tom, with flushed face, began to recite, but
he was stopped almost before he had begun.</p>

<p>“How many times must I tell you that your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
pronunciation of that word is hopelessly
wrong?” snarled Professor Skeel.</p>

<p>“I don’t believe that you ever told me so,” answered
Tom quietly.</p>

<p>“Sir!” The professor fairly glared at our
hero.</p>

<p>Tom repeated his remark respectfully.</p>

<p>“That’s enough!” cried the teacher. “I will
not be insulted by you! Nor by any one in the
class! It is evident that none of you know this
lesson. You will have it again tomorrow, and, in
addition twice the usual amount of Latin to do. I
will hammer some knowledge into your heads in
spite of yourselves!”</p>

<p>It was a most unfair and unjust task to inflict,
and every boy resented it. Yet what could they
do? All eyes seemed turned on Tom, and our
hero bit his lips to keep back his temper.</p>

<p>“We will pass over this part of the lesson,”
went on the professor. “I now want you to print
out for me&mdash;print out, mind, the following sentences
in Latin. You will not write them, but you
will print them!”</p>

<p>A gasp of surprise ran around the room.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a><br />
<small>TOM’S DARING PROPOSAL</small></h2>


<p>“Silence!” proclaimed Professor Skeel, as he
heard the indrawn breathing. “Not a word!”</p>

<p>No one seemed likely to utter it under the circumstances,
but the lads were doing some hard
thinking.</p>

<p>“As I stated, you will print this lesson,” went
on the instructor. “I want to see if you can <em>print</em>
as well as you <em>write</em>,” he added with a mocking
smile.</p>

<p>In a flash it came to Tom and the others what
the object of the queer task was. It was to gain
some evidence, or clew, to the printing in the
threatening letter. All eyes were turned on Tom,
and then, as if aware that this might implicate
him, the lads looked in various directions.</p>

<p>Fortunately Professor Skeel was at the board
setting down the sentences he wished copied, or
he might have noticed the glances turned toward
our hero, and have guessed the secret. Then he
would have been at no pains to try his little trick.
As it was he proceeded with it, chuckling to himself
as he thought that it would give him the information
he desired.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p>

<p>But Tom was wise in his day. It was not the
first time he had matched his wits against some
unfair instructor, and he at once resolved on his
plan.</p>

<p>He had printed the threatening letter in the
usual, straight up and down characters. As he
now began to print out the Latin exercise he
used, in part, letters that sloped forward, and
others that sloped backward. Not once did Tom
use an upright character.</p>

<p>“There,” he thought, as he neared the end of
the short exercise, “if he thinks he can compare
any of the words in this, with the words in the
letter I handed him on the end of the stick, he’s
a good one.”</p>

<p>Tom noticed, as did some of the others, that
the words in the exercise were, in many cases, the
same ones used in the letter. The professor had
been enough of a detective to think of this, and
he chuckled to himself many times as he
thought of his cuteness. But it was not to avail
him.</p>

<p>“You may hand in your papers as you finish,”
he said, “and leave the room. Don’t forget&mdash;to-day’s
lessons, and two additional ones for to-morrow.”</p>

<p>One by one boys filed up to his desk, laid
their papers down, and passed out.</p>

<p>“Humph!” exclaimed Professor Skeel, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>
Tom passed over his exercise. “Is this your
usual style of printing, Fairfield?”</p>

<p>“I am not used to such work, and I have no
decided style. I vary it, I suppose, not having
had much practice at it.”</p>

<p>“So I see,” remarked Professor Skeel, with a
sharp glance at our hero&mdash;a glance that Tom returned
unabashed.</p>

<p>“Say, what do you think of it?” asked Jack of
his chum a little later, when both were in their
room.</p>

<p>“Think of it? That it’s getting worse and
worse,” remarked Tom bitterly. “I’ve had
about all I can stand. Elmwood would be a perfect
school, and a most jolly one, if it wasn’t for
Skeel.”</p>

<p>“That’s what we all think, I guess. But what’s
to be done?”</p>

<p>“Something, and that pretty soon,” declared
Tom with energy. “I’m not going to stand it
much longer.”</p>

<p>“Neither am I. Say, he wanted us to print
that lesson so he could compare the letter with it.”</p>

<p>“Of course. But I fooled him,” and Tom
told of his scheme.</p>

<p>“Good! I was afraid you’d be caught. We
all ought to have printed part of that ultimatum,
and then the responsibility would have been divided.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p>

<p>“Oh, I don’t mind that. But if things don’t
turn for the better soon we’ll either burn Skeel in
effigy, or&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

<p>“What?” asked Jack, as Tom paused.</p>

<p>“I’m not quite ready to tell yet, but it will be
something rather new, I think. Now let’s get at
this Latin. We don’t want to give him an excuse
to bullyrag us any more.”</p>

<p>“No, that’s right.”</p>

<p>While his students were working hard, and
denying themselves well-earned recreation, in order
to complete the unjustly imposed tasks, Professor
Skeel was in his study, poring over the
printed exercises turned in.</p>

<p>“I can’t seem to identify any of the hands with
the one that made up the insulting and threatening
letter,” he murmured, as he stared at the papers.
“I thought surely Fairfield was the guilty one,
and yet his printing is totally different from that
in the note.”</p>

<p>He compared the two papers&mdash;Tom’s and the
letter&mdash;and shook his head.</p>

<p>“Unless Fairfield purposely disguised his print
this time!” the professor exclaimed. “I wonder
if that could be it? I must get another sample
from him&mdash;a natural sample. Let me see; how
can I do it?” and he fell to scheming.</p>

<p>“There’s that Bennington, too,” continued the
professor. “I must put the screws on him more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
strongly before he begins to suspect. And if I
should be found out&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

<p>The professor looked guiltily at the windows as
if to make sure the shades were drawn, and, finding
that they were, he listened as if fearful of
hearing approaching footsteps.</p>

<p>He rather hoped his class would not be prepared
in the unusual task he had set for them, and
he was not disappointed. Few students could
have prepared so much Latin in one day, with
their other tasks, and many failed.</p>

<p>“Just as I expected!” sneered the professor.
“Well, you may all remain in one hour and a
half after the last lecture today, and study. Remember,
the entire class remains ninety minutes
after the last lecture, no matter by whom. You
may go now, but return here to remain after
hours.”</p>

<p>There were gasps of dismay, for many lads had
formed pleasure-plans for the afternoon. Now
they could not be carried out. More than this,
there were one or two students, Tom among them,
who, by remaining up late the night before, and
studying unusually hard, and by cutting a safe lecture,
had recited perfectly. Yet they were punished
with the others.</p>

<p>“Fellows, we’ve reached the limit of endurance!”
exclaimed Tom to his classmates, as they
filed out on the campus, and got a safe distance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
away from the listening ears of Professor
Skeel.</p>

<p>“That’s right!” came in a chorus.</p>

<p>“But what’s to be done?” asked Jack.</p>

<p>“Hang him in effigy, and burn the scarecrow
afterward!” suggested Bert Wilson.</p>

<p>“Can you do both?” asked George Abbot.</p>

<p>“Dry up, Why!” came from several.</p>

<p>“Let’s hear from Tom,” suggested Jack.</p>

<p>“Hear! Hear!” came the shout.</p>

<p>“Fellows, we’ve stood all we’re called on to
stand from Skeel,” went on Tom. “I’m sick
and tired of being bullyragged.”</p>

<p>“What are we going to do?”</p>

<p>“Strike! Rebel!” declared Tom daringly.
“I suggest that we demand better treatment from
him, or we’ll all go on a strike, and refuse to recite
to him any more, or enter his classroom!”</p>

<p>“Good!”</p>

<p>“Great!”</p>

<p>“That’s the stuff!”</p>

<p>“Hurray for Fairfield!”</p>

<p>“Are you in earnest, Tom?” asked Jack, who
stood near his chum.</p>

<p>“I surely am. I’ve stood more from him&mdash;and
so have all of us&mdash;than I would from anyone
else. I say let’s strike!”</p>

<p>“And we’re with you!” came in a chorus.</p>

<p>“All of you?” asked Tom, looking around on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>
the Freshman Latin class. “Remember a strike
is no good unless we’re all in it.”</p>

<p>“We’re all with you!” came the cry.</p>

<p>Tom looked around, and saw Sam Heller sneaking
off.</p>

<p>“Here, come back, Heller!” he cried, and
Sam turned, facing Tom with a sneer on his face.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a><br />
<small>DEFIANCE</small></h2>


<p>“Well, what do you want?” demanded the
bully, halting.</p>

<p>“I want to know where you’re going,” replied
Tom.</p>

<p>“I don’t know that it’s any of your affair.”</p>

<p>“Well, it is, and the affair of every member
of this class. We want to know who is with us,
and who against us. And it looks, the way you
were sneaking off just now, as though you weren’t
going to be with us.”</p>

<p>“I don’t care how it looks,” retorted Sam, and
his tone was not as defiant as it had been, “I’ve
got some studying to do, and I want to get at it.”</p>

<p>“Well, we’ve no objection to you doing all the
studying you want to,” went on our hero, “but if
things turn out the way I expect we won’t do much
more Latin boning&mdash;until things are different.”</p>

<p>“That’s what!” came in a chorus from the
others.</p>

<p>Sam Heller started to walk away, but Tom was
not done with him yet.</p>

<p>“Look here. Heller,” went on his questioner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
“What we want to know is, whether you’re with
us or against us?”</p>

<p>“Why shouldn’t I be with you?”</p>

<p>“That’s not answering the question. We
know how you trained in with the Sophomores at
the hazing, and that doesn’t look as though you
considered yourself a Freshman, though I know
why you did it, all right,” and Tom looked at his
enemy significantly.</p>

<p>“That’s what!” shouted Jack Fitch.</p>

<p>“Now, as I said,” went on Tom, “if we do
strike, and refuse to recite to Skeel, it won’t
amount to anything unless the class stands together.
If even one member backs down it will
look as though he didn’t believe our cause right
and just, and we can’t afford to have that. Now,
are you with us or against us? We want to know
before we go any further.”</p>

<p>“And if you’re not with us, it won’t be healthy
for you, Heller!” exclaimed Frank Ralston.</p>

<p>“Hold on!” cried Tom. “We mustn’t have
any threats. If he doesn’t want to join he
doesn’t have to, in which case, of course, he can
no longer consider himself a Freshman in the real
sense of the word.”</p>

<p>“Coventry for his, if he doesn’t join!” cried
Jack.</p>

<p>Sam started. He knew what it would mean
to be given the “silence” by every member of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
class. He would be practically ignored. For, in
spite of his mean traits, he had a few friends beside
Nick.</p>

<p>“Well?” asked Tom. “What about it?”</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I’m with you&mdash;of course.”</p>

<p>“To the end?”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“No matter what happens?”</p>

<p>“What do you mean?”</p>

<p>“I mean will you chance expulsion if it comes
to that in case we strike?”</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I suppose so.”</p>

<p>“That’s all I want to know,” went on Tom.
“We will have a meeting to-night, and decide on
a plan. Then we’ll make a mutual promise to
stick together, and we’ll wait our chance. Meeting’s
adjourned.”</p>

<p>“Say, Tom Fairfield is all right!” exclaimed
Bert Wilson to Jack, as the two walked on together.</p>

<p>“That’s true,” agreed Tom’s special chum.
“I’m glad we’ve got him to run things.”</p>

<p>“What makes him that way&mdash;always doing
things?” George Abbot wanted to know.</p>

<p>“Because, Why,” spoke Jack, “Tom eats rusty
nails for breakfast. They give him an iron constitution.”</p>

<p>“Really. Are you joking?”</p>

<p>“Of course not,” replied Jack with a sober<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
face. “Run along now, and ask Demy Miller
if he knows his ancient history.”</p>

<p>The studious janitor was observed coming over
the campus, a book, as usual, under his arm. He
saw the students and turned to meet them.</p>

<p>“What is it now, Demy?” asked Jack, as he
saw an anxious look on the man’s face.</p>

<p>“Oh, it’s this proposition about constructing
squares on the sides of a right-angle triangle and
making the sum of them equal the one constructed
on the&mdash;er&mdash;hippenuse, I think it’s called.”</p>

<p>“Hypothenuse&mdash;the hypothenuse!” laughed
Jack, as he heard the odd pronunciation. “Why,
that’s an easy problem, Demy. George Abbot
here will show you how. We’re going for a
skate.”</p>

<p>“Oh, I&mdash;&mdash;!” began the human question box.
He was going skating also, but now he had to stop
and explain to the janitor. And it was well to
keep in with the latter, for he often did the boys
favors, and many a night he let them in before
some prowling monitor could spy them. “Well,
come over here, and I’ll do it for you,” ended
George, as he saw his chums making appealing
signals to him.</p>

<p>Soon he was explaining that comparatively simple
geometrical problem while the others, including
Tom, went down to the frozen river.</p>

<p>Early that evening there was secret meeting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>
of the Freshman Latin class, and a solemn agreement
was entered into that, if they had to strike,
they would all stick together. Even Sam Heller
was present, though with no very good grace, and
he made the promise with the others.</p>

<p>“Now to await developments,” suggested Tom.
“We’ll give that old taskmaster one more chance,
and if he takes it, and bullyrags us any more,
we’ll defy him, and go on strike.”</p>

