"Must be one of these quacks who go around the country trying to rope people in," said Dave. "If he is, he ought to be run out of the neighborhood."

"Maybe we'll never hear from him again," said Luke. But the boys were destined to hear from Hooker Montgomery again, and in a manner to surprise them.

Returning to the carryall, the boys took in the colors, so that they might do no further damage, and then the journey to Oak Hall was resumed. The encounter on the road had sobered them a little, and this did not wear away until they came in sight of the school buildings.

"Hurrah! I see Phil and Roger!" cried Dave, as the carryall swung in between the large oak trees that gave the place its name. "Hello!" he shouted. "Here we are again!"

"Dave!" returned the senator's son, running forward, while Phil did the same. "How are you all?" he added, waving his hand to the crowd in general.

A number of other boys were present, and soon Dave was surrounded by his old friends, all eager to shake hands. They wanted to know all about his trip, and he in return wanted to know what they had been doing. So there was a perfect babble of voices as the crowd walked into the main school building, where good old Doctor Hasmer Clay, the head of the institution, stood to welcome each new arrival.

"Glad to see you back, Porter," he said, kindly. "And I must thank you in person for the skin you sent from the ranch. We have placed it on the floor of the reception room. I am quite proud to think one of my pupils is such a good shot."

"Roger and Phil are good shots, too," answered Dave, anxious that his chums should have all the credit due them.

"So I understand." Doctor Clay paused for a moment. "I believe you met Lincoln Merwell out West." He eyed Dave curiously as he mentioned the fact.

"Yes, I met him—and we had some trouble—but it is all over now. But, Doctor Clay——" Dave motioned the master of the school to one side and lowered his voice. "Do you know that Merwell and Nick Jasniff are going to Rockville Military Academy?"

"Is it possible!"

"That is what they say. It seems to me that the authorities of Rockville ought to know what sort they are."

"That is true, Porter, but—ahem!—I don't know what I can do. You see, to tell you the truth, the management of the military academy has changed hands, and the new master and I are not on speaking terms. He wished to obtain certain pupils, and they came to this school instead, and that made him very angry. He claimed that I treated him unfairly, but I did not. Even if I were to warn him against Jasniff and Merwell it is not likely that he would take the warning in good part. Besides, the military academy is not in a prosperous condition financially, and I rather think the owners will take almost any pupils they can get."

"I see, sir. Well, if that's the case, why we might as well drop the matter," answered Dave.

"I will think it over, and perhaps I'll send a letter to the master of Rockville," returned Doctor Clay, seriously. "I don't want even an enemy to harbor such lads as Jasniff and Merwell without knowing what they are, although it would be to Rockville's credit if it took those boys and made real men out of them."

As my old readers know, Oak Hall was a large building of brick and stone, shaped in the form of a cross, with the classrooms, the private office, the dining-room, and the kitchen on the ground floor. On the second floor were the majority of the school dormitories, furnished to accommodate from four to eight pupils each. The school was surrounded by a broad campus, sloping in the rear to the Leming River, on the bank of which was located the school boathouse. At one side of the campus was a neat gymnasium, and at the other were some stables and sheds, and also a newly-built garage for automobiles and motor-cycles.

Dave and his chums had their quarters in dormitories Nos. 11 and 12, two large and well-lighted apartments, having a connecting door between. Not far away was dormitory No. 13, occupied by Nat Poole and his cronies. Merwell and Jasniff had had beds in that room, but now those places were given to others.

Roger and Phil had arrived the day before, and were already settled, and now they did what they could to make Dave at home, assisting him in unpacking his trunk and his suit-case, and putting the things away in the bureau and the clothes closet. Of course Dave had brought along some pictures and banners, and these were hung up or set on the bureau—that is, all but one photograph—one of Jessie she had given him the day before. That he kept to himself, in his private drawer with a few other treasures, under lock and key.

"Hello, Dave; can I help you?" came a voice from the doorway, and Gus Plum appeared. The former bully of the Hall was a trifle thin and pale, but his eyes were clear and his voice pleasant to hear.

"Why, Gus, how are you!" cried Dave, and shook hands warmly. "Did you have a good time this summer?"

"Quite good," answered Plum. "You know I went up to Maine with Mr. Dale. He took up half a dozen fellows, and we went in for botany and geology while we were camping out."

"Well, I guess Mr. Dale is good company," answered Dave. He referred to Andrew Dale, the first assistant teacher of the school, a man well beloved by nearly all the students. Every summer this teacher took out some of the boys, and there was always a rivalry as to who should go along.

"It was better than just—er—knocking around," stammered Gus Plum. He meant carousing around with fellows of the Merwell and Jasniff sort, and Dave understood. He hesitated for a moment and looked around, to see if anybody but Phil and Roger were in the rooms. "Of course, you know Nat Poole is back," he continued, in a low voice.

"Yes,—I saw him leave Crumville."

"Dave, you want to beware of him." Gus Plum uttered the words very earnestly.

"Oh, I am not afraid of Nat—never was."

"Yes, but this is different, Dave. I suppose you know there are a lot of new fellows at Oak Hall this year."

"There are new fellows every year—the seniors go and the freshies come in."

"Yes, but this year we have more new fellows than ever. A school in Laverport broke up, and sixteen of the students were transferred to Oak Hall—sophs, juniors, and seniors. So those fellows, added to the freshies, make quite a bunch."

"What has that got to do with Poole and me?"

"Nat Poole and one of the fellows from Laverport, a chap named Guy Frapley, are very good friends—in fact, I think they are related. This Frapley was a sort of leader at Laverport, and he has got a number of the other newcomers under his thumb. Last night I was down by the boathouse, and I heard Nat and Frapley talking about you. Nat was very anxious to do something to 'make you take a back seat,' as he termed it, and after a while Frapley consented to take the matter up with him."

"What do you suppose they'll do?" questioned Phil, who had listened to Plum's words with interest.

"I don't know exactly, but they'll do something, you can be sure of that. More than likely it will be something underhanded."

"I am not afraid of Nat Poole—nor of this Guy Frapley, either," said Dave.

"Dave has so many friends here, why should he be afraid?" asked Roger.

"Well, I only thought I'd warn you, that's all," answered the former bully, meekly. "I don't want Dave to have any more trouble if I can help it."

"It's kind of you, Gus, to tell me of this," answered Dave, heartily. "And I'll be on my guard. But I really don't think Nat Poole will cut much of a figure during this term of school. He has lost too many of his old friends."

But, for once, Dave was mistaken. Nat Poole did "cut a figure," although not quite in the manner expected, and what he and his cronies did caused Dave not a little trouble.



CHAPTER IX

THE FOOTBALL MEETING

In a few days Dave felt as much at home as ever. Nearly all of his old friends had returned to Oak Hall, and dormitories Nos. 11 and 12 were filled with as bright a crowd of lads as could well be found anywhere. In the number were Gus Plum and Chip Macklin, but the former was no longer the bully as of old, and the latter had lost his toadying manner, and was quite manly, and the other students treated them as if all had always been the best of friends.

It did Dave's heart good to see the change in Plum, and he was likewise pleased over the different way in which Macklin acted.

"I never thought it was in Gus and Chip," he said, privately, to Roger. "It shows what a fellow can do if he sets his mind to it."

"It's to your credit as much as to their own," declared the senator's son. "I don't believe Gus would have reformed if you hadn't braced him up."

"I wish I could reform Nat Poole."

"You'll never do it, Dave—but you may scare him into behaving himself."

"Have you met Guy Frapley, Roger—I mean to talk to?"

"Yes, in the gym., where Phil and I were practicing with the Indian clubs."

"What do you think of him?"

"I think he is fairly aching to become the leader of the school. He was leader at Laverport, and it breaks his heart to play second fiddle to anybody here. He and Nat are as thick as two peas. They tell me he is a great football player, so I suppose he will try to run the eleven—if the fellows will let him."

"I don't think the old players will let a new crowd run our team."

"The trouble is, some of the old players are gone, and the new crowd may count up the largest number of votes. In that case they'll be able to run things to suit themselves."

Dave had settled down to his studies in earnest, for that winter he wished to make an extra good record for himself. He loved sports, but as he grew older he realized that he was at Oak Hall more for a mental than a physical training.

"When my time comes, I shall have a good many business interests to look after," was the way he expressed himself to Phil, who joked him about "boning like a cart horse," "and I know if I haven't the education I'll be at the mercy of anybody who wishes to take advantage of my ignorance."

"Well, you are not going to give up football, are you, Dave?" questioned the shipowner's son.

"Not if they want me on the eleven."

"Well, that depends. We have a meeting Monday afternoon, in the gym."

Dave had noticed a good many whispered conversations taking place between some of the old students and all of the new ones, and he had wondered what was going on. A hint was dropped that the football meeting would "wake things up," whatever that might mean.

"I think I know what is in the wind," said Gus Plum to Dave during a recess on Monday. "Nat Poole and Guy Frapley came to me last night and they wanted me to pledge myself to support Frapley for captain of the eleven."

"Well, they had a right to do that, Gus."

"I told them I wouldn't do it. They said if I didn't I'd get left. I told 'em that wouldn't hurt me very much, because I didn't care for playing anyway."

"I see," answered Dave, thoughtfully.

He at once sought out Roger, Phil, and Sam Day,—those who had loved to play football in the past, and who had hoped to be on the eleven the present season—and talked the matter over with them. Then the shipowner's son made a quiet canvass among all those interested in football.

"Plum is right," he declared later. "Frapley, aided by Nat Poole and his cronies, is going to carry matters with a high hand."

"It's an outrage!" cried Sam. "A stranger running the Oak Hall eleven! I shall protest!"

"It won't do any good—if Frapley gets the votes," answered Roger. "Especially if he is a good player, and they say he is."

The news that there was going to be a lively time drew a large crowd to the meeting in the gymnasium. This was called to order by the former manager of the eleven, and a call was issued for nominations for a new manager.

"I nominate John Rand!" cried Nat Poole, mentioning one of the students from Laverport.

"Second the nomination!" added Guy Frapley, promptly.

"I nominate Henry Fordham," said Roger, putting up one of the old students, who did not play, but who was a good general manager, and a youth well liked by his classmates.

Dave seconded Roger's nomination, and as there were no other names submitted, the nominations were declared closed.

"Mr. Chairman, I'd like to say a few words before we hold an election—I mean, before we vote," said Sam Day, mounting a chair.

"Oh, dry up, and let us cast our ballots!" muttered Nat Poole.

"I wish to speak in favor of Henry Fordham, whom all old students of Oak Hall know so well," continued Sam. "He knows——"

"Vote! vote! Let us vote!" called out several new students loudly, and it was seen that they were urged on by Guy Frapley.

In a moment half a dozen students were speaking at once, and it took several minutes for the chairman of the meeting to restore silence. Then Sam was allowed to make a short speech and he was followed by Dave, both speaking in favor of Fordham. Then a new student spoke in favor of Rand, and then the voting began.

The result was a painful surprise for Fordham, and equally painful to Dave and his chums. So well had Nat Poole, Guy Frapley, and their cohorts laid their plans that John Rand was elected manager of the coming eleven by a majority of five votes.

"It is all up with our crowd!" murmured Roger to Dave, when the result was announced. "That crowd has got votes enough to ride over us rough-shod, and it is going to do it."

And the senator's son was right, as later events speedily proved. The new football team, made up of a regular eleven and five substitutes, counted but six old Oak Hall players. Dave, Roger, Phil, and their close chums were utterly ignored. Guy Frapley was chosen captain and quarter-back, and Nat Poole was made full-back. It is needless to say that some of the old players, who had worked so hard in the past to make Oak Hall victorious, left the meeting in disgust.

"This is the worst I was ever up against!" murmured Roger. "Talk about ingratitude! And just think that once Phil nearly lost his life to help us win!"

"And think of how hard Dave and you worked," put in a sympathizer. "It's a burning shame, that's what it is."

"Well, there is one satisfaction," said Dave, as calmly as he could, although he was as depressed as any one. "It is on their shoulders now to make good. We haven't anything on that score to worry about."

"I'll tell you what let's do!" cried Phil. "We'll organize a scrub eleven, and wax 'em out of their shoes!"

"I don't believe they'll play you—they are afraid," said Buster.

"Never mind, then we'll play somebody else. We can challenge them, anyway. If they are afraid of us we want the whole school to know it."

Phil's idea met with considerable favor, and he easily persuaded Dave, Roger, Sam, Gus Plum, and a number of others to join his scrub eleven, which was named the Old Guard. Phil was manager as well as captain, and played right half-back, while Dave was quarter-back, and Roger was center. The eleven went into practice with as much vigor as if they were training for some championship games.

As had been anticipated, the regular eleven tried to ignore the Old Guard. When a challenge to play was issued, John Rand sent back word that he could fix up his own scrub eleven without any help from outsiders. His scrub was made up of freshmen and, of course, the regular team beat them with ease.

"Never mind—they are afraid of us—and we'll let everybody know it," declared Roger. And then the challenge from the Old Guard to the regular eleven was posted up in the gymnasium, where all might see it. It was torn down over night, but a new copy was put up by the following noon.

As was to be expected, the challenge created much talk, and Phil and Frapley almost came to blows about it. Phil and his chums were accused of trying to break up the good feeling of the school in general, and, in return, the shipowner's son very bluntly told the new captain of the school eleven that he would lead Oak Hall to defeat.

"It's time enough to talk like that after we are beaten," declared Guy Frapley, grimly. Then it was announced that the regular Oak Hall football eleven would play the opening game of the season against an eleven from Lemington on a Saturday afternoon, the contest to take place on the Lemington Athletic Grounds.

"They ought to be waxed good and proper!" said Chip Macklin.

"Who?" asked Dave.

"Our eleven, Dave. Oh, I know what you will say—that that isn't the true school spirit and all that—but just the same, Poole and Frapley and that bunch don't deserve to win."

"I've got half a notion not to go to the game," declared Sam.

"I am going," answered Dave. "I don't like that crowd, and I don't think we were treated fairly. Just the same, for the honor of Oak Hall, I am going to the game and root for our side."

"The same old Dave!" murmured Roger, in admiration. "Well, if you're going I am going too."

Lemington was situated several miles up the river, and while some of the boys decided to go to that town by the carryall and on their bicycles and motor-cycles, others decided to go up in boats.

As my old readers know, Nat Poole was the owner of a good-sized motor-boat, a craft he had had stored in the boathouse since the last summer. In this boat the dudish student frequently went for a cruise up and down the river, taking his cronies along. The fact that he owned the craft and could give them a ride, made Nat quite popular with some of the students.

"I'll take the eleven up to Lemington in my motor-boat," said Nat to the manager. "It will be a fine sail, if the weather is good." And so it was arranged.

As the weather remained warm, Dave and his chums often went out on the river for a row, and one afternoon they rowed as far as Bush Island, about two miles away. On the island were some chestnut trees, and the boys walked over to see if the nuts were fit to gather.

"I see some other fellows here!" cried Roger, and pointed to some boys in military uniforms some distance away.

"They must be fellows from Rockville Academy," answered Dave. "I didn't think they'd come as far as this after school hours."

"Well, I suppose they have as much right here as we have," was Phil's comment.

They passed on, and presently lost sight of the other crowd. Then, quarter of an hour later, they came out on the island shore, to see the other lads in a rowboat, just getting ready to leave the place.

"Why, there are Link Merwell and Nick Jasniff!" exclaimed Roger.

"Right you are," answered Dave. Then he gave another look. "Where is our boat?" he questioned, quickly.

All looked around and saw that their rowboat was missing.

"They must have taken it," cried Phil. He raised his voice: "I say, Merwell! Jasniff! Stop, I want to talk to you!"

"Not much!" called back Nick Jasniff.

"We don't want to talk to you," answered Link Merwell.

"What have you done with out boat?" questioned Roger.

"That's for you to find out!" returned Nick Jasniff. "Ta ta! Hope you have a nice time getting back to Oak Hall!"

And then he and Link Merwell and their companions took up their oars and rowed swiftly away from Bush Island.



CHAPTER X

LOOKING FOR A MISSING ROWBOAT

"We are certainly in a pickle," remarked Roger, as the Rockville cadets rounded a point of the island and disappeared from view.

"I wonder what they did with our boat," said Phil. "I don't see it anywhere on the water."

"Perhaps they took it to the other side of the island," suggested Dave.

"Would they have time to do that?"

"I don't know. This is a total surprise to me, Phil."

"They did the trick on the impulse of the moment," went on Roger. "For they didn't know we were coming here."

"And we didn't know they were here," added Dave. "Let us take a look around and see if we can spot the boat."

"All right, I'll go down the shore and you can go up," cried Phil, and set off at as rapid a gait as the nature of the ground permitted.

A hasty search did not bring the rowboat to light. The boys met on the other side of the island, and stared wonderingly at each other.

"See anything?"

"Not a thing."

"The boat must be somewhere."

"Maybe they sunk her!" cried the senator's son. "Merwell and Jasniff are just unprincipled enough to do it."

"If they did that, they must have done it close to where we tied her up. They wouldn't have time to take her away," returned Dave. "Let us go back and see if we can find any trail in the mud and sand."

They crossed the island, passing the chestnut trees as they did so. Under one of the trees Dave picked up a letter. It was addressed to Nicholas Jasniff, General Delivery, Rockville.

"Jasniff must have dropped this when he was nutting," said Dave, as he and the others looked at the address.

"What is in it?" asked Phil. "It's open; read it."

"Would that be fair, Phil?"

"I think so. Jasniff is an enemy, not a friend. It may contain some clew to his doings, and if there is anything underhanded going on we can let the authorities know."

Dave took out the single sheet that the envelope contained. On it was written, in a sprawling, heavy hand, the following:

"MY DEAR JASNIFF:

"I got your leter and I wil do all I can to help you pervided you wil help me on that bussines I meantioned to you. I know we both can make money and hardly anny risks. Beter not come to the office but meet me at Dunns on the River.

"Yours afectenately, "DR. H. MONTGOMERY."

"Why, this letter was written by that Doctor Hooker Montgomery, the man whose silk hat we knocked off!" cried Dave.

"His education seems to be extremely limited," observed Phil. "He'd never stand at the top of the spelling class, would he?"

"I was asking about him, and he's a regular fakir," said Roger. "He isn't a doctor at all, although he calls himself one. He puts up a number of medicines and calls them 'Montgomery's Wonderful Cures.' I was told that he used to do quite a business among the ignorant country folks, but lately hardly anybody patronizes him."

"And that is why he is willing to aid Jasniff in some scheme, I suppose," said Phil. "I'll wager it is something underhanded. When are they to meet?"

"It doesn't say," answered Dave. "But the postmark is a week old, so I presume the meeting is a thing of the past. I guess I'll not keep the letter," he concluded, and cast it on the ground where he had found it.