<p>“Hurray!” yelled Jack Fitch.</p>

<p>“That’s the talk!” came from several.</p>

<p>“Meeting’s adjourned,” said Tom with a smile.
“Come on, Jack, I feel just like running the
guard.”</p>

<p>“Oh, I don’t know. Where you going?”</p>

<p>“What’s the matter with going into town, and
seeing a moving picture show.”</p>

<p>“We may be nabbed.”</p>

<p>“What of it? Might as well be killed for a
sheep as a lamb. If we go into this strike business
we’ll get in bad with the powers that be, anyhow.
And if we don’t, why I’ll feel so good at
the change in Skeel, that I won’t mind a little rigging
for being out after hours.”</p>

<p>“All right. I’m with you.”</p>

<p>The two chums went, with some other of their
friends, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves at the
show, for the pictures were of a high class. Coming
back the boys were almost at their dormitory,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
when a friendly Senior warned them that some of
the proctor’s scouts were on the watch.</p>

<p>“Go around by Skeel’s house, cut through his
garden, and you can get in through the cellar,
I think,” the Senior advised them.</p>

<p>“Thanks,” called Tom, as he and his chums
moved off in the darkness. As they passed the
residence of the disliked instructor, they saw a
light in his study. The shade was drawn, but
the shadow of two figures could be seen on the
shade. And, as the lads came opposite it they
made out one figure, which plainly was that of the
professor, shaking his fist at the other.</p>

<p>“He’s laying down the law to some one,” murmured
Jack. “Looks like he’d be in a sweet temper
to-morrow.”</p>

<p>“I’m going to see who it is,” whispered Tom.
“The shade is up a crack.”</p>

<p>“Better not,” advised Bert Wilson, but Tom
was daring. He crept up to the window, and saw
that it was Bruce Bennington who was with the
professor.</p>

<p>“And it was him whom the professor was shaking
his fist at,” thought Tom, as he stole back to
his comrades with the information. “I wish I
could find out what is up between those two, and
what is troubling Bruce.”</p>

<p>Our friends managed to get to their rooms
without being caught, though one or two of them
had narrow escapes.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>

<p>Tom’s thoughts, as he dropped off to sleep,
were on what might happen the next day. Would
it be necessary to strike? He imagined that it
would, for it could hardly be expected that Professor
Skeel would change his nature in a day.</p>

<p>It was not without a little feeling of nervousness
that Tom and his associates filed into their
Latin recitation the next morning. There was a
grim smile on the face of Professor Skeel as he
looked over the lads in their seats, and there was
grim menace in the manner in which he opened
his book, prepared to go on with the doubly-imposed
task.</p>

<p>“Well,” he began, omitting the usual “young
gentlemen,” with which jolly Professor Hammond,
and the others of the faculty, used to greet
their students. “Well, I trust you are all prepared;
for if you are not, I warn you all that it
will go hard with you.”</p>

<p>There was a subdued murmur. Clearly there
was to be no let-up in the manner of conducting
the Latin class.</p>

<p>“Silence!” snapped Mr. Skeel. “I have had
enough of this insubordination.”</p>

<p>“You’ll have more before we’re through with
you,” thought Tom.</p>

<p>“You may recite, Fitch,” spoke Professor
Skeel. “And I want a perfect recitation from
you to-day.”</p>

<p>Jack began. He did well enough for the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
few lines and then began to stumble and hesitate.</p>

<p>“That will do!” snapped the professor.
“You try, Fairfield.”</p>

<p>There was an indrawing of breaths. If the
clash was to come, it would be with Tom, all
thought.</p>

<p>Tom had the one day’s lesson perfectly. He
rapidly translated that and stopped.</p>

<p>“Well, go on,” ordered Mr. Skeel, obviously
ill-pleased that the student he suspected had done
so well.</p>

<p>“That’s as far as I’m going,” said Tom quietly.</p>

<p>“What?”</p>

<p>“That’s as far as I’m going. That is all that
is ever assigned to us for one day.”</p>

<p>“But I told you all to learn a double lesson.”</p>

<p>“And I refuse to do it. We all refuse to do
it!”</p>

<p>This was the signal Tom had agreed upon as
marking the defiance and revolt, in case there was
no change in the professor’s manner.</p>

<p>For a moment Professor Skeel was dumb&mdash;as
if he could not believe what he had heard.</p>

<p>“Will you kindly repeat that?” he asked Tom,
in a quiet, menacing voice.</p>

<p>“I said,” began our hero, “that we have
agreed that the double lesson was unfair. We
have agreed that if you insisted on it that we
would not recite. We will go no farther. Either<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
we get better treatment, or we will not come to
your class any more.”</p>

<p>“Wha&mdash;what?” gasped Professor Skeel, turning
pale.</p>

<p>Tom repeated what he had said.</p>

<p>“What does this mean? Have done with this
nonsense!”</p>

<p>“It means a strike!” cried Tom, turning to his
classmates. “Boys, are you with me? A strike
for better treatment in the Latin class! Are you
with me?”</p>

<p>“Yes! Yes! Yes!” came the cries from all
parts of the room.</p>

<p>“Silence! Sit down!” shouted Professor
Skeel, as he saw the students rise in a body.
“Sit down!” He banged his rule on the desk.</p>

<p>“Come on!” ordered Tom, and the boys&mdash;every
one&mdash;followed his lead.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a><br />
<small>THE STRIKE</small></h2>


<p>For a moment amazement held Professor Skeel
motionless. Several boys were filing through the
door before he could manage to make a move.
Then he sprang to the portal.</p>

<p>“Stop!” he commanded. “I demand that
this nonsense cease. Return to your seats, and
continue the recitation!”</p>

<p>“Will you hear us on just one day’s lesson&mdash;the
usual length?” asked Tom, turning back.</p>

<p>“No! Certainly not! You will do exactly as
I say, and recite the double lesson. I will make
no compromise.”</p>

<p>“Then it’s a strike,” replied Tom. “Come
on.”</p>

<p>The boys continued to follow him. For a moment
it looked as if Professor Skeel would resort
to physical measures and hold the boys in his
room, but he did not.</p>

<p>He scowled at them, but the fact that there
were several large lads in the class, lads who had
a reputation as boxers, probably deterred him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
The last student filed out, and under the leadership
of Tom they all stood in the corridor.</p>

<p>“Well, we did it,” remarked Jack, and there
was a trace of awe in his voice. It was the first
time, in his experience that a class had “struck,”
against a disliked teacher. He was a little doubtful
of the outcome.</p>

<p>“Of course we did it,” replied Tom. “It was
the only thing to do.”</p>

<p>“And what’s the next thing?” asked Bert Wilson.</p>

<p>“Go to history lecture, as soon as it’s time,”
declared Tom. “We’ve half an hour yet. I suggest
that we act quietly and as if nothing had
happened. Report as usual in history class.”</p>

<p>“But what will Skeel be doing?” inquired
Jack.</p>

<p>“We’ll have to wait and see. It’s up to him
now. I know one thing, though, I’ll never go
back to his class until he admits that he was in the
wrong, and releases us from double lessons.
That’s what I’m going to do, and I don’t care if
they suspend me!”</p>

<p>“The same here!” came from several, and
then the lads dispersed to their rooms, to do a little
studying on history, or to various parts of the
campus.</p>

<p>As for Professor Skeel, that worthy did not
know what to do at first. Clearly he had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
outwitted, and by Freshmen! He must recover
and maintain his reputation as a disciplinarian,
somehow, but how?</p>

<p>“I’ll&mdash;I’ll suspend every one of them until they
beg my pardon!” he exclaimed. “As for that
Fairfield, I’ll see that he is expelled! The insolent
puppy!”</p>

<p>But mere words never did any good yet, and
Professor Skeel knew this. He must act, and he
resolved to hit on some plan that would give him
the victory. But first blood had been drawn by
the students, and he realized that.</p>

<p>He decided to remain in his lecture room until
the period was up, in order that he might think,
and so that none of his fellow members on the
faculty would not ask embarrassing questions as to
how his class had disappeared.</p>

<p>“I’ll get even with them,” he declared. “They
shall beg my pardon, and do more work than ever
before.”</p>

<p>He decided that he must first lay the matter
before Doctor Meredith, for he could not act on
his own initiative. He would ask that stringent
measures be taken. With this in view, at the
time when Tom and his chums were filing into history
class, as if nothing had happened, Professor
Skeel sought the head master.</p>

<p>There was a little feeling of nervousness on the
part of our hero and his associates as they faced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
Professor Whitely, who had ancient history at his
finger tips, but, though he had heard some rumors
of trouble in the Freshman Latin class, he did not
refer to it, but plunged at once into the work of
the day.</p>

<p>Nor did anything take place during the remainder
of the lectures which filled up time until
about two o’clock. In the meantime, however,
Professor Skeel had placed the matter before
Doctor Meredith.</p>

<p>“They went on strike, you say?” asked the
head master. “Bless my soul! I never heard
of such a thing! I have known laboring bodies
to refuse to work, but how can students strike?”</p>

<p>“By refusing to recite, or to remain in class,”
answered the Professor.</p>

<p>“And did the Freshmen do that?”</p>

<p>“They certainly did.”</p>

<p>“Dear, dear! What a situation!” exclaimed
Doctor Meredith. “What a peculiar position!
I really never heard of one like it.”</p>

<p>“Nor I,” admitted Professor Skeel dryly.
“But something must be done.”</p>

<p>“Oh, assuredly; most assuredly,” Doctor
Meredith answered his colleague.</p>

<p>“And something drastic!” went on the Latin
instructor.</p>

<p>“Oh, yes,&mdash;er&mdash;I suppose so. Really it is
rather a novelty&mdash;a strike of students.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p>

<p>“Novelty!” puffed Professor Skeel.</p>

<p>“Yes. I never heard of such a thing. Really
I think some sort of psychological study might
be made of it&mdash;the causes and effects you know.
What peculiar action of the brain cells brought
it about. The reason for it. I think I shall write
a paper on it for the International society. It
will create a sensation, I think.”</p>

<p>“I think so myself. But, in the meanwhile,
something must be done&mdash;something drastic.
The strike must be broken.”</p>

<p>“Oh, of course. I&mdash;er&mdash;I perfectly agree
with you,” and Doctor Meredith spoke dreamily.
He was already forming in his mind the chief
points for a paper he determined to write on students
striking. “We should have to begin with
the cause,” he murmured. “Ah, by the way,
Professor Skeel, what was the reason the Freshmen
walked out, and refused to recite?”</p>

<p>“They declared they would not do the lessons
I had set for them.”</p>

<p>“Why not?”</p>

<p>“They said they were too long&mdash;or rather,
their leader, Tom Fairfield, did.”</p>

<p>“Ah, and so they have a leader, just as in an
industrial strike. Very interesting, very.”</p>

<p>“Interesting!”</p>

<p>“Yes&mdash;er&mdash;that is from a psychological standpoint,
of course.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p>

<p>“Oh, I see. But something must be done.
Even though, as a punishment for careless work,
I doubled the usual lesson, that is no excuse for
striking.”</p>

<p>“Oh, and so you doubled their lessons? Well,
I suppose they naturally resented that. But, of
course, as you say, I presume that was no excuse.
But I will do something. I will act at once. I
have thought of the best plan.”</p>

<p>“What is it?” asked Professor Skeel, hoping
it was the suspension of the entire class, and the
expulsion of Tom.</p>

<p>“We will treat with the strikers, just as is done
in industrial strikes,” said Doctor Meredith with
an air of triumph, as if he had discovered a most
unusual way of settling the trouble. “We will
arbitrate. That is the best way. I will send
them a personal communication, when they have
assembled. I must make some notes. If you
will kindly post a bulletin, requesting the class
to assemble in, say, the gymnasium, I will send a
communication to them. That, I believe is the
usual way the authorities treat with strikers. I
will personally communicate with them,” and with
a delighted air, and a childish eagerness, Doctor
Meredith took out pen and paper.</p>

<p>“I am to post a bulletin, calling the students
together, am I?” asked Professor Skeel, not altogether
relishing his work.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p>

<p>“Yes, and I will communicate with them.
Wait, better still, I will speak to them in person.”</p>

<p>“And what will you say?”</p>

<p>“I will ask them to return to your class room,
and resume the interrupted session and lecture,”
spoke the head master with an air of triumph, as
though he had made a most astounding discovery.
“I will point out to them how foolish it was to
strike, I will assure them that there will be no
more double lessons in the future, and I will talk
with them, and get at the reasons that impelled
them to strike. I can use their answers in the
paper I propose to write.”</p>

<p>“Is&mdash;is that all you will do?” asked Professor
Skeel, much disappointed.</p>

<p>“That is all that will be necessary,” replied
Doctor Meredith mildly. “You will see, Professor
Skeel, I will soon break the strike. I think
that ‘break’ is the proper word; is it not?”</p>

<p>“Yes, but it will not be broken that way, Doctor
Meredith. Drastic measures are needed.
Very drastic!”</p>

<p>“We will try my way first,” decided the head
master quietly. “Write out the bulletin, Professor.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a><br />
<small>NEGOTIATIONS END</small></h2>