Arriving at where the rowboat had been tied up, the three chums looked around carefully, and soon saw footprints leading to a little cove, shaded by tall elderberry bushes. Pushing some of the bushes aside, Dave looked into the water and gave a cry:

"Here she is, fellows!"

"Have you really found the boat, Dave?" questioned Phil.

"Yes. She's at the bottom of the cove. They piled her full of stones and sunk her. They must have had quite a job doing it."

"And here are the oars!" exclaimed Roger, dragging them from the bushes. "Say, it's going to be cold work getting that boat into shape for use," he added, for the sun was going down and the air was keen.

"I'll do it, if you don't care to," answered Dave. "A cold plunge will do me good."

"I'll help, if you say so?" volunteered Phil.

"Never mind, Phil; I think I can do it alone. No use in more than one undressing."

The rowboat had been sunk in water three feet deep. Taking off most of his clothing, and also his shoes and socks, Dave waded into the cove and set to work taking the stones out of the craft. It was certainly cold, and only the heavy labor served to keep his blood in circulation.

"They didn't pound a hole in her, did they?" asked the senator's son, anxiously.

"I don't see any hole," answered Dave. "I'll soon know. There aren't many more stones left."

He had great difficulty in budging the bottom stone, the largest of the lot. But, once this was removed, the boat was quite buoyant and came close to the surface. Then Dave shoved the craft close to shore, and turned it over to empty it.

"As good as ever!" cried Roger, and his tones showed his relief. "Now, Dave, get into your clothes again, and Phil and I will row you back to the Hall. We'll be late—and you know what that means, if Job Haskers catches us."

"We've got a good excuse," said Phil. "But maybe Haskers won't accept it," he added, remembering only too well how harsh and unreasonable the second assistant teacher could be at times.

"I think I'll do some of the rowing myself, just to get warm," said Dave, when they got into the craft, and he took an oar; and soon Bush Island was left behind.

"This is another mark against Merwell and Jasniff," said the shipowner's son, as they pulled in the direction of the school. "I suppose they thought we'd have to stay on the island all night."

"Yes, and maybe longer," said Dave. "I fancy they wouldn't care if we had to remain there until we were almost starved."

"We'll have to get back at them somehow," came from Roger.

It was quite dark when they reached the boathouse at Oak Hall. No students were in sight, all having gone in to supper. Dave looked at his watch.

"Supper is almost over!" he cried. "We had better hurry if we want anything to eat!"

"Eat? Rather! I am as hungry as a bear!" cried Phil.

"So am I," added the senator's son.

Putting the rowboat away, the three boys started in the direction of the big school building. As they did this they saw somebody approaching them from an angle of the east wing.

"It's Haskers!" whispered Phil. "He is coming this way!"

"Let's run for it!" cried Roger. "We can get in on the other side! Quick!"

"Boys! boys! Stop!" called out Job Haskers, as they started to run. "I know you, Porter! Morr! Lawrence! Stop, I say!" And he came running after them.

"It's no use, he recognizes us!" groaned Phil, and came to a halt, and so did the others.

"What is the meaning of this? I demand to know where you have been?" cried Job Haskers, sourly, as he came up, puffing from his unusual exertions.

"We are sorry, Mr. Haskers, but we were out rowing, and we were detained at Bush Island," explained Dave.

"Did you have permission to stay away during the supper hour?"

"No, sir. We didn't intend to do so. We were——"

"Humph! that is no excuse, young man, no excuse whatever! You know the rule. Go to your rooms at once—and stay there until to-morrow morning." And Job Haskers glared coldly at the three students. He seemed always to take special delight in catching a student at some infringement of the rules, and in meting out punishment.

"We haven't had any supper yet," said Roger.

"That is not my fault, Morr. The dining-room is now about to close, and you cannot go in. It will be a lesson to you to be on hand promptly in the future."

"We have got to have something to eat!" declared Phil, stubbornly.

"Ha! don't you dare to talk back to me, Lawrence! If you do it again, I'll give you some extra lessons to learn."

"Mr. Haskers, won't you listen to us?" asked Dave, in a steady voice. "We have a good excuse to offer for being late."

"I don't want any excuses. It was your duty to return to the Hall in time for supper."

"We simply couldn't get here. We were on Bush Island, and our boat was taken away from us."

"I saw you come back here in a boat."

"We found our boat after a while,—after we had lost a good hour looking for it. Then we rowed back as fast as we could."

"Pooh! The usual story! I want no such lame excuses! Some teachers might accept them, but not I! Go to your rooms, and at once,—and don't dare to come downstairs until to-morrow morning—or I'll cut off all your holidays until Christmas!" And Job Haskers folded his arms and stood like a judge before the boys.

An angry remark arose to Dave's lips. But he checked it and turned toward the school building, and Roger and Phil followed. Job Haskers marched after them.

"Go upstairs at once!" he ordered. "No lingering in the lower hall!" For he was afraid the lads might slip him and try to get something to eat on the sly.

"Mr. Haskers, I wish to talk to Doctor Clay," said Dave.

"Doctor Clay has nothing to do with this affair! I am in charge here for the present."

"Do you mean to say that I can't see the doctor?"

"Doctor Clay is away on business. You may see him in the morning if you wish."

"I don't think he'd send us to bed supperless."

"It is your own fault. You boys have got to learn to obey the rules of this institution. Perhaps it will be a lesson well learned."

"I think it's an outrage!" muttered Phil.

"What is that, Lawrence?" cried the teacher, harshly. But Phil did not repeat his statement.

There seemed to be no help for it, and slowly the three students passed up the stairs and entered their dormitory. Job Haskers watched them out of sight, and then stalked away, his face as grim and hard as ever.

"Well, doesn't this beat the nation!" groaned Roger, as he plumped down on one of the beds.

"Evidently old Haskers hasn't forgotten what happened last term," was Phil's comment. "He is going to make it just as hard as he can for us."

"I'm as hungry as can be. I didn't have much dinner. Dave, are you going to stand for this?"

"What do you mean, Roger—staying in the room until to-morrow?"

"That and going without supper."

"I don't care so much about staying in the room," was the reply. "But I can assure you of one thing,—I am not going without my supper."

"How are you going to get it?"

"I don't know yet. But I am going to get it somehow," replied Dave, and his tone of voice showed that he meant what he said.



CHAPTER XI

A MIDNIGHT FEAST

While the three students were discussing the situation the door of the dormitory opened, and Sam Day and Shadow Hamilton entered.

"Hello, why weren't you down to supper?" asked Sam.

"We didn't get here in time," answered Roger. And then he related what had occurred on Bush Island.

"It was just like Jasniff and Merwell," said Shadow. "And like old Haskers, too! I suppose he is laughing to himself now because he made you go without your supper."

"But I am not going without it," said Dave. "That is, not if you fellows will do me a favor."

"Want me to get something from the pantry for you?" queried Sam, quickly. "I'll do it—if it can be done."

"You can't get in the pantry any more," said Phil, with a wry face. "Since Dave and I did the trick some time ago they keep the doors locked."

"And that puts me in mind of a story!" cried Shadow. "Once a little boy——"

"Quit it, Shadow!" interrupted Sam. "You don't expect Dave and Roger and Phil to listen to your yarns when they are starving, do you? Tell the story after they have filled up."

"Well, it was only a short yarn," pleaded the story-teller of the school. "But, of course, if we can do anything——"

"You can—I think," said Dave. "But you must act quickly."

"What's to be done?"

"Since I have been here I have noticed a wagon going through on the main road every evening about this time. It belongs to Rousmann, the delicatessen man of Rockville. I wish you'd stop him and see what you can buy for us." And as he finished Dave took a two-dollar bill from his pocket and held it out.

"By hookey! I'll do it!" cried Sam, readily. "Come on, Shadow! Maybe we can get enough to have a little feast to-night!"

"Not on two dollars," answered Phil. "Here's another fifty cents."

"Oh, I've got a little money of my own," returned Sam.

"So have I—thirty-five cents," added Shadow. "My allowance is behind time. And that puts me in mind of another story. Two men were——Oh, but I forgot, you are too hungry to listen to yarns. Well, I'll tell it some other time," and away he went after Sam, out into the hallway and down the broad stairs.

"If only they get there before that wagon passes!" sighed the senator's son.

"Maybe the driver won't have anything to sell. He may be sold out," came from Phil.

"Let us hope for the best," answered Dave, cheerfully. "He can't be sold out of everything. Even a loaf of bread and some sardines wouldn't go bad."

"Or some frankfurters," added Roger.

A few minutes passed, and Ben came up to the room, and the story of the adventure on the island and with Job Haskers had to be told again. Ben was as indignant as Sam and Shadow had been.

"I wouldn't stand for it!" he cried. "Why don't you report to Doctor Clay?"

"Because he is away," answered Dave. "But I may report to him to-morrow," he continued, thoughtfully.

A half-hour passed—to the hungry boys it seemed a long time—and then came a clatter of footsteps in the hallway. The door was banged open, and in came Sam and Shadow, followed by Gus Plum and Luke Watson, and each carrying a fair-sized bundle under his coat.

"We got there just in the nick of time!" panted Sam, for he was somewhat out of breath. "Fact is, I had to run after the wagon to stop it."

"And we got a dandy lot of stuff," continued Shadow. "Gus and Luke helped us to buy it."

"We are in for a spread to-night," explained Gus Plum. "But you fellows can eat all you wish right now."

The door was closed and locked, and one after another the bundles were opened. The boys who had done the purchasing had certainly "spread themselves," as Dave said. They had obtained some fresh rolls and cake, an apple and a pumpkin pie, some cheese, and some cold ham and tongue, a bottle of pickles, and five different kinds of crackers in boxes.