<p>Much against his will, and very much opposed
to the mild method proposed by Doctor Meredith,
Professor Skeel wrote and posted the following
bulletin:</p>

<div class="blockquot">

<p class="noi">“Members of the Freshman Latin
Class will assemble in the gymnasium at
once, at the request of Doctor Meredith,
to receive a personal communication
from him.</p>

<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Burton Skeel.</span>”</p>
</div>

<p>It did not take long for it to be discovered, for
some student or other was always on the alert for
notices, athletic or otherwise, posted on the common
bulletin board.</p>

<p>Bert Wilson was the first Freshman to know
of it, and he darted off, post-haste, to tell Tom,
who was in his room with Jack.</p>

<p>“I say, Tom!” exclaimed Bert. “Come on!
Something doing in the strike!”</p>

<p>“How?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>

<p>Bert told of the notice, and soon the board was
surrounded by a curious throng of students.
From his window, where he was still in communication
with Professor Skeel, Doctor Meredith
saw the throng.</p>

<p>“There, you see!” he exclaimed triumphantly.
“They are interested at once. They will listen
to reason, surely. I wish you would come in person,
and tell them that if they will recite to you
the double lesson, you will impose no more.”</p>

<p>“But I refuse to make any such agreement as
that. And I don’t believe they will listen to reason.
Moreover, I shall have something to say to
you after the meeting,” snapped Professor Skeel.</p>

<p>“Very well. See, they are filing off to the gymnasium
now. I will soon go there to speak to
them.”</p>

<p>Tom and his chums were indeed hurrying to
the athletic building, and tongues were freely wagging
on the way.</p>

<p>“What do you suppose is up?” asked George
Abbot.</p>

<p>“Don’t know,” replied Jack shortly.</p>

<p>“Doctor Meredith is going to take a hand,”
commented Luke Fosdick.</p>

<p>“And he’ll listen to reason,” spoke Tom.
“But, even if he requests it we’re not going to
knuckle down to Skeel; are we?”</p>

<p>“Surely not,” came in a chorus.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>

<p>“The strike ends when he stops imposing
double lessons on us for no reason at all, but because
he is ugly,” went on Tom. “How about
that?”</p>

<p>“We’re with you!”</p>

<p>“And if he doesn’t give in,” proceeded our
hero, “we’ll&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

<p>“Burn Skeel in effigy, after we hang him!”
came the cry from some one.</p>

<p>“That’s it,” assented Tom, glad to see that his
chums were with him.</p>

<p>They filed into the gymnasium, and the buzz of
talk continued until some one announced that
Doctor Meredith and Professor Skeel were approaching.</p>

<p>“Ah, young gentlemen, good afternoon!”
greeted the head master, as he walked in and took
his stand on the platform, where the secretaries
and officers of the various athletic committees
presided, when there was a class or school session.
Professor Skeel, with a grim look in his
face, followed, and sat down.</p>

<p>“I am informed that you are on a strike,” began
Doctor Meredith. “Very interesting, I’m
sure&mdash;I mean of course it is altogether wrong,”
he added hastily. “You should have tried arbitration
first. However, since you have decided
to strike, I am glad to be able to speak to you&mdash;to
reason with you.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p>

<p>“I understand that you object to having to do
a double lesson as a punishment. Now I dislike
to have a strike in the school, and, though I do
not, for one minute, admit that you are in the
right, I wish to know, if Professor Skeel agrees to
give out no more double lessons, will you return
to your class?”</p>

<p>“I will make no such agreement!” shouted the
irate instructor.</p>

<p>“Then the strike is still on!” exclaimed Tom,
springing to his feet.</p>

<p>“Silence!” stormed Professor Skeel.</p>

<p>Doctor Meredith held up his hand. The commotion
that had started, at once ceased.</p>

<p>“I will hear what Fairfield has to say,” spoke
the head master, quietly.</p>

<p>“We have stood all we can,” went on Tom.
“We do not think Professor Skeel treats us fairly.
We protested once, and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

<p>“By an anonymous letter!” broke in the Latin
teacher.</p>

<p>“Yes, that was hardly right,” commented the
doctor, gently.</p>

<p>“It was the best way we could think of,” spoke
Tom. “We wanted better treatment. We want
it yet, and we are going to get it, or we will continue
to refuse to recite to Professor Skeel. We
will continue to strike.”</p>

<p>“Strong words,” said the head master. “But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
may I ask how you came to hit on&mdash;er this&mdash;er&mdash;rather
novel form of rebellion? I am anxious
to know,” and he prepared to make some notes
in a book. Professor Skeel fairly snorted with
rage.</p>

<p>“It began from the very first,” explained Tom,
and he went over the different steps in their
trouble with the unpopular professor. “Now we
can stand it no longer. We will leave school, if
necessary, to gain our rights.”</p>

<p>Doctor Meredith looked surprised at this.
The loss of the Freshman Latin class would mean
a serious blow to the finances of the institution of
learning. Still he would have done his duty in the
face of this if he saw it clearly. But he was not
at all in sympathy with the methods of Professor
Skeel, and the boys probably realized this.</p>

<p>“And so we struck,” ended Tom, concluding
the history of the rebellion.</p>

<p>“And it is my duty to end this strike,” declared
the head master. “I ask you to return to your
recitation in Professor Skeel’s room, and I&mdash;er&mdash;I
have no doubt but what matters will adjust themselves.”</p>

<p>“We will not&mdash;we feel that we cannot&mdash;return
and end the strike, unless we receive some
assurance that we will be treated like gentlemen,
and not imposed upon in the matter of lessons,”
declared Tom.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p>

<p>“That’s right!” chorused the others.</p>

<p>“Silence!” commanded the professor, but he
was not in command now, and the lads realized it.
“Then you will remain on strike?” asked Doctor
Meredith, as if surprised that his request had not
been complied with.</p>

<p>“We must, sir,” replied Tom respectfully.</p>

<p>“Then&mdash;er&mdash;then this ends the negotiations,
I presume, young gentlemen,” spoke the doctor,
rather sorrowfully. “I shall have to consider
what further will be done.”</p>

<p>“We’re ahead&mdash;so far,” commented Tom to
his chums as they filed out.</p>

<p>“I knew it would end this way,” spoke Professor
Skeel to Doctor Meredith. “You will have
to be firmer. You must take the most stringent
measures possible.”</p>

<p>“What would you suggest?” asked the head
master, evidently at a loss. In fact he was thinking
more of writing the paper on the strike than
he was of ending it.</p>

<p>“I will tell you my plan,” spoke Professor
Skeel, as he followed the doctor into his study.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a><br />
<small>PRISONERS</small></h2>


<p>“Well, what do you think will be the next
move?” asked Jack, as he trudged along beside
his chum as they came from the gymnasium.</p>

<p>“I don’t know, I’m sure. It’s up to them now,
and we can only saw wood, and see what happens.”</p>

<p>“Do you think they’ll punish us?” asked
George Abbot.</p>

<p>“Oh, there you go again!” cried Bert Wilson.
“Can’t you do anything but ask questions, Why?”</p>

<p>“Of course I can, but I want to know what’s
going to happen to us.”</p>

<p>“There can’t much more happen than has happened
already,” said Lew Bentfield, grimly.</p>

<p>“That’s right,” agreed Tom.</p>

<p>“They will probably suspend us until we give
in,” come from Jack.</p>

<p>“What of it?” asked Tom.</p>

<p>“Nothing, only if we’re suspended we can’t
go to any lectures or recitations, and we’ll fall
behind in our work, and be conditioned when this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
thing is over. That means we may lose a year.”</p>

<p>“Nonsense!” exclaimed Tom. “Besides, we
agreed to stick this thing out.”</p>

<p>“Oh, I’m not going to back out!” cried Jack
quickly. “Don’t imagine that for a second.
Only this is a serious matter.”</p>

<p>“I know it,” admitted Tom, quietly. “And
it’s a serious matter to be treated as we have been
treated in class nearly every day by Professor
Skeel. I’m tired of being bullyragged. This
strike is for principle, not for any material advantage.</p>

<p>“But, anyhow, if they do suspend us it can’t
last for long. Why, nearly every Freshman is in
with us. That is, all but those who don’t like
Latin, and they’re mighty scarce.</p>

<p>“Now practically the whole Freshman class of
a college can’t be suspended for any great length
of time, and the ban will soon be raised.”</p>

<p>“You mean we’ll win?” asked Bert Wilson.</p>

<p>“Of course we will!” declared Tom stoutly,
“and the lessons we miss, if we are suspended,
we can easily make up. But I don’t believe Merry
will suspend us.”</p>

<p>There were various opinions about this, and the
talk became general as the boys separated, going
their different ways. Tom and a group of his
particular chums went to his room.</p>

<p>“We ought to do something to celebrate this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>
strike,” declared Jack, when there was a lull in
the talk.</p>

<p>“That’s right!” cried Tom. “I’m for
something to eat. I’m going to give a little dinner
here to as many as we can crowd in. Let’s
get busy, Jack.”</p>

<p>“A spread!” cried Tom’s chum. “Where
are the eats to come from?”</p>

<p>“Oh, I’ll sneak out and get ’em as soon as it’s
dark enough. You can work it so as to get
some stuff from our worthy matron; can’t you?”</p>

<p>“I guess so.”</p>

<p>“Then leave the rest to me, and ask as many
fellows of our particular crowd as you can squeeze
into the room. Pack ’em in like sardines. The
more the merrier. We’ll make this a record
spread.”</p>

<p>“Jove, a spread just after you’ve organized a
strike!” exclaimed Bert Wilson, admiringly.
“Say, you do do things, Tom Fairfield.”</p>

<p>“Oh, what’s the use sitting around like a bump
on a log?” asked our hero. “Now we’ll go to
supper, and mind, every fellow is to stow away
in his pockets anything not in a liquid form that
he can. Bring it to the feast, for I can’t lug in
any too much all by my lonesome.”</p>

<p>“I’ll go with you,” volunteered several eagerly.</p>

<p>“No, if two of us go out together it will create
suspicions, and all eyes are on us now, as Napoleon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
said to his soldiers in Egypt, or was it in South
Africa? Anyhow, I’ll sneak out as soon as it’s
dark enough, and get what I can.”</p>

<p>There was a subdued air of expectancy at the
Freshman supper that night, and many whispers
ran around. It was noticed, too, that many of the
lads had unusually large appetites, but they did
not seem to be eating as much as they asked for.
There were sly motions which some of the waiters
could not understand, for they were caused when
the diners slipped food into their pockets.</p>

<p>“Assemble in my room one at a time, as soon
after the signal ‘lights out’ as possible,” explained
Tom, when the meal was over. It was a
rule that the boys must have their rooms in darkness
after 9:30 o’clock, unless special permission
for studying was obtained. “Don’t go in
bunches,” advised our hero, “but a few at a time.
I’m off to town.”</p>

<p>Watching his chance, Tom managed to elude
a monitor, though, truth to tell, so amazing had
the strike seemed to all the college authorities,
that they were dazed, and really did not keep as
close a watch over the Freshmen as usual.</p>

<p>Tom was in town, buying a lot of indigestible,
but toothsome, dainties, dear to the palates of himself
and his chums, when most unexpectedly, he
met Bruce Bennington coming out of a pawnshop.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>

<p>“Why, Bennington!” exclaimed Tom. “Oh,
how are you?” and he quickly tried to change his
first astonished tone, which had said, as plainly
as anything: “What are you doing in such a
place?”</p>

<p>“Oh, hello, Fairfield,” greeted the Senior, after
a first start of surprise. Then, in a cool voice,
he added: “I suppose it looks rather odd, to see
me coming out of this place, but the truth of the
matter is&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

<p>“Not at all!” interrupted Tom, determined to
make amends for his seeming surprise. “I’ve
done the same thing when I’m temporarily embarrassed.
Besides, for all I know you may have
been making a psychological study of the pawnbroker,
eh?”</p>

<p>“Oh, of course,” laughed Bruce uneasily.
“But say, youngster, you fellows are making
names for yourselves. Jove! We Freshmen
never went on a strike. You’ve got us beaten a
mile, even if we did drive a cow up on Merry’s
doorstep. But a strike! Never!”</p>

<p>“Maybe you hadn’t any need,” spoke Tom.
“Was Skeel as bad in your time as he is now?”</p>

<p>“Worse, if anything. And he’s a&mdash;&mdash;” Bruce
hesitated. “Well, I’ll not say it,” he concluded.
“What’s up, anyhow?”</p>

<p>“Oh, I’m going to give a little spread.”</p>

<p>“Oh, I say now! That’s adding insult to injury,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>
as the Irishman said when the parrot called
him names after biting him. You Freshies are
laying it on rather thick.”</p>

<p>“Might as well get all we can while it’s coming
our way,” explained Tom. “No telling what
may happen to-morrow.”</p>

<p>“No, that’s so. Well, I wish I was a Freshman
again,” and, with something like a sigh of
regret, the Senior passed on.</p>

<p>“There’s something wrong with him,” mused
Tom, as he caught a car that would take him near
the school. “And I wonder why, with all the
money he is supposed to have, that he had to go
to a pawn shop? Why didn’t he come to me, or
some of the college boys? Too proud, I guess.”</p>