"This is certainly a spread and no mistake," said Dave, as he and Phil and Roger viewed the eatables with keen satisfaction.

"Chip Macklin has gone off to a farmer's house for two quarts of milk," said Shadow. "And I told him to bring some apples, too,—if he could get them."

"We'll have more than if we had been downstairs to supper," said the shipowner's son.

"Whatever is left will do for our spread later," explained Sam.

"Whatever is left," repeated Shadow. "Say, that puts me in mind of a story—and I'm going to tell this one," he added, as several of those present gave a groan. "A little boy was looking for his shoes. He found one and looked at it thoughtfully, and then said: 'I dess you is the right one, and your brovver is the left one, but you is the left one, and your brovver ain't left 'tall, 'cause he's gone.'" And the story produced a smile all around.

In a few minutes came a triple rap on the door—a well-known signal—and Sam opened the portal, to admit Chip Macklin. The small student carried two bottles of milk under his coat, and his pockets were bulging with apples and pears.

"Hurrah! Now we can have a square meal and no mistake!" cried Dave, as glasses were produced, and the milk was poured out. "Chip, we owe you one for this."

"You're welcome," answered the little lad, with a smile. He was glad to be of service, in return for all Dave had done for him in the past.

The eatables were spread out on a studying table, and Dave and his chums proceeded to "fill up," as Phil expressed it. They made a hearty meal, and yet, when they had finished, there was a considerable portion of the food left.

"We'll not touch the pies or the fruit," said Dave. "Those can be saved for the spread later."

The boys were just clearing away the crumbs of the meal when there came a hasty knock on the door.

"Who is there?" asked Roger, going to the door, but not opening it.

"It is I, Murphy," came in the husky tones of big Jim, the monitor. "If anything is going on in there, I want to warn you that Mr. Haskers is coming up—I heard him tell an under teacher."

"Thanks, Jim—we'll be ready for him," answered the senator's son, and passed out a pear and an apple, and then the kind-hearted monitor walked away again on his rounds.

The students worked hastily and noiselessly, and in less than three minutes the remainder of the food was stowed away in a closet out of sight, and everything about the dormitory was cleaned up. Then the lads got out their books and writing materials.

"Come in!" cried Dave, when a knock sounded sharply, and the door was opened, and Job Haskers presented himself. His face showed his disappointment at finding everything as it should be.

"Oh, Mr. Haskers, you are just in time!" cried Phil, innocently. "Will you kindly show me how to do this example in algebra?"

"And will you please show me how to translate this Latin?" asked Roger, catching his cue from Phil.

"And I've got a problem in geometry that is bothering me," said Dave, smoothly.

"I have no time for lessons now," answered the teacher, harshly. "I have other duties to perform. If you will attend to the explanations given in the classrooms you will need no extra aid," and thus delivering himself, Job Haskers backed out of the dormitory as speedily as he had entered it.

"Stung that time!" murmured Ben, as he closed the door once more. "I'll wager an apple against a peanut that he thought he would catch Dave, Roger, and Phil eating on the sly."

"Or off the table," added Sam, and then Ben shied a book at his head.

For over an hour the lads in the dormitory turned their attention to their lessons. During that time some other occupants of Nos. 11 and 12 came in, and all were informed of the spread to be given at midnight. To make things more lively, some boys from No. 10 were also asked to participate.

"Of course you are going to ask Nat Poole and Guy Frapley," said Roger, with a grin.

"Not on your collar-button!" replied Sam. "They can furnish their own spreads—they and the whole crowd with 'em."

"We want to look out that they don't get wise to what we are doing," said Plum. "It would be just like Nat to give us away, if he knew."

"If he did that he ought to have his head punched," murmured Luke.

"Say, Luke, give us a little music, before it gets past hours," suggested Dave, and willingly enough Luke got out a banjo, tuned up, and rendered several favorites. While the playing was going on, the door was left open, and a small crowd congregated in the hallway to listen, for Luke was really a skillful performer. All too soon the playing had to come to an end, as the time for "lights out" arrived.

It was exactly twelve o'clock when Sam arose from where he had been resting and made a light. At once the others also got up. All were dressed, and it did not take long to bring the eatables from the closet and push two studying tables together for a "banquet board," as Roger dubbed it. He and Dave and Phil were not particularly hungry, yet they entered with vim into the proceedings. The door between Nos. 11 and 12 was open, and those invited from No. 10 came in as silently as shadows.

Soon the feast was in full swing. The pies were large, and were cut into just enough pieces to go around. The fancy crackers were passed around in their boxes, and the apples and pears were placed on a tennis racket and handed around, "like an old-fashioned contribution box," according to Plum's way of describing it.

"We ought to have a speech!" cried Ben. "I move Dave Porter be called upon to speak."

"Second the motion!" cried several others.

"Give us something on 'How to Learn Without Studying,'" suggested Shadow.

"Or 'How to Do Algebra While You Sleep,'" said Ben.

"Or 'How to Make Haskers Reform,'" suggested Luke.

"Don't ask him to speak on the impossible," broke in Plum. "You'll never get Jobey to reform—it isn't in him."

"I'm too full to make a speech," said Dave, with a smile. "Besides, we don't want any noise up here, or we'll be spotted sure."

"I know what we ought to do!" cried Phil.

"What?" asked a chorus.

"Pay old Haskers back for the mean way he treated us. Can't we do something to him while he is asleep?"

"We sure can!" answered Roger. He looked at Dave. "What shall it be?"

Dave thought for a moment, and then a broad grin overspread his features.

"I wonder if we can manage it," he said, half to himself.

"Manage what, Dave?" asked several, eagerly.

"I think we can do it—if some of you fellows will furnish a stout line. Several fishing lines twisted together will do."

"But what do you intend to do, Dave?"

"Make Job Haskers think there is an earthquake,—that is, if he is in bed and asleep, and we can get into his room."

"Oh, he must be asleep by this time," said Sam.

"And here is a stout cord. I used it for flying my big kite," added Ben.

"Then, come on, and we'll give Job Haskers a surprise. But don't make any noise, or we may get caught."



CHAPTER XII

AN EARTHQUAKE FOR JOB HASKERS

The door to the hall was cautiously opened, and the boys looked out. The coast appeared to be clear, and Dave tiptoed his way out, followed by his chums. A faint light was burning, as required by the school regulations, and this kept the students from bumping into anything.

All knew the location of the apartment occupied by Job Haskers, and it did not take them long to reach the door to it. Here they paused to listen intently.

"He is in there and asleep," whispered Dave.

"Yes, and snoring," added Roger. "That shows he won't wake up very easily."

"We'll wake him up, don't fear—if my plan works," replied Dave, with grim humor.

With great caution the door was tried and found to be unlocked. Then, scarcely daring to breathe, Dave stepped into the apartment, with Roger and Phil behind him, clutching at his arms. The light in the hallway was near by, and Dave motioned for it to be turned up, so that he could see around the room.

Job Haskers's bed had been turned around for this term, so that the head was next to the wall beside the doorway. It was a new brass bedstead, ornamental but light.

With deft fingers, Dave doubled the cord provided by Ben, and tied one end to the head railing of the brass bedstead. The other end of the cord he carried to the doorway, and threw up through the transom, which swung upon side pivots.

"Good, I see your plan now!" murmured Phil. "I reckon we'll give him an awakening all right enough!"

As soon as the boys in the hallway had secured the outer end of the doubled cord, Dave stepped out of the room again, followed by Roger and Phil.

"Why not lock the door?" whispered the senator's son. "The key is here."

"Just what I intended to do," answered Dave, in an equally low voice.

The door was closed and locked, and the students all gathered in front of the portal, each with his hand on the cord.

"I wish we could dump him out of bed," muttered Plum.

"We'll give him a little quiver first," said Dave. "He won't know what to make of it. I don't think he'll notice the cord. It is just the color of the wall."

They pulled the cord taut, and then raised the head of the bed an inch or two. Then they let it drop.

"Oh—er—who is that?" they heard Job Haskers murmur. "Is it time to get up, Swingly?" He mentioned the name of the school janitor, who had orders to rouse him when he was over-sleeping.

Of course there was no answer to the teacher's question. He waited for a moment, and then turned over in bed, as if for another snooze.

"Now we'll give him a sharp jerk," whispered Dave, and the students caught hold of the cord with vigor. Up came the head of the bed about a foot and swayed violently towards the door.

"Hi! hi! What's this?" roared Job Haskers, sitting bolt upright, and gazing about in bewilderment.

"It's the end of the world!" came, in a hollow voice, through the keyhole. "The end of the world!"

"Mercy on me! It's an earthquake, that's what it is!" burst from the befuddled teacher, and then as the bed was jerked high in the air once more, he rolled over in the blankets and slid down to the lower end, where one foot got caught between the brass bars.

"Get out of the building, Mr. Haskers!" came a cry through the keyhole. "It is going to shake to the ground!"

"Yes! yes! It must be an earthquake!" groaned the bewildered pedagogue. "Oh, will I ever get out alive, I wonder!"

The top of the bedstead was bobbing up and down, like a ship on an angry ocean. In the darkness Job Haskers was completely bewildered, and he firmly believed that an earthquake had struck Oak Hall and that the building was in danger of collapsing. With a cry of fright he tumbled out on the floor, and threw the covers, in which he was wound up, aside. He tried to find the door, but the top of the bedstead was now in the way.

"The fire escape—it is the only way out!" he muttered to himself, and as the boys continued to jerk the bedstead around, he ran to the window and threw out a rope, fastened to a ring in the floor. Then out of the window he bounced and slid down the rope with a speed that blistered his hands.

"He has gone out of the window!" cried Roger, who had his eye glued to the keyhole. "Wait a minute, fellows!"

"Quick! We must take away the cord," said Dave, and in a trice the door of the bedroom was unlocked, the bed shoved into place, and the cord removed. Then the students scampered away, turning down the light as before.

Once on the ground Job Haskers lost no time in getting away from the building. Each instant he expected another quake that would bring that noble pile of bricks, stone, and mortar to the ground. But the quake did not come.

"Queer!" he murmured, presently. "Didn't anybody else feel that awful shock?"

"Hi, you, throw up your hands, or I'll fill ye full o' buckshot!"

The cry came from behind him, and it caused Job Haskers to leap with a new fear. He turned, and in the gloom of the night saw a man approaching with a gun pointed full at him.

"Don't—don't sho—shoot me!" he gasped.

"Up with yer hands!" came from the man. "I cotches ye that time, didn't I? Now, wot are ye, a ghost, a burglar, or a student on a lark?"

"Wh—who are yo—you?" stammered Job Haskers. "Did you—er—feel the earthquake?"

Instead of answering the questions, the man came closer, until the barrel of his shotgun was within a foot of the teacher's head. Then he gave a cry of astonishment.

"Why, if it ain't Mr. Haskers! Wot in the world are you a-doin' out this time o' night, sir?"

"Lemond!" faltered the teacher, as he recognized the driver for the Hall. "Did you—er—did you feel the earthquake?"

"Earthquake? No, sir."

"It is strange."

"Did you feel any of 'em, sir?" Horsehair had lowered his gun and was gazing fixedly at the teacher. "Say, you ain't walking in your sleep, are ye?" he questioned, abruptly.

"No, no—I—er—I am sure I am not," stammered Job Haskers, yet in secret he pinched himself to make certain. "I was—er—in bed, and I thought I felt an earthquake—the bed swayed, and I heard a cry——" The teacher stopped suddenly. "Perhaps it was those rascally boys!" he cried, abruptly.

"Boys! Did they play a joke on yer? They wouldn't be above it, sir—they are as full of 'em this term as ever, sir. How did you git out o' the building—down that rope?"

"Ye-as. You see, the bed moved—or I thought it did—and blocked the doorway, and I——But never mind, Lemond, don't say anything about this. I'll go in." And the teacher started rapidly across the campus. He was, of course, in his bare feet, and was finding his pajamas anything but warm in this frosty fall air.

"You can't get in that way, 'less you have a key!" called out Horsehair.

"I have no key," and Job Haskers stopped abruptly.

"I can let ye in the back way."

"That will do. Come, let us hurry—I am getting cold."

The back door was gained, and Job Haskers entered and felt his way up the semi-dark stairs. As he reached the upper hallway he found himself confronted by Doctor Clay, who had come in rather late, and who had been on the point of retiring when certain strange sounds had disturbed him and caused him to start an investigation.

"Why, Mr. Haskers, where have you been?" asked the doctor in astonishment. "I heard a noise, but I did not know you were stirring."

"I—er—I imagined some of the students were skylarking," faltered the assistant.

"Did you catch anybody?"

"No, sir,—they were too slick for me."

"This skylarking after hours must cease. Have you any idea who they were?"

"Not—er—exactly. I had some trouble early in the evening with Porter, Lawrence, and Morr, and they may be the ones. If you please, I'll take a look in their room."

"Do so, and if anything is wrong, have them report to me in the morning," said Doctor Clay, and retired once more to his room.

Moving swiftly through the hallway, Job Haskers reached his own room and threw open the door. He made a light, and gazed around in great perplexity. Everything was in perfect order excepting the bedclothes, which were just as he had left them. He walked slowly to the window and drew in the rope that was used for a fire escape.

"Strange! Strange!" he murmured to himself, as he scratched his head. "I was sure the bed moved. Can I have been dreaming after all? I ate a rather heavy supper, and my digestion is not as good as it used to be."

He put on his slippers and donned a dressing gown, and thus arrayed sallied forth once more, this time in the direction of the dormitory occupied by Dave and his chums. He approached on tip-toe and opened the door quickly and noiselessly.

But the students had had ample time in which to get to bed, and every one was under covers and apparently sleeping soundly. To make sure they were not shamming, the teacher came in and gazed at one after another closely. Then, with a face that was a study, he left the dormitory again and walked slowly to his own room.

"Is he gone?" asked a voice in the dormitory, after a full minute of silence.

"Yes, Phil," answered Dave. "But don't make any noise—he may come back."

"Say, that was the richest joke yet!" chuckled Ben.

"How he must have looked, sliding down that rope in his pajamas!" exclaimed Sam.

"If I dared, I'd really send in a theme to-morrow on 'Earthquakes,'" piped up Polly Vane.

"Do it, Polly; I dare you!" cried Macklin.

"I will—if you'll let me sign your name to it," answered the girlish student, but at this Chip shook his head vigorously.

"I'll bet old Haskers is as mad as a hornet," was Phil's comment. "Well, it served him right, for the way he treated us," he added.

"I guess we needn't go to the doctor to-morrow with any complaint," said the senator's son. "We have squared up."

"I'd like to know what Haskers really thinks of the shaking up," said Dave. And then he turned over to go to sleep, and the others did likewise.

The feast and the fun had tired the boys out, and the majority of them slept soundly until the rising bell rang out. Dave was the first to kick the covers aside and get up, but Ben followed immediately.

"Grand day, Dave!" cried Ben, running to the window to gaze out. "What a fine day to go nutting, if we could get away."

"Nothing but lessons to-day, Ben," answered Dave. He was bending down, looking under the bed. "Has anybody seen my shoes?" he continued, looking from one to another.

"I haven't seen them," answered Roger. He bent down to get out his own foot coverings. "Hello, my shoes are gone, too!" he cried.

"So are mine!" exclaimed Plum.

"And mine!" came quickly from several of the other boys.

"Did anybody put them in the closets?" asked Dave.

"If they did, they are not here now," answered Ben, who had entered one of the closets to look.

A hasty search was made, the boys looking into every place they could think of,—but all to no purpose. Every shoe, every boot, and every slipper belonging to them had disappeared.



CHAPTER XIII

IN WHICH SOME SHOES ARE MISSING

"What do you think of it?"

"Who took them?"

"We can't go downstairs in our bare feet."

Such were some of the remarks made, as the lads of dormitories Nos. 11 and 12 looked at each other. The closets had been searched thoroughly but without success.

"See here, if anybody in these rooms hid those shoes, I want to know it!" demanded Sam, gazing around sharply.

"I hardly think a fellow would hide his own shoes, too," answered Luke.

"He might,—just to hide his own guilt."

"I believe this is the work of some outsider," declared Dave. "Most likely Nat Poole and his crowd."

"By Jove, Dave, I believe you are right!" exclaimed Phil. "It would be just like them to do it, if they got the chance."

"Did you say Nat Poole?" queried Shadow, scratching his head thoughtfully.

"I did. Most likely Nat heard of our feast, and it made him extra sore to think we were having a good time and he wasn't invited."

"That is true, and I guess——" Shadow stopped short, and a curious look crossed his face.

"What is it, Shadow? Do you know anything of this?" asked Roger.

"Why, I—er—that is, I had a dream last night," stammered the story-teller of the school. "Or, maybe it wasn't a dream after all," he went on, in confusion.

"See here, Shadow, have you been sleep-walking again, and did you make off with our shoes?" demanded Phil. He remembered only too well how poor Shadow was addicted to walking in his sleep, and how he had once walked off with a valuable collection of rare postage stamps belonging to Doctor Clay.

"I—I don't think so," stammered Shadow, and got as red as a beet. "But I had a queer dream. I forgot about it at first, but now it comes back to me. I somehow dreamed that somebody came into this room and bent over me while I was in bed, and then picked up something. I started to stop him—and then I went sound asleep again."

"Who was the person?" questioned Polly Vane.

"I don't know."

"See here, Shadow, I'll wager a new necktie that you walked off with our shoes!" declared Sam. "And if you did, please be kind enough to tell us where you put them."

"Oh, Sam! I really—I don't think I did!" stammered the sleep-walker, in much confusion.

"The feast must have been too much for you, and it set you to sleep-walking," said Roger. "Now just see if you can't remember where you went with the shoes."

"The whole bunch must have made quite a load—all one fellow could carry," said Luke.

"Yes, and he'd have to put them in a box or a sheet at that," added Plum.

"Try to think real hard," suggested Roger.

"If he did it, it is funny that he took his own shoes, too," remarked Dave.

Poor Shadow was so confused he did not know what to say or do. He sat on the edge of the bed the picture of despair.

"I—I thought I was all over sleep-walking," he murmured. "The doctor at home was treating me all summer."

"One thing is certain—we can't stay up here all morning," burst out the senator's son. "I'm going to borrow a pair of shoes somewhere."

"So am I," added Dave. "We'll hunt for the missing shoes later on."

"Say!" burst out Shadow, half desperately. "You—you won't tell Doctor Clay about this, will you?"

"Not if you did it without knowing it, Shadow," answered Dave, promptly.

"I won't say a word," answered Plum.

"I—I don't know if I did it or not," went on Shadow, his face as red as ever. "I didn't know I took those postage stamps and those class pins that time. But if I did take 'em,—and we don't find 'em—I'll buy new shoes for all hands, if it takes every dollar I can scrape up."