<p>There was snow on the ground and the weather,
though cold, bore a promise of more as Tom cautiously
made his way by a roundabout course over
the campus and to a side door.</p>

<p>“Well, you’re all here, I see,” he remarked as
he entered his room, and saw a crowd of congenial
lads assembled there. The door communicating
with the apartment of Bert Wilson, which
portal was seldom unlocked, had been opened,
making a fairly large apartment in which to have
a forbidden spread.</p>

<p>“Make out all right?” asked Jack.</p>

<p>“Sure, I’ve got a choice assortment of grub.
Let’s set the beds,” for they were to serve as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
tables, covered with large squares of newspapers
for table cloths.</p>

<p>“I’ve got the windows and keyholes covered,”
explained Jack, pointing to blankets tacked over
the glass.</p>

<p>“Good! Now let the merry feast go on,
and joy be loosed. For we’ll eat to-day and
starve to-morrow.”</p>

<p>“Starve to-morrow?” gasped George Abbot.
“What do you mean, Tom?”</p>

<p>“Nothing. I was just getting poetical, that’s
all. You needn’t stare at the sandwiches and
olives, George, my boy; they are substantial, if my
poetry isn’t, and they won’t disappear. Come on,
fellows, get busy.”</p>

<p>The feast was soon under way, and though the
boys could have had nearly everything displayed
on the “bed” at their regular meal, they all
agreed that the viands tasted ever so much better
served in the forbidden manner that they were.</p>

<p>“Pass those pickles, Jed, my boy!” commanded
Tom to a lanky Freshman.</p>

<p>“And keep that mustard moving,” ordered
Jack. “Those frankfurters are prime, Tom.”</p>

<p>“I thought you’d like ’em,” remarked our hero.</p>

<p>“Put some more on to cook,” pleaded Jack.</p>

<p>“Sure,” assented Bert Wilson, who presided
at the “stove.”</p>

<p>This was an arrangement of wires, ingeniously<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>
made by Tom, so that it fitted over the gas, and
on which a saucepan could be set over the flame.
In this pan the sausages were simmering.</p>

<p>Bert put in some more, and stood anxiously
watching them, fork in hand, while George buttered
rolls, and passed them around.</p>

<p>“I propose a toast!” exclaimed Frank Carter,
rising, a bottle of ginger ale in one hand, and a
big piece of chocolate cake in the other.</p>

<p>“Hush! Not so loud!” cautioned Jack.</p>

<p>“Well, then, a silent toast to our host, Tom
Fairfield!” went on Frank.</p>

<p>“Tiger!” whispered Jack, waving his Frankfurter
fork in the air.</p>

<p>“Thanks, one and all,” replied Tom, bowing.
“I will&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

<p>“Hark!” suddenly cautioned Jack.</p>

<p>The boys were silent on the instant.</p>

<p>“I hear footsteps,” whispered Bert.</p>

<p>There was no doubt but that some one was out
in the corridor, but as silence replaced the rather
noiseless celebration of the feast, the footsteps
could be heard retreating.</p>

<p>“A spy sent to make a report,” was Tom’s
opinion. “Well, we can’t be any worse off than
we are. Keep things going, fellows,” and the
spread proceeded.</p>

<p>Meanwhile a curious scene was being enacted
in the study of Doctor Meredith. All the members<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
of the faculty were present, and were being
addressed by Professor Skeel.</p>

<p>“I think it is due <em>me</em>, as an instructor in this
school, that this class be punished,” he said.</p>

<p>“According to your own account they have
been already&mdash;with extra lessons,” remarked
jolly Professor Hammond.</p>

<p>“That was for other breaches of discipline,”
declared Professor Skeel. “They have not been
adequately punished for sending me the anonymous
letter, nor for this strike. I think an
example should be made of them.”</p>

<p>“Well, perhaps something should be done,” admitted
Professor Hammond. “But I should
favor a mild lesson, and then&mdash;a change of programme
for the future.”</p>

<p>“And I demand a severe lesson, and a firm
hand in the future!” insisted Professor Skeel.
“Unless the Freshmen are punished I shall at
once resign, and the punishment I demand is the
plan I first mentioned. Is it to be done, Doctor
Meredith?”</p>

<p>“Ah&mdash;er&mdash;ahem!” stammered the mild head
master. “I dislike exceedingly to take such a
step, but, I suppose something should be
done.”</p>

<p>“It <em>must</em> be done!” demanded Professor
Skeel.</p>

<p>“Very well then,” sighed Doctor Meredith.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
“But it is a very strange state of affairs. However,”
he added more brightly, “I will have some
additional matter for my paper on a strike in
school,” and he seemed quite delighted.</p>

<p>The faculty meeting broke up. So, too, in due
time did the feast in Tom’s room. The boys
sneaked to their respective apartments. And,
rather strange to say, none of them was detected.
But they did not know that a special order had
come from the head master to Monitor Blackford,
in charge of Opus Manor.</p>

<p>“Humph! It was all too easy,” said Jack, as
he and Tom were ready to turn in at nearly midnight.</p>

<p>“What was?”</p>

<p>“This spread. Aside from that sneaking footstep
we heard we were not disturbed once. I’m
afraid it’s the calm before the storm. And it may
be a bad one. But we’ll weather it.”</p>

<p>“Of course we will,” declared Jack. “Say,
talk about a storm,” he added, as he peered from
the window, from which the blanket had been removed,
“it’s snowing to beat the band.”</p>

<p>“Good,” answered Tom. “We can get up a
sleighing party to-morrow, if we can’t go to Latin
class.”</p>

<p>When the Freshmen filed down to breakfast
the next morning there was a look of surprise on
every face as they glanced at the table. For at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
each place was a glass of water, and on each plate
two slices of bread.</p>

<p>“What’s this?”</p>

<p>“Is it April Fool?”</p>

<p>“Who thought of this joke?”</p>

<p>These were only a few of the remarks and
questions.</p>

<p>“I say!” called Tom to Mr. Blackford, who
came into the room, a quizzical look on his face.
“Where is our breakfast?”</p>

<p>“On the table.”</p>

<p>“Is that all?”</p>

<p>“That’s all. Orders from Doctor Meredith.”</p>

<p>“Oh, I see. He’s trying to starve us into submission.
I’ll not stand for that!” cried Tom.
“Fellows, come on!” he added. “We’ll go to
town to a restaurant!”</p>

<p>He moved to the front door.</p>

<p>“You can’t go out, Mr. Fairfield,” said the
monitor firmly.</p>

<p>“Why not, I’d like to know.”</p>

<p>“Because you, and all the others, in fact all the
Freshmen in this dormitory, are prisoners!”</p>

<p>“Prisoners!” cried a score of voices.</p>

<p>“That’s it,” went on Mr. Blackford. “You
are to stay locked in this building, on a diet of
bread and water, until you give in!”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a><br />
<small>THE ESCAPE</small></h2>


<p>Surprise, for a moment, held the boys dumb,
and then a storm of protests broke out.</p>

<p>“We’ll not stand it!”</p>

<p>“Let’s raid the pantry!”</p>

<p>“They’re trying to starve us into submission!”</p>

<p>“It’s a relic of the dark ages, boys!” cried
Bert Wilson. “A prison diet of bread and
water.”</p>

<p>“Let’s break out, and go over to the Seniors’
place in Elmwood Hall!” suggested Jack.
“They’ll feed us.”</p>

<p>“That’s right!” cried several.</p>

<p>“Hold on, fellows,” called Tom.</p>

<p>At the sound of his calm voice the rush that
had begun toward the door of the dining room,
was halted. A look of relief came over the face
of Monitor Blackford.</p>

<p>“Fellows!” said Tom, “this thing has come
to a crisis. They’re trying to break this strike by
unfair means. I’ve no doubt that the suggestion
came from Skeel. Doctor Meredith never would
have done it of his own accord. Skeel has a bad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
influence over him. Now then, it’s up to us to
beat ’em at their own game!”</p>

<p>“But we can’t live on bread and water!” declared
Ned Wilton. “At least I won’t. I’m not
used to such fare. I always want fruit in the
morning, and eggs.”</p>

<p>“So do lots of us,” said Tom quietly. “But
we’re not going to get it this morning, at least.
Now then, let’s look at this thing quietly. Let’s
accept it. It can’t last forever. Sooner or later
the story will get out, and the college faculty will
have to give in. Our cause is right, and we’ll
win. All we ask is civil treatment, as the old
sailor said after the whale chase, and blamed little
of that. Here’s for a hearty breakfast of bread
and water.”</p>

<p>He made a move toward his place.</p>

<p>“But there’s not even butter on the bread!”
cried Jack.</p>

<p>“Prisoners aren’t usually furnished with
luxuries,” commented Tom, quietly.</p>

<p>“Oh, say, I’m not going to stand for this!”
burst out Bert Wilson. “I’m going to leave, and
wire home for permission to resign from Elmwood
Hall.”</p>

<p>He strode toward the front door, intending to
see if he could get out, but Mr. Blackford stood
on guard, and he was not a small man.</p>

<p>“It’s no use, Mr. Wilson,” said the monitor,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
quietly. “The door is locked, and you can’t go
out unless you break out. And it’s a very strong
door,” he added, significantly.</p>

<p>With a gesture of impatience Bert turned toward
a window. To his surprise he noted that
the usual fastenings had been replaced by new
ones, and, in addition, the casements were screwed
down. Then, to the astonishment of the boys,
who had not noticed it before, they became aware
that bars of wood had been screwed in place
across the outside of the frames.</p>

<p>“By Jove! They have us boxed in, all right!”
cried Tom, as his attention was called to the precautions
taken to keep the lads in Opus Manor.
“This is what they were doing last night when
we were having our fun. I’ve no doubt but that
the spy came into the hall to see if we were likely
to stay up there eating, while they got in their fine
work. Oh, but we were chumps not to think of
this!”</p>

<p>“No one would,” said Jack Fitch. “I say,
though, I believe if we all go together we can
break out. We can handle Blackford!”</p>

<p>Tom shook his head. He did not intend to
submit quietly, but he knew better than to act before
he had a good plan.</p>

<p>At that moment several of the men monitors
from the other dormitories were seen in the lower
hall, and one or two were at a rear door.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>

<p>“They’re prepared to meet force with force,”
said Tom to his chums. “Just wait a bit, and
there may be something doing. Meanwhile, eat
your grub.”</p>

<p>“Hot grub this!” exclaimed Jack. “I wish
we’d saved some from last night. Any left,
Tom?”</p>

<p>“Not a crumb. Never mind, this is good for
a change,” and Tom proceeded to munch the dry
bread, and sip the water.</p>

<p>Monitor Blackford’s face showed relief. He
had been prepared to carry out the orders of the
faculty with force, if necessary, but he rather
hoped he would not have to do so, for he knew
how lads can fight when they want to. Still he
was glad they had submitted quietly. And he was
not altogether on the side of the faculty, either.</p>

<p>“I guess it won’t be for long, young gentlemen,”
he said, as he passed around the table.
“I’m sure I’m very sorry to have to do it, but I’m
a poor man, and my living&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

<p>“That’s all right,” interrupted Tom good-naturedly.
“We’re not blaming you. And, as
you say, it won’t be for long.”</p>

<p>“Then you’re going to give in?” asked the
monitor eagerly.</p>

<p>“Not much!” exclaimed Tom. “The faculty
is, and we’ll make Skeel beg our pardons. Then
we’ll have a roast turkey feast on Merry.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>

<p>“I’m afraid you never will,” spoke the monitor.
“The professor is very determined. I expect
he’ll be over before long.”</p>

<p>“We’ll be ready for him,” said Tom grimly.</p>

<p>Once they had made up their minds to accept
the situation the boys made merry over the
meager breakfast.</p>

<p>“Anyhow, we can cut all lectures!” exulted
several who were not fond of study.</p>

<p>“And we’ll have to pull our belts in a few holes
if this sort of grub keeps up long,” commented
Jack.</p>

<p>“Yes, a fine sort of strike this is!” sneered
Sam Heller. “I never agreed to starve, Tom
Fairfield.” He glared at his rival.</p>

<p>“You can starve with the rest of us,” spoke
our hero, grimly. “Besides, you can live a long
time on bread and water. I forget the exact
figures, but I think it is something over a month.”</p>

<p>“A month!” cried Jack. “I’ll never last that
long.”</p>

<p>“Neither will the strike,” answered Tom,
coolly. “I have something up my sleeve.”</p>

<p>“What is it?” clamored half a dozen.</p>

<p>“I’ll tell you later. Now to get what amusement
we can. Come on up to my room, and we’ll
talk it over.”</p>

<p>They did talk it over, from all standpoints, but
they could not agree on what was best to be done.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>
It was a cold, blowy, blustery day outside, the
storm being not far short of a blizzard.</p>

<p>The dormitory was warm, but soon the healthy
appetites of the lads asserted themselves, and
they felt the lack of their usual good breakfast.
Still, save for Sam Heller, no one thought of
giving in. All stuck by Tom.</p>

<p>During the morning, groups of students from
other dormitories, the Senior, Junior and Sophomore,
came past Opus Manor, and cruelly made
signs of eating, for of course the story of the imprisonment
of the Freshman class was known all
through the college.</p>