The boys donned their clothing and then went on a tour of some of the other dormitories. Thus several borrowed shoes, while the others had to be content with slippers and foot coverings usually worn on the athletic field.

"Not very elegant," remarked Phil, as he gazed at the slippers he had borrowed, "but 'any port in a storm,' as the sailors say. I hope we get our shoes back."

"So do I, Phil," returned Dave. "But if Shadow went off with them he may have gone a long distance. Remember, he carried those postage stamps away up the river, and used a rowboat to do it. Maybe he rowed off with our foot coverings."

"He doesn't act as if he was tired—and he would be tired if he went very far with the shoes. Why, we didn't get to sleep until about one o'clock or half-past."

"I know that. It certainly is a mystery."

With several of the boys appearing at breakfast wearing slippers the secret of what had happened could not very well be kept, and it soon was whispered around that NOS. 11 and 12 had been cleaned out of shoes, boots, and slippers during the night, and that Shadow was suspected of having walked again in his sleep. His chums tried to hush the matter up, yet enough was said to make the story-teller of the school thoroughly uncomfortable.

"I'd give ten dollars to locate those shoes!" said Shadow to Dave, later on.

"So would I," answered Dave. "We can make a hunt after school."

Half a dozen of the students joined in the search for the missing foot coverings, and the lads looked high and low, but without success.

"Only one place more that I know of," said Dave. "That is the old granary."

"I don't think they can be there, but we can look," said Shadow.

The old granary was a building located behind some of the carriage sheds. It had once held grain, but was now used for the storage of garden implements. The lads found the door unlocked, and pushing it open they entered and gazed around in the semi-darkness.

"I don't see much that looks like shoes," remarked Roger.

"I'll strike a light," said Dave, and did so. The match flared up, and as it did so, several uttered cries.

"There they are, over in the corner!"

"We have found them at last!"

"Light a lantern and see," said Phil, and a stable lantern was quickly procured and lit. Then the boys worked their way around a mower and a harrow and some other farming implements to where they had seen the shoes.

"Sold!"

"These are a lot of old stuff thrown away long ago!"

It was true—the shoes they had located were worn out and covered with mildew. Shadow kicked them savagely.

"What a sell—and just after I was sure we had found them," he muttered.

Heavy at heart the students left the granary and put away the lantern. They had exhausted their resources, and walked back to the school in a decidedly sober mood.

"Well, all I can offer is this:" said Shadow, at last. "Each of you buy new shoes and slippers, and turn the bills over to me—and I'll pay them as quickly as I can."

"Don't you bother about my shoes, Shadow," said Dave, kindly. "I can get others easily enough."

"So can I," added Roger and Phil.

"But I would like to really know whether you walked off with them in your sleep, or if this is some trick of our rivals," continued Dave.

"You don't want to know any more than I do," declared the sleep-walker.

There seemed no help for it, and the next day all the boys paid a visit to Oakdale and purchased new shoes. They did not bother with slippers or boots, thinking that sooner or later the missing foot coverings would turn up. The shoe dealer was all attention, for never before had he had such a rush of trade.

Dave, Phil, and Roger got fitted first, and with their purchases under their arms, they quitted the shoe shop and strolled up the main street of the town.

"There are some girls we know!" cried the senator's son, presently, and pointed across the way. Coming in their direction were Mary Feversham and Vera Rockwell, two girls who lived in that vicinity, and who had come to the lads' school entertainment the year before. Vera had a brother with whom the senator's son was well acquainted.

"Why, how do you do!" cried Mary, as the boys crossed the street and tipped their caps. "So you are all back at school, eh?"

"I thought you must be back," added Vera, giving all a warm smile.

"Yes, we are back," answered Dave. "How have you been since we saw you last?"

"Very well indeed," answered Vera. "And how did you like it on the ranch? We heard you had turned into regular cowboys."

"Hardly that," said Dave. "But we went in for bronco-busting, and rounding-up, and all that."

"Somebody said you had some trouble with cattle thieves," went on Vera.

"Oh, Vera, don't mention that!" cried Mary, and blushed a little.

"Why shouldn't we?" demanded the other girl. "I don't believe those stories, and I think Mr. Porter and his friends ought to know what is being said."

"What is being said?" repeated Roger.

"Yes."

"Who is talking about us?" demanded Phil.

"Mr. Merwell,—the young man who used to go to Oak Hall. He goes to Rockville Military Academy now."

"And what did he say?" questioned Dave.

"Oh, he said a great many things—not to me but to some girls I know. He said all of you had gotten mixed up with some cattle thieves, and had tried to get out of the trouble by blaming him, but that he and his father had made you stop talking about him."

"Well, if that doesn't take the cake!" exclaimed Phil. "Isn't that Merwell to a T?"

"The shoe was on the other foot," explained Roger. "Merwell was the one who was mixed up in the affair, and he and his father had to pay for a lot of horses that—well, disappeared. We exposed him, and that is what made him mad."

"Did Mr. Merwell steal some horses?" asked Vera, in alarm.

"Not exactly—according to his story," answered Dave. "He says he took them in fun. Then the regular cattle thieves took them from him—and let him have some money. He claimed that he was going to return the horses, but didn't get the chance."

"And he and his father had to pay for the horses in the end?"

"Yes,—they paid Mr. Endicott, the owner of the ranch at which we were stopping."

"Then I guess Link Merwell was guilty," said Mary. "And after this I don't want him to even speak to me—he or that friend of his, Mr. Nick Jasniff."

"You'll do well to steer clear of the pair," warned Roger.

"It is a shame that they are allowed to talk about you as they do," said Vera. "If they keep on, they will give you a very bad name."

"I don't believe folks in Rockville will believe much of what Jasniff says," said Phil. "They'll remember his evil-doings of the past."

"He and Merwell seem to have made themselves popular at the Academy," was Mary's reply. "How they have done it I don't know. But perhaps they have money, or else——"

The girl did not finish, for just then an automobile swung around the corner and came to a halt in front of a store near which the young people had halted. The automobile contained Merwell, Jasniff, and two other students of the Academy, all attired in the cadet uniforms of that institution.



CHAPTER XIV

WHAT THE GIRLS HAD TO TELL

One of the strange cadets was driving the automobile, and hardly had it come to a stop when Merwell and Jasniff bounded out on the sidewalk, directly in front of Dave and his friends.

"Why—er—hello!" stammered Jasniff, and then, recognizing the girls, he grinned broadly, and tipped his cap.

"How do you do?" said Merwell, to Mary and Vera, and at the same time ignoring Dave and his chums.

The two girls stared in astonishment, for they had not expected to see the very lads about whom they had been conversing. But they quickly recovered and turned their backs on the newcomers.

"What's the matter—don't you want to speak to me?" demanded Jasniff, a sickly look overspreading his face.

"I assuredly do not, Mr. Jasniff," answered Vera, stiffly.

"And I suppose you don't want to speak to me either," came sourly from Link Merwell.

"You are right, Mr. Merwell—I do not."

"After this you will please us best by not recognizing us," added Mary, coldly.

"Oh, I see how it is—these chaps have been filling you up with stories about us!" cried Merwell, roughly. "Well, if you want to believe them you can do it. I don't care!" And he turned on his heel and entered a nearby store.

"Some day you'll wish you hadn't made such friends of Porter & Company," said Jasniff, and he glared defiantly at Dave and his chums. "Maybe you'll find that they are not just what you thought they were," and having thus delivered himself, he, too, entered the store. In the meantime the automobile had gone on along the street to the post-office, where the two strange cadets went in to see about mail.

"Say, I think I'll lay for Merwell and Jasniff and——" began Phil, when a warning pinch on his arm from Dave caused him to break off.

There was an awkward pause, neither the boys nor the girls knowing exactly what to say or do.

"Well, we must be going," said Vera. "I promised to be home by dark."

"And I have some errands to do before I go back," added Mary. "So we'll say good-by."

"I hope we meet again," remarked Phil.

"Maybe we'll come to some of your football games," ventured Vera. "I did so enjoy some of those other games."

"We are not playing on the eleven this season," answered Dave. It gave him a little pang to make the admission.

"Oh, is that so!" Both of the girls gave the boys a studied look. "Well, we must be going." And then they hurried down the street, around a corner, and out of sight.

"Fellows, we ought to lay for those chaps!" cried Roger, as soon as the chums were alone.

"Just what I was going to suggest," broke in Phil.

"What good will it do?" asked Dave. "We can't make anything out of Merwell and Jasniff by talking, and we don't want to start a fight."

"I'd like to duck 'em in a mud pond!" muttered the shipowner's son. "It is what they deserve."

"They deserve tar and feathers!" was Roger's comment. "Why, in some places they'd be run out of town. How they ever got into Rockville Academy I can't understand."

"Money sometimes goes a great way," said Dave. "They may have literally bought their way in—that is, their parents may have done it for them."

The three students had passed to the other side of the street. Now they looked down the highway and saw the automobile go around a corner in the direction of Rockville. But the machine soon came to a halt again, although they did not know it.

"Well, I am going to lay them out for taking that boat, anyway," said the senator's son.

"Ditto here," added Phil.

"Physically or mentally?" queried Dave, with something of a smile.

"Both—if it's necessary," returned the shipowner's son, promptly. It was easy to see he was spoiling for a fight.

"I am going to see what they are doing," said Roger, after another minute had passed. "Maybe they won't come out until they think we have gone away."

He recrossed the street, and peered through one of the show windows of the store. Then, of a sudden, he made a rapid motion for his chums to join him.