<p>“Say, I’ve got an idea!” exclaimed Jack, as he
saw some of his friends in the upper classes standing
under his window in an angle of the building.
“Why can’t they smuggle us something to eat?
We can let down a basket or a box, and haul it
up.”</p>

<p>“That’s the stuff!” cried Bert Wilson.
“Let’s drop ’em a note.”</p>

<p>One was written and tossed out to Bruce Bennington
and some friendly Seniors. They nodded
assent as they read it, and hurried off.</p>

<p>“Now to make a basket of some sort!” exclaimed
Jack.</p>

<p>“Take our fishing creels,” suggested Tom, who
seemed to be busily engaged in thinking out something.
Accordingly the fishing baskets were tied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>
to strings, which the boys collected from many
pockets, and were made ready to be lowered for
food.</p>

<p>In due time, under cover of the storm, which
had grown so bad that the swirling flakes hid objects
ten feet away, the Seniors returned with food
which they had somehow obtained. There were
also bottles of cold coffee and soft drinks.</p>

<p>“This is great!” cried Jack, as he hauled up
the creels, several times, well laden. “There
isn’t going to be a feast, but it’s something.”</p>

<p>“And it has given me the idea I wanted!”
cried Tom.</p>

<p>“What is it?” demanded several.</p>

<p>“We’ll escape from the second story windows
to-night! We can make ropes of the bed clothes,
in real story-book fashion, lower ourselves down,
and hie into town. We’ll put up at some hotel or
boarding houses there, and the school can get
along without us until they recognize our
rights.”</p>

<p>“Good!” came in an enthusiastic chorus.
“Let’s start right away,” added Jack.</p>

<p>“No, not until after dark,” advised Tom.
“We will be caught if we go before.”</p>

<p>The sandwiches and other things which the
Seniors had provided made a welcome addition
to the slim dinner. Professor Skeel came in as
the boys were about to arise from the table, probably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>
to gloat over them. He was received with
a storm of hisses.</p>

<p>“Stop that, instantly!” he cried, his face pale
with anger.</p>

<p>“Keep it up,” ordered Tom, and keep it up the
boys did, until the discomfited instructor had to
withdraw, vowing vengeance on the lads whom
even a diet of bread and water, and the humiliation
of being made prisoners, could not subdue.</p>

<p>“But I’ll break their spirit yet!” said the professor,
grimly.</p>

<p>The preparations for the escape went on. Several
ropes were made from torn sheets and light
blankets, and fastened to heavy objects as anchors,
in various room whence the lads were to take
French leave. Several were to drop from Tom’s
window.</p>

<p>The storm grew worse, and the boys put on
their heaviest garments. Night approached, the
bread and water supper was served, and Mr.
Blackford remarked to his wife:</p>

<p>“I don’t see what makes the boys so cheerful.”</p>

<p>“Maybe they are up to some mischief,” she
suggested.</p>

<p>“How could they be?” he asked. “They
can’t get out to get anything to eat, for the doors
and windows are all fastened.”</p>

<p>“Well, you never can tell what boys are going
to do,” she said. “I’d be on the watch.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>

<p>“I will,” agreed her husband, and he and the
other monitors looked well to the fastening of
the doors and casements.</p>

<p>“All ready now, boys?” asked Tom, as it grew
darker.</p>

<p>“All ready,” answered Jack. “I don’t believe
they can see us now.”</p>

<p>“Go easy,” advised Tom. “Hold on tight
going down, and don’t slip. One at a time, and
we’ll meet at the twin oaks on the far edge of the
campus, and tramp into town. The car line is
blocked, I guess, with all this snow.”</p>

<p>One by one the boys slid down the improvised
ropes, going from rooms where they could drop
to the ground unobserved from any of the lower
windows.</p>

<p>“Are we all here?” asked Tom, when the
escape was finally concluded, and the crowd of
students had assembled under the oak trees, the
few brown leaves of which rustled in the wintry
blast.</p>

<p>“I guess so,” answered Jack. “But I didn’t
see Sam Heller.”</p>

<p>“I saw him slide down a rope from Pete
Black’s room,” remarked Bert Wilson, “and
then I noticed that he sneaked off by himself.”</p>

<p>“Let him go,” suggested Tom. “We’re better
off without him.”</p>

<p>“Unless he’s going to squeal on us,” came from
Jack, suddenly.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a><br />
<small>THE BURNING EFFIGY</small></h2>


<p>“That’s so!” exclaimed Tom, after a moment’s
consideration. “I never thought of that.
It would be just like Sam. Oh, but what’s the
use worrying, anyhow? They’ll know, sooner or
later, that we’ve escaped, and anything that sneak
Heller can tell them won’t do us any harm.
Come on to town.”</p>

<p>They headed into the storm, which seemed to
become worse every minute, with the wind whipping
the stinging flakes into the faces of the lads,
who bent to the blast.</p>

<p>“I say!” cried Horace Gerth. “This is
fierce!”</p>

<p>“The worst ever!” cried Jack.</p>

<p>“You can turn back, if you want to,” commented
Tom, grimly. “Back to bread and
water.”</p>

<p>“Not for mine!” exclaimed Bert Wilson.</p>

<p>“Me for a hot meal in town,” declared Tom.
“I’ll stand treat if any fellows are short of cash.”</p>

<p>“Good!” cried several, as they trudged on.</p>

<p>It did not take very long to make the lads<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>
aware that they were in for a bad time. The
snow was drifted heavily and the road to town,
never good at the best, was almost impassable.
As Tom had predicted, the trolley cars had long
since ceased running, and there was not a vehicle
track to be seen in the darkness, that was but
faintly relieved by the white snow.</p>

<p>“We’re going to have a hard pull of it,” commented
Jack, as he floundered to Tom’s side.</p>

<p>“That’s right. I wish we had had a better
night for the escape, but we had to take our
chance.”</p>

<p>“Oh, of course. But it will be all right when
we strike the town, and get some hot coffee. How
far is it, anyhow?”</p>

<p>“Oh, about two miles, I guess.”</p>

<p>“Two miles of this!” groaned Jack, as he bent
his head to a particularly fierce blast. “It’s
heavy going.”</p>

<p>On and on the boys floundered. The first enthusiasm
was wearing off, and they became aware
of the stinging cold and the fierce wind that cut
through even the heaviest coats. But they did
not think of giving up.</p>

<p>After an hour of tramping, during which the
storm seemed to be doing its best to drive the
boys back, and during which time several began
to murmur discontentedly, Jack suddenly exclaimed:</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>

<p>“I say, Tom, do you think we’re on the right
road?”</p>

<p>“I don’t know. What do you think?”</p>

<p>A halt was called.</p>

<p>“I can’t make out anything,” declared Jack.
“It’s as dark as a pocket, and, even in day time,
with this storm, we couldn’t see very far. My
private opinion is that we are lost.”</p>

<p>“Lost!”</p>

<p>“Yes, that is, not seriously lost,” went on Tom,
with a trace of jollity in his voice, “but just lost
enough so that we can’t strike town to-night.”</p>

<p>“Then what are we going to do?” asked
George Abbot.</p>

<p>“There you go again&mdash;the eternal question!”
complained Jack. “We’ll have to go back, that’s
all, I guess.”</p>

<p>“I don’t like to,” said Tom. “Let’s have another
try for the road. That row of trees over
there looks like it.” He pointed to a row dimly
visible through the storm.</p>

<p>“Well, come on, one more try,” assented Jack,
and though there was some grumbling, none of
Tom’s followers deserted him.</p>

<p>On they floundered through the snow, only to
find, when they go to the trees, that they were
on the edge of a gully.</p>

<p>“But I know where we are, at any rate,” declared
Bert. “I believe I can find our way back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
to school from here, even if I can’t lead you to
town.”</p>

<p>“All right, then do it,” assented Tom wearily,
for he was tired, and rather chagrined at the failure
of his plan. “But, one thing, fellows, if we
do go back we’ve got to make a showing.”</p>

<p>“How?” asked several voices.</p>

<p>“We’ll burn Skeel in effigy before we go in,
and then they can do as they like to us.”</p>

<p>“Hurray!”</p>

<p>“That’s what!”</p>

<p>“We’ll have a demonstration,” went on Tom,
“and the whole school will come out. We’ll
take advantage of it to ask the fellows to contribute
something to our support. We’ll get more
food and then&mdash;well, we’ll see what happens in
the morning.”</p>

<p>“We’re with you!” cried his chums.</p>

<p>They turned back, hardly any but what were
glad to get the wind and stinging flakes out of
their faces, and, led by Bert, they were soon on
familiar ground.</p>

<p>“There’s Elmwood Hall,” said Jack to Tom,
as they tramped on together through the storm,
when a dull mass loomed up before them.
“What’s the programme?”</p>

<p>“First to make the effigy.”</p>

<p>“How you going to do it?”</p>

<p>“Oh, I’ve had it planned for several days. In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>
the barn I’ve got some old clothes hidden, and a
hat just like Skeel wears. All we’ve got to do is
to stuff the coat and pants with straw, tie a rope
to it, hoist it on the flag pole halyards and set fire
to it. Then things will happen of themselves.”</p>

<p>“I guess they will!” exclaimed Jack, admiringly.</p>

<p>It was quiet around the college when the Freshmen
came back after their partly unsuccessful
escape. That their going had been discovered no
one doubted, but there seemed to be no one on the
watch for them, and no undue excitement in Opus
Manor.</p>

<p>“Now for the effigy!” exclaimed Tom, as he
told the others his plans. “Jack and I, and a
few of us are enough. The rest of you stand
ready to give our yell as the fire starts.”</p>

<p>It did not take long, in the barn, and with the
light of several lanterns which Tom had hidden,
to make the effigy of Professor Skeel. It did not
look much like him, but the hat added the necessary
identification.</p>

<p>None of the school employees was about the
stable, and the boys had easy sailing.</p>

<p>“Now to string it up, and set fire to it!” cried
Tom.</p>

<p>“How you going to burn it when it’s up in the
air?” asked Bert.</p>

<p>“I’ll make a sort of fuse of twisted straw that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>
will hang down, and I can touch that off from the
ground,” was the answer.</p>

<p>With their mates crowding around them, Tom
and his chums brought out the effigy. A rope
had been provided by our hero, who seemed to
think of everything, and soon it was attached to
the flag halyards and the image was mounting
the pole through the blinding storm and darkness.</p>

<p>“Here we go!” cried Tom, as, with some
difficulty he struck a match and set the straw fuse
ablaze. “Now for the yell!”</p>

<p>It was given with a will as the fire slowly enveloped
the effigy, and, in response, there was a
rush from the dormitories of the various classes,
for it was not late yet.</p>

<p>“Three hisses for Professor Skeel!” called
someone, and it sounded as if a den of snakes had
been loosed.</p>

<p>Brighter and brighter grew the flames. The
effigy was shown in bold relief. All the college
seemed pouring out, heedless of the storm.</p>

<p>A figure came running over the snow. A
voice called out&mdash;a harsh voice:</p>

<p>“I demand that this outrage cease at once!”</p>

<p>It was Professor Skeel himself.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a><br />
<small>TOM’S FIND</small></h2>


<p>For a moment the Freshmen paused in their
wild dancing about the pole, from which hung suspended
the burning effigy. And then, as they
saw the indignant figure of the disliked professor,
and as they heard his demand, they broke out into
a further storm of hisses that sounded above the
blast of the wintry wind.</p>

<p>“Stop it! Stop it at once! Take down that
disgraceful image!” demanded Professor Skeel.
In spite of the crude way in which it had been
made he&mdash;and others as well&mdash;could easily recognize
that it was intended for him, by the hat.
“Take it down!” he shouted.</p>

<p>“Never!” came the defiant cry from the
Freshmen. They were not so cold now, but they
were hungry and tired, and they saw in Professor
Skeel the individual who, they believed, was responsible
for their troubles.</p>

<p>“Three hisses for the professor!” called
someone, and again they were given with vigor.</p>

<p>“Take it down! Take it down!” fairly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
screamed the enraged instructor. He looked
around. The whole school was witnessing the
spectacle of disgrace that had been arranged for
his benefit. Every student was present, arranged
in a big circle about the jubilant Freshmen, and
most of the faculty had come to the doors of their
residences to look on.</p>

<p>“I demand that this outrage cease at once!”
cried Professor Skeel, but no move was made to
heed his request. In fact, the Freshman only
cheered themselves, and hissed him the louder.</p>

<p>Professor Skeel could stand no more. <a href="#image01">With
glaring eyes he made a rush for the crowd of
students</a>, darting through the storm that still
raged.</p>

<p>“Look out! Here he comes!” warned Jack
to Tom.</p>

<p>“All right. I’m ready for him,” was the quiet
answer. “But I don’t believe he’ll do anything
more than try to pull down the image.”</p>

<p>“Will you let him?”</p>

<p>“I think not. Still I don’t want to get into a
personal encounter with a teacher. Let’s form
a ring around the pole, and prevent him from
touching the ropes. The effigy will soon be
burned out, anyhow.” The flames were eating
the image slowly, as the cloth and straw was moist,
and the snow flakes further dampened them.</p>

<p>“That’s a good idea!” commented Jack.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>
“Hi, fellows, no surrender. We must protect
our effigy!”</p>

<p>“That’s what!” came the rallying chorus, and
under Tom’s direction the lads formed a cordon
about the pole.</p>