"They are going out by a back way!" he cried. "The sneaks! They intend to give us the slip!"

"They shan't do it!" exclaimed Phil. "Come on!" And he set off on a run, with the others at his heels. They turned one corner and then another, and soon reached an alleyway between two houses located on a street behind the store. Here they plumped squarely into Merwell and Jasniff, each with a bundle under his arm.

"So this is the way you sneak away, eh?" demanded Phil.

"Sneak away!" blustered Merwell. "Not at all—we were only taking a short cut; ain't that so, Nick?"

"Sure," answered Jasniff, loudly. "We don't have to sneak away from anybody."

"We've a good mind to give you both a sound thrashing," cried Phil, angrily. "You had no business to touch our boat."

"And you had no business to talk about us to Miss Feversham and Miss Rockwell," added the senator's son.

"See here, you let us pass!" muttered Merwell. "Don't you dare to lay your fingers on us!" And he tried to edge to one side.

"See here, both of you," said Dave, sternly. "I want to give you a final warning. You have been talking about us; I know it, and it is useless for you to deny it. Now I want you to understand this: If you say another word against me, or against Phil or Roger, I'll see to it that you are exposed to every student at Rockville Academy."

"You won't dare!" cried Jasniff. His voice trembled a little as he spoke.

"I will dare, Nick Jasniff. I know what you are—and I know what Link Merwell is—and I don't propose to stand any more of your underhanded work. Now you have your last warning,—and if you are wise you'll heed it."

"Say, do you want to fight?" roared Jasniff, coming forward, and sticking his chin close to Dave's face.

"I can defend myself, Jasniff,—even when a fellow tried to take a foul advantage of me, as you did that time in the gym."

"Bah! Always ringing that in. I only swung the Indian club to scare you. I can fight with my fists."

"Well, remember what I said, Jasniff. It's my last warning."

"Oh, come on—they make me sick!" cried Link Merwell, a certain nervous tremor in his voice. "We don't want to listen to their hot air!" And plucking his crony by the arm he hurried out of the alleyway into the street.

"Shall we let 'em go, Dave?" whispered Phil. "I'd just as soon pound 'em good."

"If we did that, Phil, they'd claim we were three to two and took an unfair advantage of them. Let them go. They have their final warning, and if they don't heed it—well, they will have to take the consequences."

"I could hardly keep my hands off of Merwell."

"I felt the same way," said Roger. "He deserves all we could give him."

The three chums watched Merwell and Jasniff turn another corner. They expected to see the pair walk to where the automobile was standing, but instead noted that the two cadets entered the Oakdale Hotel.

"Must be going to see somebody," suggested Phil.

"Or else they have gone in to smoke and drink and play pool," added Roger. "You'll remember Merwell liked to drink. He was the one who did his best to lead Gus Plum astray."

"Yes, I remember that," answered Dave. "I am mighty glad Gus and he are keeping apart."

The three students walked past the hotel, and looking in at an open window, saw Jasniff and Merwell talking to a man who sat in the reading room with a newspaper in his hands.

"Why, that is that Hooker Montgomery!" exclaimed Roger. "The fake doctor who sells those patent medicines."

"We'd better not let him see us, or he'll be wanting a new silk hat from us," murmured Phil. And he grinned as he thought of what had occurred on the road on the day of their arrival at Oak Hall.

"I wonder if Jasniff met him at Dunn's on the river?" said Dave. "That is what the letter requested, you'll remember."

"Wonder what business Jasniff was to aid him in?" queried the shipowner's son.

"Maybe Jasniff is going to help him to dispose of some of his marvelous remedies," suggested Roger. "I reckon he could give the ignorant farmers as good a talk about them as Montgomery himself."

"More than likely, since Montgomery is a very ignorant man," answered Dave.

"The other fellows ought to be ready to go back to school by this time," said the senator's son, after watching those in the hotel for a minute. "Let us hunt them up;" and thus, for the time being, Jasniff, Merwell, and Doctor Montgomery were dismissed from their minds. The meeting at the hotel was an important one to our friends as well as to those who participated, but how important Dave and his chums did not learn until long afterwards.

It was a comical sight to see the boys of dormitories Nos. 11 and 12 walking back to the Hall, each with a shoe box under his arm. Sam Day led the procession, carrying his box up against his forearm, like a sword.

"Shoulder boxes!" he shouted, gayly. "Forward march!" And then he added: "Boom! boom! boom, boom, boom!" in imitation of a bass-drum.

"We've got boxes enough to last us for a year of picnics," cried Ben, for in Crumville, as in many other places, shoe boxes were frequently used for packing up picnic lunches.

"Say, that puts me in mind of a story!" put in Shadow, eagerly. "A girl who was going to get married had a shower, as they call 'em. Well, a wag of the town—maybe he was sore because he couldn't marry the girl himself—told all his friends, in private, that she was very anxious to get a nice bread-box. The shower was to be a surprise, and it was, too, for when it came off the girl got exactly eleven bread-boxes."

"Oh!" came in a groan. "The worst yet."

"Not so bad," said Dave, dryly. "If she filled the boxes the married pair must have proved a well-bred couple."

"Hark to that!" roared Phil. "Say, Dave, go and take a roll!"

"When it comes to a joke, Dave is the flower of this flock," was Luke's comment.

"Anyway, he takes the cake," murmured Ben.

"Ben, say something; don't loaf on the job," came from the senator's son.

"A joke like that is pie for Roger," murmured Polly Vane.

"Even so, nobody has a right to get crusty," murmured Plum.

"Or pious!" continued Dave, and then Shadow made a pass for him with a shoe box. Then Roger started to run, and the others came after him, and away they went in a merry bunch, along the road leading to Oak Hall. Soon they came out at a point where the highway ran along the Leming River, and there halted to rest, for the run had deprived some of them of their wind.

"I hear a motor-boat," said Roger. "Wonder if it is Nat Poole's craft?"

"It is!" answered Plum. "Here he comes, right close to shore!"

The river was a good fifteen feet below the level of the roadway, and gazing down through the bushes lining the water's edge, the students beheld Nat Poole's motor-boat gliding along in a zig-zag fashion. Nat was not in the craft, which was evidently running without an occupant.



CHAPTER XV

A RUNAWAY MOTOR-BOAT

"What do you make of that?"

"The motor-boat must have run away from Nat!"

"Either that or Nat has fallen overboard!"

"Maybe Nat has been drowned!"

These and other remarks were made, as the boys on the highway gazed down at the craft that was speeding along in such an erratic fashion over the surface of the river. A closer look confirmed their first opinion, that nobody was on board.

"I'm going to try to stop her!" shouted Dave, and ran back along the highway, and disappeared into the bushes. Roger followed him closely, and some of the others trailed behind.

"I am going up the river—to see if I can find Nat!" shouted Phil, and away he sped, and Sam and Ben went along.

It was no easy matter for Dave to work his way down the bank of the stream. The bushes were thick and the footing uncertain, and once his jacket caught on a root and he had to pause to free himself. But at last he came out on a narrow strip of rocks and sand, at a point where the Leming River made a broad turn.

The water at this point was quite shallow, and here he thought the progress of the motor-boat would be stayed. His surmise was correct, the craft bringing up between several smooth rocks. The engine continued to work, pounding the boat back and forth, and threatening to sink her.

Fortunately, Dave had on a pair of gaiters he had borrowed, and they were so big that he slipped them off with ease. His socks followed, and then he rolled up his trousers to his knees, and waded into the stream.

"Be careful, or you'll slip and hurt yourself on the rocks!" sang out the senator's son.

"I'm watching out!" returned Dave.

He was leaping from one smooth stone to another, keeping in the shallow spots as much as possible. Thus he managed to get within a few yards of the motor-boat.

As he came closer he saw that the craft was pounding on the rocks worse than before. The pounding had in some way moved the gasoline control forward and also advanced the spark, and the engine was practically running "wild."

"I hope she isn't getting ready to blow up!" thought the youth, and he gazed anxiously ahead. Smoke was issuing from the motor-boat, coming from some over-heated oil.

He leaped to the next high rock, and then plunged boldly forward, soon gaining the bow of the craft. At the stern the propeller was churning the water into a white foam. The craft was trembling violently, and the hum of the machinery gave full evidence of the power it was exerting.

Fortunately, Dave's knowledge of gasoline engines now stood him in good stead, and without the loss of a second he turned off the supply of gasoline and the electric spark, and thus allowed the engine to "die." As the propeller slowed up and stopped, the water behind the craft calmed down, and then the pounding on the rocks was reduced to a gentle rub that did little but scratch the paint.

"Is she all right, Dave?" called out Roger, who stood on the rocks of the bank watching proceedings with great interest.

"I think so, although it hasn't done the engine any good to run wild. She's pretty well heated up, and the cylinders may be carbonized, or something like that."

"What are you going to do—try to run her in here?"

"No, I'll not take the risk. I only wanted to stop the engine and get rid of the risk of the boat blowing up."

"You ran a big risk doing it. She looked to me as if she might go up any instant."

"She can't get out of here—the current holds her," went on Dave. "She will be perfectly safe until Nat comes for her. I'd like to know where he is."

"Phil and some of the others went off to see."

To save the boat as much as possible, Dave took two of the wooden gratings of the flooring and tied them to ropes hanging over the sides. In this position they acted as fenders, so that the rocks rubbed against the gratings instead of the boat proper.

"I am afraid he'll have quite a job of it, getting her out into the stream," said Dave, on coming ashore, and when he was putting on his socks and the gaiters. "She'll have to back out against the current and do a lot of turning."

"Maybe he'll have to get somebody to tow him out,—with a very long line," returned Roger.

"If only Nat didn't fall overboard," said Dave.

In the meantime, Phil and some of the others had run up the stream a distance. As they turned a point where there were several small islands the shipowner's son set up a shout.

"There is Nat now!"

"Whatever is he doing?" queried Ben.

"Swimming ashore, or trying to wade," answered Sam.

The boys on the shore came down to the water's edge and watched Nat Poole with interest. He was floundering around in water up to his waist. Sometimes he would come up on a rock, and then slip and pitch headlong. But he kept on, until he was but a few yards away.

"Hi, Nat! what's the matter?" called out Phil. "Did you fall overboard?"

"Hel—help me!" chattered the unfortunate one, and now the others realized that he was suffering greatly from the cold. "Don—don't let m—me—g-g-g—go down!"

"We'll help you!" answered Phil, promptly, and ran out on some dry rocks to a point close to poor Nat. "Come, give me your hand and I'll pull you up."

"So will I," added Ben, who had come behind the shipowner's son.

The suffering youth was only too glad to have somebody come to his aid, and he put up both hands, and those on the rocks hauled him up and then aided him to get to a safe spot on shore. He was shivering from head to feet, and his teeth chattered so that he could hardly speak.

"I wa—want t-t-to get where it is wa-wa-warm!" chattered Nat. "That wa—water is li—like i-i-i-ice!"

"Take off your wet coat," said Phil, kindly. "Here, you can have mine. I've got a sweater on." And he passed over the garment.

Nat was glad enough to don something dry, and the exchange was quickly made.

"If you'll take my advice, you'll make a run of it to the nearest farmhouse and warm up," said Ben. "If you don't you may take your death of cold."

"I—I wi—will," answered Nat.

"I'll go with you. There is a farmhouse just down the road a bit."

"We'll go back to where we left Dave and the others," said Phil. "They were after your boat," he explained.

"Did th—they st—stop h-h-her?"

"I don't know. We saw her, in the river, running wild. How did it happen?"

"I was fi—fixing the rudder li—line at the st—st—stern when all of a su—sudden we hit a r—r—rock or something and I we—went overboard," answered Nat. "Before I co-could g-g-get back the b-b-boat got away from m-m-me."

"Dave and some others went after the boat. We saw it running by itself, among the rocks."

Nat was too cold to pay attention just then to what had become of his property. He ran as fast as he could to the farmhouse, and there was taken in and allowed to dry himself in front of the fire, and was given a cup of hot tea. In the meantime Phil rejoined Dave and Roger, and told how the money-lender's son had been found.

It was after the supper-hour when all of the boys got back to Oak Hall, and Job Haskers was on the point of reading them a lecture and forcing them to do without supper when Doctor Clay appeared. To the master of the school the lads related their story, and he at once excused them for their tardiness, and told them to go directly to the dining-room, while he ordered Lemond to get out the school coach and go after Nat.

"Poole can be glad he was not drowned," said the doctor. "It was nice of you to stop the engine of his boat. But after this I want all of you to be more careful. I do not want to lose any of my boys!" And the look he gave them went to the heart of every lad present.

"What a difference between him and old Haskers!" murmured Phil.

"I'd give as much as a dollar to have Haskers leave," added Sam.

"I reckon every fellow in the school would chip in a dollar for that," was Plum's comment.

When Nat got in he was sent at once to his room, to change all of his clothes, and was then given a hot supper, which made him feel quite like himself. Later on he questioned Dave about the motor-boat, and said he would try to get the craft from among the rocks the next day, hiring a professional boatman to assist him. He did not thank Dave for his aid, nor did he thank Phil and the others.

"I guess it isn't in him to thank anybody," was Ben's comment. "Nat is one of the kind who thinks only of himself."

"He will have a hard time of it, getting his boat," said Dave, and so it proved. It took half a day to get the craft from among the rocks, and then it was found that she leaked so badly she had to be sent to a boat-builder for repairs.

That Saturday was the day scheduled for the football game with Lemington. As Nat could not take the eleven to that town in his motor-boat, as promised, the school carryall was pressed into service. This made some of the other students, who had arranged to go in the carryall, find other means of conveyance, and there was considerable grumbling.

"Poole said he would take 'em in the motor-boat," growled one student. "He ought to have seen to it that his boat was repaired on time."

The Old Guard football eleven all had bicycles or motor-cycles, and they went to the Lemington Athletic Grounds in a body on their wheels. All carried the school colors, and many also had horns and rattles.

"We'll show 'em that we can root for Oak Hall even if we are not on the eleven!" declared Dave.

Job Haskers took but little interest in athletics, declaring he thought too much time was wasted over field sports, but Andrew Dale was keenly alive to what was going on. He knew all about the trouble in the football organization, and he watched the departure of Dave and his chums with interest.

"Aren't you going, Mr. Dale?" asked Dave.

"Oh, yes, I am going in the carriage with Doctor Clay. Do you think we shall win, Porter?"

"We'll win if rooting can do it!" cried Dave.

"Then you intend to 'root,' as you call it?"

"Yes, sir—we are going to root for all we are worth."

"I am glad to know it," answered Andrew Dale; and then he turned away to attend to some school duties. Later on, when he and the doctor were on the way to the game, he mentioned the trouble in the football club, and told how Dave and his chums had been left out in the cold, and how Dave and the others were now going to cheer for and encourage the school eleven.

"Fine! Grand!" murmured the master of the school, his eye lighting up with pleasure. "That is the proper school spirit! It does Porter, Morr, and the others great credit."

"Exactly what I think, Doctor," answered the first assistant. "Many players would have remained away altogether, or gone to the game to throw cold water on the efforts of those on the gridiron. It shows a manliness that cannot be excelled."

"Yes! yes!" murmured Doctor Clay. "A fine lot of boys, truly! A fine lot! It seems a pity they were forced off the team."

"Perhaps they'll be back—before the football season is over," answered Andrew Dale, gravely.

"What do you mean, Dale?"

"Perhaps the football eleven will need them and be glad to get them back."



CHAPTER XVI

A STRUGGLE ON THE GRIDIRON

When Dave and his chums reached the athletic grounds they found the grandstand and the bleachers about half filled with people. The Lemington contingent had a good number of rooters, and they were already filling the air with their cries of encouragement. The boys looked around, but saw nothing of Vera Rockwell or Mary Feversham.

"Maybe they didn't think it worth while to come," suggested the senator's son.

"No Rockville fellows here, either," said Phil. "They play an eleven from Elmwood this afternoon."

The Lemington players were already on the field, and it was seen that they were rather light in weight, only the full-back being of good size.

"Our eleven has the advantage in weight," said Roger. "But I rather fancy those fellows are swift."

"Yes, and they may be tricky," added Ben.

As soon as Dave and his chums were seated, Dave gave the signal, and the Oak Hall cheer was given. Then followed another cheer for the school eleven, with a tooting of horns and a clacking of wooden rattles.

"Mercy! but those Oak Hall students can make a noise!" exclaimed one girl, sitting close by.

"That is what they call 'rooting'!" answered her friend. "Isn't it lovely!"

"Perfectly delicious! They ought to win, if they shout like that!"

Guy Frapley heard the racket, and walked over to the spot from whence it proceeded. He was astonished beyond measure to see Dave leading off, yelling at the top of his lungs, and waving a rattle in one hand and the school colors in the other.

"What do you think of that?" he asked, of Nat Poole.

"Oh, Porter and his crowd want to make out they don't feel stung over being out of it," grumbled Nat.

"But they are rooting harder than anybody."

"They'll be glad to see us lose."

"We are not going to lose."

"I didn't say we were," answered Nat, and walked away. Somehow, it made him angry to see Dave and his chums cheering, and in such an earnest manner. He would have been better satisfied had Dave acted grouchy or stayed away from the game.

The game was to be of two halves, of thirty minutes each, with ten minutes intermission. Oak Hall won the toss-up, and as there was no wind and no choice of goals, they kept the ball, and Lemington took the south end of the gridiron.

"Now, then, here is where Oak Hall wins!" cried Dave, loudly. "Do your level best, fellows!"

"Shove her over the line, first thing!" added Roger.

"Oak Hall! Oak Hall!" yelled Phil. "Now then, all together in the game!"

Under the inspiration of the cheering, Oak Hall made a fine kick-off, and by some spirited work carried the pigskin well down into the Lemington territory. But then the ball was lost by Nat Poole, and the opposing eleven brought it back to the center of the gridiron, and then rushed it up to the thirty-yard line of the school.

"That's the way to do it!" yelled a Lemington supporter. "You've got 'em going!"

"Send it back!" yelled Dave. "All together, for Oak Hall!" And this cry was taken up by a hundred throats.

Guy Frapley got the ball, a minute later, and made a really fine run around the Lemington left end. This brought the pigskin again to center, and there it remained for nearly five minutes, the downs on both sides availing little or nothing. A scrimmage followed, in which one Lemington player was injured, and he accused one of the Oak Hall fellows, a new player named Bemis, of foul play. This protest was sustained, and Bemis was retired and another new player named Cardell was substituted.

"Five minutes more!" was the cry, and again both elevens went at it. Dave suddenly saw the captain of the Lemingtons make a certain sign to some of his men.

"They are up to some trick!" he cried to his chums, and hardly had he spoken when the ball went into play, through center and across to the left end. It was picked up like a flash, passed to the quarter-back, who was on the watch for it, and carried toward the Oak Hall line with a rush.