<p>Professor Skeel was speeding through the
drifts. He reached the nearest lads, and roughly
thrust them aside. Tom had quickly whispered
to those nearest the pole not to fight back, but
to offer passive resistance. So, too, those on the
outer edge did not make any hostile movement
when the irate instructor went through them with
a rush.</p>

<p>“Get away from that pole! Let me take that
disgraceful image down! I shall insist upon the
most severe punishment to every one concerned in
this outrage!” stormed Professor Skeel.</p>

<p>“Stick to your posts!” cried Tom.</p>

<p>“As for you, Fairfield!” shouted the professor.
“This will be your last appearance here!
You incited the students to do this!”</p>

<p>“Correct guess!” whispered Jack with a grin.</p>

<p>Professor Skeel did not find it as easy as he
had thought, to thrust the lads away from the
pole, so that he might loose the ropes. As fast as
he shoved one lad aside, in which operation no
active resistance was offered, another Freshman
took his place, and there was a constant shifting
and whirling mass of students about the pole. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
was utterly impossible for the professor to get to
the ropes.</p>

<p>“This must stop! It shall stop!” he cried.
“I&mdash;I shall be under the necessity of personally
chastising you if you do not at once remove the
image!” he added.</p>

<p>“Stick, boys!” sung out Tom.</p>

<p>“Then take the consequences,” shouted the instructor.
He struck one of the smaller lads, who
drew back his fist. In another moment there
would have been presented the not very edifying
sight of an encounter between teacher and pupil.</p>

<p>But Professor Skeel found himself suddenly
clasped from behind, while Tom, worming his
way to the side of the lad who had been hit,
caught his upraised arm.</p>

<p>“It’s all right, Henry,” he called in his ear.
“It’s all over I guess. Hammond has hold of
Skeel.”</p>

<p>This was true. The big fat, jolly professor,
seeing how matters were likely to turn out, had
made his way into the throng, and had seized his
colleague.</p>

<p>“You had better come with me,” he advised,
quietly. “You are forgetting yourself, Professor
Skeel. You can do no good here. The boys are
past reasoning with.”</p>

<p>“I shall not go until they have taken down
that disgraceful effigy of me.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p>

<p>“It will soon burn down. Besides, Doctor
Meredith is coming out to speak to them. I have
sent for him. You had better come with me.”</p>

<p>Much against his will, Professor Skeel allowed
himself to be led away. The boys had stopped
hissing and cheering now, for they saw that the
crisis had come, and that they were either to win
their strike, or that some unusual measures would
be taken.</p>

<p>“Here comes Merry!” exclaimed Jack in a
hoarse whisper, as he descried the form of the
venerable head of the school making his way
through the storm. The burning effigy still gave
light enough to see, reflected as it was by the
snow on the ground and the swirling flakes in the
air.</p>

<p>Professor Skeel left with Professor Hammond,
and, as they passed the outer ring of
Freshman, there came a cry:</p>

<p>“Three cheers for Professor Hammond!”</p>

<p>They were given with the “Tiger!” at the
end.</p>

<p>Doctor Meredith made his way to where he
could command a view of the class that had revolted.</p>

<p>“Young gentlemen!” he began in a mild voice.</p>

<p>“Three cheers for the Doctor!” were called
for and given.</p>

<p>“Young gentlemen,” he went on, with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>
benevolent smile, “you will kindly cease this
demonstration, and return to your dormitory.”</p>

<p>“Does that mean we win?” asked Tom respectfully.
“We went on strike for better treatment
in the Latin class. If we go back, and call
the strike off, do we get it?”</p>

<p>“That’s what we want to know,” added Jack
Fitch.</p>

<p>“And we want something to eat, too,” spoke
Bert Wilson.</p>

<p>“You will return to your dormitory,” went
on Doctor Meredith in an even voice. “This
must go on no longer.”</p>

<p>“But what about the Latin class?” asked Tom
persistently. “Are we to be prisoners? Aren’t
we to be allowed to recite, or attend lectures?”</p>

<p>“I will settle all that tomorrow,” said the
doctor. “I may state, however, that you will
recite, if you do at all to-morrow, to another
Latin instructor.”</p>

<p>“Hurray! That’s what we want to know!”
yelled Tom. “Come on, boys!” he added.
“Back to bed. The strike is over!”</p>

<p>“I don’t see how,” said Jack. “He hasn’t
said that Skeel will be any different.”</p>

<p>“Aw, can’t you see through a hole in a millstone?”
asked Tom. “Can’t you see that Skeel
isn’t going to be our teacher any more?”</p>

<p>“What do you mean?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p>

<p>“I mean that there’s going to be a shift. No
more of Skeel’s Latin for us. The doctor has
seen that it won’t do, and he’s put his foot down.
Skeel can’t dictate to him any more. The strike
is over&mdash;we’ve won, and it will be admitted to-morrow.
Come on to bed.”</p>

<p>“But about the eats?” suggested Bert. “I’m
half starved. What about the eats?”</p>

<p>“Young gentlemen!” spoke Doctor Meredith
again.</p>

<p>Instantly there was silence.</p>

<p>“Young gentlemen, you will return to your
dormitory. But you may first stop in the dining
hall.”</p>

<p>“For bread and water?” asked some one.</p>

<p>“For&mdash;er&mdash;for your usual hot supper,” said
the doctor, with a smile.</p>

<p>“Hurray!” yelled Tom. “The strike is sure
over! We win!”</p>

<p>The last flickering embers of the burning effigy
died out and the scene was almost dark.
Doctor Meredith returned to his house. The
other students turned back into their dormitories.
The Freshmen made a break from around the
flag staff and ran toward the place where a
much-needed supper awaited them.</p>

<p>As Tom, with Jack at his side, hurried across
the spot where Professor Skeel had struck the
Freshman, our hero saw something black lying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>
on the snow. He stopped and picked it
up.</p>

<p>“Someone’s pocketbook,” he remarked. “I’ll
look inside for a name, and return it. Oh, Jack,
we win!”</p>

<p>“And we’re going to eat!” added Jack with
a sigh of satisfaction. As they entered the dining
hall they saw Sam Heller there. He had sneaked
back when the others were escaping and had practically
surrendered. He was hissed when this became
known.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a><br />
<small>THE SAVING OF BRUCE</small></h2>


<p>“What have you there, Tom?” asked Jack.
They were in their room, some time after the
riot over the burning effigy, and following a
more bountiful supper than they had partaken of
in many a long day. They had talked over the
events and Sam Heller’s desertion.</p>

<p>“Oh, but you should see those boys eat!” exclaimed
Mrs. Blackford to her husband, after a
visit to the dining hall.</p>

<p>“I don’t blame them,” was the answer. “I’m
glad it’s over, and that they have won. I never
did like that Skeel.” The monitor had confided
to Tom that as soon as Doctor Meredith had
word of the return of the students from their
unsuccessful trip toward the town, he had ordered
a big supper gotten ready. And now Tom
and his chum were in their room, tired but
happy.</p>

<p>“This,” remarked Tom, as he looked at the
object to which Jack referred, “this is a pocketbook
I picked up out on the campus near the flag
pole. Some one dropped it during the excitement,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>
I guess. I’ll see if there’s a name in it, so I can
send it back.”</p>

<p>He opened it. There were some banknotes
and a number of papers. Tom rapidly looked
the latter over, and, as he caught sight of one,
he uttered a whistle of amazement.</p>

<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Jack, who was
getting ready for bed. “Whose wallet is it?”</p>

<p>“Professor Skeel’s.”</p>

<p>“Nothing remarkable in that; is there?”</p>

<p>“No, but it’s what I found in it. Now I know
why he has such a hold over Bruce, and what
that lad’s trouble is. Look here, Jack,” and the
two boys bent their heads over a slip of paper.</p>

<p>“I should say so!” exclaimed Jack. “No
wonder he looked troubled, and acted it, too.
What are you going to do about it?”</p>

<p>“I’m going to save Bruce; that’s what I’m
going to do.”</p>

<p>“How?”</p>

<p>“I don’t just know yet, but I’ll find a way.”</p>

<p>There was subdued excitement the next morning
when the Freshmen filed down to breakfast,
and the talk was of nothing but the uprising of
the night before. Sam Heller was practically
ignored, but he did not seem to mind.</p>

<p>“Are we to get bread and water this morning,
Blackie?” asked Tom, of the monitor, at the
same time playfully poking him in the ribs.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p>

<p>“No, sir, the usual meal.”</p>

<p>“And are we still locked in?” demanded Jack.</p>

<p>“No, sir, you can go wherever you like.
Chapel I should imagine, first.”</p>

<p>“Oh, of course,” agreed Tom. “I want my
eggs soft boiled,” he added most prosaically.</p>

<p>On the way to the morning devotions Tom
pulled out the wallet.</p>

<p>“I guess I’ll send this over to Skeel’s house,
instead of taking it myself,” he said to Jack. “It
might raise a row if I went there.” And, requesting
one of the assistant janitors to do the
errand, Tom proceeded to chapel. Thus the
wallet was returned to its owner, but minus a certain
bit of paper.</p>

<p>“Well, you fellows certainly cut things
loose!” exclaimed Bruce Bennington admiringly
to Tom, as he met our hero later. “You won
hands down. I wish I could do things as easily
as you seem to do,” and he sighed. Tom noticed
that the look of worry and trouble on the Senior’s
face was deepened.</p>

<p>“Look here, Bruce!” exclaimed Tom. “I
wish you would tell me exactly what your trouble
is. Maybe I can help you.”</p>

<p>“No you couldn’t.”</p>

<p>“I think so,” and there was a peculiar note in
Tom’s voice. “Tell me,” he urged. The two
were walking by themselves over a deserted part<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>
of the snow-covered campus. The storm had
ceased, and the day, though clear, was quite cold.
The weather was crisp and fine.</p>

<p>“Hanged if I don’t tell you!” burst out Bruce.
“I don’t know why it is, but I took a liking to
you the first time I saw you. I had half a notion
to tell you then, but I didn’t. I haven’t told anyone&mdash;I
wish, now, I had. Now I’m going to tell
you. It’s come to a show-down, anyhow. I was
just on my way to see Professor Skeel. He’s at
the bottom of my trouble, as you may have
guessed. He has sent for me. The jig is up.”</p>

<p>“I’ll go with you,” volunteered Tom. “I
fancy I know part of your trouble, at least.”</p>

<p>“You do?” burst out Bruce in amazement.</p>

<p>“Yes. Look at that,” and Tom held out a bit
of paper.</p>

<p>“I say, Tom,” hailed Jack from a distance, as
he came running up. “What are we to do?
There’s a notice posted, saying we are to go to
Latin recitation to Professor Hammond, temporarily,
and then afterward the Freshmen are to
meet Doctor Meredith and Professor Skeel.
That looks as if we hadn’t won after all. The
boys are anxious.”</p>

<p>“I’ll be with them in a little while,” answered
Tom. “It’s all right. We win the strike all
right, only things have to be adjusted formally
I suppose. But I’ll say this. I’ll never apologize<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>
to Skeel, and he’s got to promise to be decent, or
the strike will begin all over again.”</p>

<p>“Hurray! That’s the stuff!” cried Jack.
“That’s what we want to know. But aren’t you
coming to the lecture?”</p>

<p>“In a little while&mdash;yes. I’ve got something
else on hand now, Jack.”</p>

<p>“All right!” called his chum, knowingly.
“I’m on. See you later,” and he ran off. Jack
turned to Bruce.</p>

<p>Over the face of the Senior had come a curious
change. His trouble seemed to have vanished.</p>

<p>“Tom&mdash;Tom Fairfield!” he exclaimed.
“You’ve done me a service I can never repay.
Look here, this is a forgery!”</p>

<p>“A forgery?” asked the amazed Freshman.</p>

<p>“Yes, that’s never my signature to that promissory
note! In fact, the whole note is forged.
It’s a little like my writing, but I know I never
signed it. Say, I’m free, now!”</p>

<p>“You’d better tell me more about it,” suggested
our hero. “If I’m to have it out with
Skeel for you, I’d better know all the facts.”</p>

<p>“Sure. I’ll tell you. It won’t take long. I
made an idiot of myself, to be brief. You know
my father is well off, and he makes me a good
allowance. One of his rules, though, and one I
never broke but once, was never to gamble, and
another was never to sign a note. I broke both.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p>

<p>“Last year when I was a Junior I got in with a
fast set of fellows. We didn’t do anything very
bad, but one night there was a game of chance in
one of the rooms. I was urged to play, and, not
wanting to be a kill-joy, I foolishly agreed. I
knew dad would never forgive me if he found it
out, but I didn’t think he would. He had said I
would have to leave school, and go to work, if I
gambled, or signed a note.</p>

<p>“Well, I lost, as most anyone will if he keeps
it up long enough. I lost all my ready money,
and I got in debt. I had no way of paying, and
the Junior to whom I was indebted suggested that
I give him my I. O. U. for the amount. I did,
scribbling a promissory note on a piece of paper.
The sum was quite large, and I see now what a
chump I was. But I expected to be able to pay
in time, and the fellow said there was no hurry.</p>

<p>“But when my next allowance came I went out
on a lark, and we did some damage that we had
to pay for. This took all the cash I had, and
I owed more. I dared not ask for additional
money, for I did not want to explain to dad how
foolish I had been on two occasions. I went to
the Junior, told him my predicament, and he
kindly offered to wait for his debt, though the
note was overdue.</p>

<p>“Then, most unexpectedly, this Junior’s father
died, and left him a lot of money. He left school<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>
in a hurry to arrange his affairs, and go abroad.
The night before he left he wrote me a letter saying
he had destroyed the promissory note, and
said that I need not pay it, as it was a foolish debt
at best.</p>

<p>“That made me happy until all at once the
storm broke. Just before the close of school last
term Professor Skeel sent for me. He told me he
had a note of mine, and demanded payment. I
was dumbfounded, and said I didn’t know what
he meant.</p>

<p>“He explained that before leaving, this
junior, whose name I won’t mention, had sold my
promissory note to him, and that as he now
owned it I must pay it to him. I said he was
mistaken, and told about the letter I had.”</p>

<p>“Why didn’t you show it to him?” asked Tom.
“That would have been good evidence.”</p>

<p>“Very foolishly I had destroyed it as soon as
I read of my release from the obligation. I did
not want a scrap of paper around to remind me
of it. So I had no proof, and Skeel only laughed
at me. He said he held the note, and he showed
it to me hastily, but I thought it was the real
thing. He threatened, if I did not pay, to tell
dad, and I knew what that meant, for, somehow,
Skeel had learned about the game of chance.</p>

<p>“And that was my trouble. It’s been hanging
over me since last term and Skeel has been at me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>
several times this term to pay up. He’s been putting
the screws on harder and harder, and today
was the last day. If I couldn’t pay he was to
send word to dad, and demand the money from
him. I did try to raise the cash to settle, and
I’ve paid something on account, but I never could
raise enough, for something always seemed to
happen to use up my allowance, and I had no good
excuse for asking for more.”</p>

<p>“Why didn’t you write to this Junior, asking
if it was true that he had destroyed your note, as
he said in his letter?” Tom inquired.</p>

<p>“I did, but I never could reach him. He went
traveling in Europe. But it’s all right now. I
see the whole game. The Junior did tear up my
note, but probably Skeel found the pieces, somehow.
He made a forged copy of the note, enlarged
the amount, forged my name to it, and the
Junior’s endorsement, and relied on my fear of
publicity to make me pay. But I can now see that
this is a fake!” and Bruce held up the document.</p>

<p>“Then the sooner we tell Skeel so to his face
the better,” said Tom, firmly. “Come on, we’ll
beard the tyrant in his den!”</p>

<p>And they went.</p>

<p>“You sent for me, Professor Skeel,” began
Bruce, when he and Tom were admitted to the
study of the unpleasant Latin teacher.</p>

<p>“I did, but I have no desire to see <em>this</em> young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>
man!” and he glared at Tom. “I demand that
he withdraw at once.”</p>

<p>“And I refuse!” exclaimed Tom. “I am here
to represent Mr. Bennington, as&mdash;er&mdash;a sort of
counsel.”</p>

<p>“Then he has told you of his folly, eh?”
sneered the professor. “There is no longer need
for me to keep quiet about it. Are you ready to
pay that note, Bennington, or shall I inform your
father about your debts of honor? Remember
I came into possession of the note honestly, as the
third party, and the law will recognize my claim.
You are not a minor, and you can not plead that.
I bought the note from the student to whom you
gave it. Now, are you ready to pay, or shall I
expose you?”</p>

<p>“I am not going to pay,” said Bruce, quietly.</p>

<p>“Then I’ll disgrace you!” stormed Mr. Skeel.</p>

<p>“Have you the note in question?” asked Tom,
quietly.</p>

<p>“Yes, but what is that to you? I can produce
it when the time comes,” and the professor tapped
a black wallet lying on the table before him. It
was the one Tom had found and returned.</p>

<p>“You need not trouble,” said our hero quietly.
“<em>We</em> can produce the note now. Here it is&mdash;the
forged note!” and he held it in view, but safely
out of reach of the professor, who had sprung to
his feet in rage and amazement.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p>

<p>“Wha&mdash;what!” he cried. “Where&mdash;where
did you get that?”</p>

<p>Hurriedly, and with trembling hands, he began
searching through the wallet.</p>

<p>“It was there&mdash;it’s here now,” said Tom,
quietly. “And if you make any more threats, or
attempt in any way to annoy my friend here, I
shall lay the whole matter before Doctor Meredith,”
went on the calm Freshman. “I don’t
know but it is my duty to do it anyhow,” he added.
“Forging notes and names is a serious crime.”</p>

<p>Professor Skeel sank back in his chair, his face
the color of chalk. His lips moved, but, for a
moment, no sound came forth. Then he hoarsely
whispered:</p>

<p>“Don’t&mdash;don’t expose me&mdash;I&mdash;I’ll apologize.
It was all&mdash;all a mistake. I&mdash;I&mdash;!”</p>

<p>He faltered, and Tom, not wishing to prolong
the unpleasant scene, said to Bruce:</p>

<p>“Come.”</p>

<p>The two walked out, silently, Tom handing
the forged note to his friend. No one had a claim
on him now.</p>

<p>“Tom Fairfield, you have saved me from disgrace!”
said Bruce feelingly, and the two clasped
hands in a firm grip.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</a><br />
<small>A MISSING PROFESSOR</small></h2>


<p>“Young gentlemen,” began Doctor Meredith,
as he faced the assembled Freshmen class in the
chapel, where he had requested that they meet
him, “this is a solemn occasion. I hardly know
what to say to you. Never, in the history of Elmwood
Hall, have we gone through what has transpired
in the last few days. We have never had
a strike, nor an occasion for one. We have never
had a burning in effigy.</p>

<p>“I am at a loss what to say. I have tried to
sit as an impartial judge in this matter, and so
far, I have to admit that there is some right on
both sides, and a great deal of wrong on one side&mdash;which
side is yet to be determined.”</p>

<p>Tom wanted to say something, but he refrained.
The doctor was speaking too solemnly to be interrupted.</p>

<p>“I have considered this matter from all standpoints,”
went on the head master, “and I have
tried to see my duty. I want to do what is right
by all. For that purpose I have asked you to
meet here, and I will now go a step further and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
will send for Professor Skeel. Perhaps, when
we have a mutual conference, all differences will
be explained, a new system can be devised and
all will go on peacefully and quietly, as it always
has at Elmwood Hall.</p>

<p>“I will ask our worthy janitor, Mr. Demosthenes
Miller to step over to Professor Skeel’s
house, and request him to come here.”</p>

<p>It was about an hour after Tom’s dramatic interview
with the Latin instructor. Our hero and
Bruce had parted, Tom to go to Latin class, and,
later, with all the Freshmen in that division, to
attend the special meeting.</p>

<p>While the janitor was gone there was a painful
silence. Then the footsteps of the returning
messenger were heard. He came in alone.</p>

<p>“Is Professor Skeel coming?” asked Doctor
Meredith curiously.</p>

<p>“No, sir, he is not,” replied the janitor with a
respectful bow.</p>

<p>“Why not?” and Doctor Meredith was
plainly surprised.</p>

<p>“Because, Doctor Meredith, Professor Skeel
has gone.”</p>

<p>“Gone?”</p>

<p>“Yes, sir. Disappeared&mdash;<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">vanesco</i> as the
classic Latin puts it. His servant just informed
me that the professor packed up a few of his belongings,
and went to town to catch a train. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
will have his other things sent after him. So he
will not be here. He also left word that he would
not come back.”</p>

<p>For a moment there was a silence. Then came
a long breath of relief from the students. It was
echoed by Doctor Meredith.</p>

<p>“This&mdash;er&mdash;this&mdash;rather simplifies matters,”
he said, a bit nervously. “I had it in mind to
have Professor Skeel beg your pardon, and you,
as a class, to beg his. Then matters would have
gone on as before. But this simplifies matters.
Professor Skeel, it seems, is no longer a member
of the faculty of Elmwood Hall. I do not understand
it, but I fear he has left for good.”</p>

<p>“And I <em>know</em> it&mdash;I don’t <em>fear</em> it,” murmured
Tom. “I’m glad of it, too. It saves me the disagreeable
duty of branding him as a forger. All’s
well that ends well? I suppose.”</p>

<p>“The purpose of this meeting having been accomplished,”
went on Doctor Meredith, “you
may consider yourselves excused. You will report
for Latin recitation to Professor Hammond,
until further notice, and I will engage a new
classical professor as soon as possible.”</p>

<p>“Three cheers for Doctor Meredith!”</p>

<p>“Three more for Professor Hammond!”</p>

<p>“Three big ones for the Freshmen class,”
called Tom, when the first two had been given.</p>

<p>“And three cheers for Tom Fairfield, the best<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>
leader in Elmwood Hall!” shouted Jack Fitch,
swinging his cap.</p>

<p>That the roof remained on the chapel after all
that excitement speaks a good word for the workmen
who placed it there. Certainly such cheering
was never before heard in the old school.</p>

<p>“No more Skeel!” exulted Jack, as he
walked out of chapel, his arm linked in Tom’s.</p>

<p>“Nothing but fun from now on,” declared
Tom, “and it will soon be spring and baseball.”</p>

<p>“What are you going to do this vacation?”</p>

<p>“I don’t know. I’ve got to wait and see how
dad and mother make out in Australia, I suppose.
I must write and tell them all that happened here.”</p>

<p>What Tom did when school closed may be
learned by reading the next volume of this series,
to be called, “Tom Fairfield at Sea; or, The
Wreck of the Silver Star.”</p>

<p>“And so Skeel forged that note?” asked Jack,
when he and his chum were in their room that
night.</p>

<p>“Yes, it was a rank copy of Bruce’s signature.
And he had raised the amount, too. I guess he
was after money, all right.”</p>

<p>“I wonder where he went?”</p>

<p>“Far enough off, I imagine. He’ll never
trouble Elmwood Hall again.”</p>

<p>“Nor Bruce Bennington, either.”</p>

<p>And this was so. Bruce was a different lad,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>
from then on. His face was always smiling, as
it had been before his trouble.</p>

<p>“I never can thank you, Tom, for what you
did for me,” he said. “Only for you Skeel would
have carried out his threat, and his forgery never
would have been discovered in time to prevent my
disgrace. But I’ve made a clean breast of it to
dad, and though he gave me a hard calling down,
he’s forgiven me. Oh, I feel so glad!”</p>

<p>“And so do I,” added Tom. “We’re going to
have a new Latin prof. I understand. A jolly
young fellow.”</p>

<p>“That’s good. Here comes Demy. I wonder
what he wants?” spoke Bruce, as the studious
janitor approached, with a book as usual.</p>

<p>“Well, what is it?” asked the Senior.</p>

<p>“I fear I have made a grave mistake,” said
Mr. Miller. “In announcing the disappearance
of Professor Skeel the other day I used the Latin
word <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">vanesco</i>. I see now that I used the wrong
tense. Will you kindly set me right.”</p>

<p>“Demy!” exclaimed Tom, “if you will kindly
follow the example of Professor Skeel, and
vamoose, it will be all the same. We’ll give you
a Latin lesson later. And, in the meanwhile,
here is a dollar to buy a dictionary,” and Tom
passed over a bill to the man who was always a
friend to the students.</p>

<p>As for Professor Skeel he was not heard of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>
again for some time. But the lads of Elmwood
Hall did not care. They had Tom Fairfield, who
became more of a leader than ever after his successful
strike. As for Sam Heller, he led a miserable
life as a Freshman&mdash;ignored by nearly all.</p>

<p>“Come on in to town,” invited Bruce that
night. “I’ll treat you fellows to a good feed,
Tom. And I’ve fixed it with Merry, so we won’t
have to hurry back.”</p>

<p>“Good!” exclaimed our hero, and on his way
with his chums to a good time, we will say good-bye
to him for a time.</p>


<p class="p6 noic">THE END</p>




<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
<img src="images/image02t.jpg" width="500" height="374"
     alt="Polly says “JELL-O for me”"
     title="Polly says “JELL-O for me”" /><br />
<div class="caption">Polly says “JELL-O for me”</div>
</div>


<div class="adpage2">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">If cast upon a desert isle<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Like Crusoe long ago,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How dull the diet soon would be<br /></span>
<span class="i2">How jaded you would grow!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Your gun would get you meat enough,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Your line would catch your fish,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But what a hunger you would have<br /></span>
<span class="i2">For some nice snappy dish.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Then just suppose one sunny day,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">While striding on the beach,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You’d hear your jolly Polly give<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A most delightful screech.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And this is what old Pol would say&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">For he’s a jolly fellow&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">“I don’t want crackers, no-sir-ee,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">When I can feast on Jell-O.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">“We’ve lots or nuts on this here isle;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Go pick ’em, Mr. Crusoe,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We’d like to eat a good dessert,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Get busy and we’ll do so.”<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="noi">There are six pure fruit flavors of Jell-O: Strawberry, Raspberry,
Lemon, Orange, Cherry, Chocolate. Every child wants the little
book, “Miss Jell-O Gives a Party,” and we will send it free upon
request, but be sure your name and address are plainly written.</p>
</div>

<p class="noic"><i>America’s most famous dessert</i></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
<img src="images/image02b.jpg" width="500" height="107"
     alt="Jell-O ad bottom"
     title="Jell-O ad bottom" /><br />
<div class="caption">

<p class="noic"><span class="smcap">Jell-O</span><br />
THE JELL-O COMPANY. Inc.<br />
Le Roy, N. Y.<br />
Bridgeburg, Ont.</p>

<p class="noic"><i>Reprinted by
permission of
John Martin’s Book,
the Child’s Magazine</i></p>
</div>
</div>



<hr class="chap" />
<p class="noi adtitle">THE BOYS’ OUTING LIBRARY</p>

<p class="noic"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full color.<br />
Price, per volume, 65 cents, postpaid.</i></p>


<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;">
<img src="images/image03.jpg" width="150" height="213"
     alt="THE BOYS’ OUTING LIBRARY"
     title="THE BOYS’ OUTING LIBRARY" />
</div>

<p class="p2 noi"><b>THE SADDLE BOYS SERIES</b></p>

<p><span class="smcap">By CAPT. JAMES CARSON</span></p>

<p class="noi">
The Saddle Boys of the Rockies<br />
The Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon<br />
The Saddle Boys on the Plains<br />
The Saddle Boys at Circle Ranch<br />
The Saddle Boys on Mexican Trails</p>


<p class="p2 noi"><b>THE DAVE DASHAWAY SERIES</b></p>

<p><span class="smcap">By ROY ROCKWOOD</span></p>

<p class="noi">
Dave Dashaway the Young Aviator<br />
Dave Dashaway and His Hydroplane<br />
Dave Dashaway and His Giant Airship<br />
Dave Dashaway Around the World<br />
Dave Dashaway: Air Champion</p>


<p class="p2 noi"><b>THE SPEEDWELL BOYS SERIES</b></p>

<p><span class="smcap">By ROY ROCKWOOD</span></p>

<p class="noi">
The Speedwell Boys on Motorcycles<br />
The Speedwell Boys and Their Racing Auto<br />
The Speedwell Boys and Their Power Launch<br />
The Speedwell Boys in a Submarine<br />
The Speedwell Boys and Their Ice Racer</p>


<p class="p2 noi"><b>THE TOM FAIRFIELD SERIES</b></p>

<p><span class="smcap">By ALLEN CHAPMAN</span></p>

<p class="noi">
Tom Fairfield’s School Days<br />
Tom Fairfield at Sea<br />
Tom Fairfield in Camp<br />
Tom Fairfield’s Pluck and Luck<br />
Tom Fairfield’s Hunting Trip</p>


<p class="p2 noi"><b>THE FRED FENTON ATHLETIC SERIES</b></p>

<p><span class="smcap">By ALLEN CHAPMAN</span></p>

<p class="noi">
Fred Fenton the Pitcher<br />
Fred Fenton in the Line<br />
Fred Fenton on the Crew<br />
Fred Fenton on the Track<br />
Fred Fenton: Marathon Runner</p>

<p class="noic"><i>Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue.</i></p>

<p class="p2 noic">CUPPLES &amp; LEON COMPANY, Publishers &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; New York</p>




<hr class="chap" />
<p class="noi adtitle">THE BOY RANCHERS SERIES</p>

<p class="noi adauthor"><span class="smcap">By WILLARD F. BAKER</span></p>

<p class="noic"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors</i></p>

<p class="noic"><i><b>Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid</b></i></p>


<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;">
<img src="images/image04.jpg" width="150" height="215"
     alt="THE BOY RANCHERS SERIES"
     title="THE BOY RANCHERS SERIES" />
</div>

<p class="p2"><i>Stories of the great west, with cattle ranches as
a setting, related in such a style as to captivate
the hearts of all boys.</i></p>


<ol>
<li>THE BOY RANCHERS<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Solving the Mystery at Diamond X</i></span>

<p>Two eastern boys visit their cousin. They
become involved in an exciting mystery.</p></li>


<li>THE BOY RANCHERS IN CAMP<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or The Water Fight at Diamond X</i></span>

<p>Returning for a visit, the two eastern lads learn, with delight, that
they are to become boy ranchers.</p></li>


<li>THE BOY RANCHERS ON THE TRAIL<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or The Diamond X After Cattle Rustlers</i></span>

<p>Our boy heroes take the trail after Del Pinzo and his outlaws.</p></li>


<li>THE BOY RANCHERS AMONG THE INDIANS<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Trailing the Yaquis</i></span>

<p>Rosemary and Floyd are captured by the Yaqui Indians but the
boy ranchers trailed them into the mountains and effected the rescue.</p></li>


<li>THE BOY RANCHERS AT SPUR CREEK<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Fighting the Sheep Herders</i></span>

<p>Dangerous struggle against desperadoes for land rights brings out
heroic adventures.</p></li>


<li>THE BOY RANCHERS IN THE DESERT<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Diamond X and the Lost Mine</i></span>

<p>One night a strange old miner almost dead from hunger and hardship
arrived at the bunk house. The boys cared for him and he told
them of the lost desert mine.</p></li>


<li>THE BOY RANCHERS ON ROARING RIVER<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Diamond X and the Chinese Smugglers</i></span>

<p>The boy ranchers help capture Delton’s gang who were engaged in
smuggling Chinese across the border.</p></li>
</ol>

<p class="noic"><i>Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</i></p>

<p class="noic">CUPPLES &amp; LEON COMPANY, Publishers &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; New York</p>




<hr class="chap" />
<p class="noi adtitle"><span class="smcap">The Webster Series</span></p>

<p class="noi adauthor">By FRANK V. WEBSTER</p>


<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;">
<img src="images/image05.jpg" width="150" height="208"
     alt="The Webster Series"
     title="The Webster Series" />
</div>

<p class="p2">Mr. Webster’s style is very much like
that of the boys’ favorite author, the late
lamented Horatio Alger, Jr., but his tales
are thoroughly up-to-date.</p>

<p>Cloth. 12mo. Over 200 pages each. Illustrated.
Stamped in various colors.</p>

<p>Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid.</p>

<ul class="p2">
<li>Only A Farm Boy<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Dan Hardy’s Rise in Life</i></span></li>

<li>The Boy From The Ranch<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Roy Bradner’s City Experiences</i></span></li>

<li>The Young Treasure Hunter<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Fred Stanley’s Trip to Alaska</i></span></li>

<li>The Boy Pilot of the Lakes<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Nat Morton’s Perils</i></span></li>

<li>Tom The Telephone Boy<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or The Mystery of a Message</i></span></li>

<li>Bob The Castaway<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or The Wreck of the Eagle</i></span></li>

<li>The Newsboy Partners<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Who Was Dick Box?</i></span></li>

<li>Two Boy Gold Miners<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Lost in the Mountains</i></span></li>

<li>The Young Firemen of Lakeville<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Herbert Dare’s Pluck</i></span></li>

<li>The Boys of Bellwood School<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Frank Jordan’s Triumph</i></span></li>

<li>Jack the Runaway<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or On the Road with a Circus</i></span></li>

<li>Bob Chester’s Grit<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or From Ranch to Riches</i></span></li>

<li>Airship Andy<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or The Luck of a Brave Boy</i></span></li>

<li>High School Rivals<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Fred Markham’s Struggles</i></span></li>

<li>Darry The Life Saver<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or The Heroes of the Coast</i></span></li>

<li>Dick The Bank Boy<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or A Missing Fortune</i></span></li>

<li>Ben Hardy’s Flying Machine<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Making a Record for Himself</i></span></li>

<li>Harry Watson’s High School Days<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or The Rivals of Rivertown</i></span></li>

<li>Comrades of the Saddle<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or The Young Rough Riders of the Plains</i></span></li>

<li>Tom Taylor at West Point<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or The Old Army Officer’s Secret</i></span></li>

<li>The Boy Scouts of Lennox<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or Hiking Over Big Bear Mountain</i></span></li>

<li>The Boys of the Wireless<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or a Stirring Rescue from the Deep</i></span></li>

<li>Cowboy Dave<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or The Round-up at Rolling River</i></span></li>

<li>Jack of the Pony Express<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or The Young Rider of the Mountain Trail</i></span></li>

<li>The Boys of the Battleship<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or For the Honor of Uncle Sam</i></span></li>
</ul>

<p class="p2 noic">CUPPLES &amp; LEON CO., Publishers, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; NEW YORK</p>




<hr class="chap" />
<p class="noi adtitle">THE BOB DEXTER SERIES</p>

<p class="noi adauthor"><span class="smcap">By WILLARD F. BAKER</span></p>

<p class="noic"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in Colors</i></p>

<p class="noic"><i><b>Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid</b></i></p>


<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;">
<img src="images/image06.jpg" width="150" height="202"
     alt="THE BOB DEXTER SERIES"
     title="THE BOB DEXTER SERIES" />
</div>

<p class="p2"><i>This is a new line of stories for boys, by
the author of the Boy Ranchers series. The
Bob Dexter books are of the character that
may be called detective stories, yet they
are without the objectionable features of the
impossible characters and absurd situations
that mark so many of the books in that class.
These stories deal with the up-to-date adventures
of a normal, healthy lad who has
a great desire to solve mysteries.</i></p>


<ol>
<li>BOB DEXTER AND THE CLUB-HOUSE MYSTERY<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or The Missing Golden Eagle</i></span>

<p>This story tells how the Boys’ Athletic Club was despoiled of its
trophies in a strange manner, and how, among other things stolen,
was the Golden Eagle mascot. How Bob Dexter turned himself into
an amateur detective and found not only the mascot, but who had
taken it, makes interesting and exciting reading.</p></li>


<li>BOB DEXTER AND THE BEACON BEACH MYSTERY<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or The Wreck of the Sea Hawk</i></span>

<p>When Bob and his chum went to Beacon Beach for their summer
vacation, they were plunged, almost at once, into a strange series of
events, not the least of which was the sinking of the Sea Hawk.
How some men tried to get the treasure off the sunken vessel, and
how Bob and his chum foiled them, and learned the secret of the
lighthouse, form a great story.</p></li>


<li>BOB DEXTER AND THE STORM MOUNTAIN MYSTERY<br />
<span class="ident"><i>or The Secret of the Log Cabin</i></span>

<p>Bob Dexter came upon a man mysteriously injured and befriended
him. This led the young detective into the swirling midst of a series
of strange events and into the companionship of strange persons, not
the least of whom was the man with the wooden leg. But Bob got
the best of this vindictive individual, and solved the mystery of the
log cabin, showing his friends how the secret entrance to the house
was accomplished.</p></li>
</ol>

<p class="noic"><i>Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</i></p>

<p class="noic">CUPPLES &amp; LEON COMPANY, PUBLISHERS &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; New York</p>




<hr class="chap" />
<p class="noi adtitle">THE COLLEGE SPORTS SERIES</p>

<p class="noi adauthor"><span class="smcap">By LESTER CHADWICK</span></p>

<p class="noic"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in Colors</i></p>

<p class="noic"><i><b>Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid</b></i></p>


<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;">
<img src="images/image07.jpg" width="150" height="215"
     alt="THE COLLEGE SPORTS SERIES"
     title="THE COLLEGE SPORTS SERIES" />
</div>

<p class="p2"><i>Mr. Chadwick has played on the diamond
and on the gridiron himself.</i></p>


<ol>
<li>THE RIVAL PITCHERS<br />
<span class="ident"><i>A Story of College Baseball</i></span>

<p>Tom Parsons, a “hayseed,” makes good on
the scrub team of Randall College.</p></li>


<li>A QUARTERBACK’S PLUCK<br />
<span class="ident"><i>A Story of College Football</i></span>

<p>A football story, told in Mr. Chadwick’s best style, that is bound
to grip the reader from the start.</p></li>


<li>BATTING TO WIN<br />
<span class="ident"><i>A Story of College Baseball</i></span>

<p>Tom Parsons and his friends Phil and Sid are the leading players
on Randall College team. There is a great game.</p></li>


<li>THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN<br />
<span class="ident"><i>A Story of College Football</i></span>

<p>After having to reorganize their team at the last moment, Randall
makes a touchdown that won a big game.</p></li>


<li>FOR THE HONOR OF RANDALL.<br />
<span class="ident"><i>A Story of College Athletics</i></span>

<p>The winning of the hurdle race and long-distance run is extremely
exciting.</p></li>


<li>THE EIGHT-OARED VICTORS<br />
<span class="ident"><i>A Story of College Water Sports</i></span>

<p>Tom, Phil and Sid prove as good at aquatic sports as they are
on track, gridiron and diamond.</p></li>
</ol>

<p class="noic"><i>Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</i></p>

<p class="noic">CUPPLES &amp; LEON COMPANY, Publishers &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; New York</p>




<hr class="chap" />
<div class="tnote">
<p class="noi tntitle">Transcriber’s Notes:</p>

<p>Printer, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected,
   except as indicated below.</p>

<p>Archaic and variable spelling is preserved.</p>

<p>Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.</p>

<p>The Author’s long dash style has been retained.</p>

<p>Inconsistencies in formatting and punctuation of individual
   advertisements have been retained.</p>

<p>Page numbers in the Table of Contents for Chapters IV and V have
   been changed to reflect the actual beginning page number in the text.</p>

</div>

<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43796 ***</div>
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