Fred, who had heard the racket, came running upstairs and found Teddy standing aghast at the mischief he had caused. The older brother took in the situation at a glance.

"Quick," he urged, "get out of the window. They'll be up in a minute."

The kitchen extension was just under the window of the room. Teddy lifted the screen and dropped to the roof. From there it was only twelve feet to the ground and he made the drop in safety. No one saw him but Martha, and that faithful soul could be depended on to keep silent.

Mr. Mansfield Rushton had already left for the city, but Mrs. Rushton and Uncle Aaron came hurrying up the stairs. The former was in a flurry of excitement, which increased materially when she looked into Uncle Aaron's room and saw the awful wreck that had been made of it.

"Oh, whatever in the world has happened now?" she gasped.

As for Aaron, he could hardly speak at all. He was speechless with rage, as he picked up his clothes and handled them gingerly.

"Spoiled, utterly spoiled," he spluttered. Then, he caught sight of Bunk in one corner of the hall.

"It's that confounded cat," he shouted, as he made a kick at him that missed him by a hair. "He got tangled up in the fly paper and carried it all over the room."

But just then he saw the bit of meat that had tempted the unwary Bunk. He picked it up and looked hard at it.

"Um-hum," he muttered, and the steely look came into his eyes.

He turned sharply on Fred.

"Where's Teddy?" he asked.

"He doesn't seem to be around here anywhere," replied Fred. "I'll see if I can find him downstairs."

And he went down with alacrity, but carefully refrained from coming up again. He remembered that he must see Bob Ellis at once. He opened the front door and passed swiftly round the corner.

"He'll find him," growled Aaron bitterly. "Oh, yes, he'll find him! You won't see either of those boys till lunch time.

"I tell you, Agnes," he went on fiercely, "one of those young scamps is just as bad as the other. Teddy starts the mischief and Fred does all he can to shield him."

"You don't know yet that Teddy had anything to do with it," protested Mrs. Rushton, in a tone which she tried to make confident, but with only partial success.

"No, of course not," he answered sarcastically, "he's never to blame for anything. All the same I'll bet my life that he and nobody else is at the bottom of this. How did this meat get up here, if somebody didn't bring it?"

"Perhaps the cat brought it up," suggested Mrs. Rushton desperately. Then, feeling the weakness of her position, she went on hurriedly:

"But now, I must get busy and clear up this awful mess. Give me those clothes, and Martha and I will fix them up right away."

But though the damage to the clothes was soon repaired, storm clouds were still hovering over the household when Teddy came in to lunch.

He loafed in with an elaborate pretense of unconcern. Nothing was said at first, and he was beginning to hope when Uncle Aaron suddenly blurted out:

"What's the matter with your hand?"

Though startled, Teddy lifted up his left hand.

"Why, I don't see that anything's the matter with it," he replied, holding it out for examination.

"I mean the one you're hiding under the table," went on Aaron stonily.

"Oh, that one?" stammered Teddy. "Why, it's scratched," he added brightly, as he studied it with an expression of innocent surprise.

There was a dead silence. Teddy, not caring to look anywhere else, kept gazing at his hand, as though it were the most fascinating object in the world.

"Oh, Teddy!" moaned his mother.

And then Teddy knew that the game was up.

"Honestly, Mother," he stammered, "I didn't mean to—that is I meant to make the cat jump on the fly-paper, but I didn't think he'd——"

Here was Uncle Aaron's cue.

"Didn't think!" he stormed. "Didn't think! If you were my boy——" And here he launched into a tongue lashing that outdid all his previous efforts. It seemed to Teddy an age before he could escape from the table, carrying away with him the echo of Uncle Aaron's final threat to have it out with his father when he came home that night.

It was the last straw. Mr. Rushton's indecision vanished at the recital of Teddy's latest prank. Before he slept that night he had written to Dr. Hardach Rally, asking for his catalogue and terms, intimating that if these proved satisfactory, he would send his two boys to Rally Hall.



CHAPTER XI

THE ROBBERY

The answer came back promptly.

In addition to the catalogue and pictures of the Hall and grounds, Dr. Rally wrote a personal letter. It was in a stiff, precise handwriting that seemed to indicate the character of the man.

He would be very glad to take the Rushton boys under his care. He thought he was not exaggerating when he said that the standard of scholarship at Rally Hall was not exceeded by any institution of a similar kind in the entire state. Their staff of instructors was adequate, and their appliances were strictly up to date. There was a good gymnasium, and the physical needs of the boys were looked after with the same care as their mental and moral requirements.

But what he laid especial stress upon was the discipline. This came under his own personal supervision, and he thought he could promise Mr. Rushton that there would be no weakness or compromise in this important particular.

"That's the stuff!" broke in Uncle Aaron, gleefully rubbing his hands. "What did I tell you? Hardach Rally is the one to make boys mind."

Fred and Teddy failed to share his enthusiasm, and Mrs. Rushton shivered slightly.

But, taken as a whole, the letter met the views of Mr. Mansfield Rushton, and when the family council broke up, it was definitely settled that the boys should go to Rally Hall.

Old Martha was "dead sot," as she put it, against the whole plan.

"Ain' no good goin' to kum uv it," she grumbled to herself, as she jammed her hands viciously into the dough. "House'll seem like a graveyard wen dose po' boys get shunted off ter dat ole bo'din' school. Like enuf dey won't giv' um half enuf ter eat. An' all on 'count uv dat ole w'ited sepulker," she wound up disgustedly.

But Uncle Aaron, wholly indifferent to Martha's views even if he had known them, was in high feather. He had carried his point, and, in the satisfaction this gave him, he became almost good-natured. He could even allow himself a wintry smile at times, as he reflected that the boys—the "pests," as he called them to himself—were to get a taste of the discipline that their souls needed.

"He'll show them what's what," he chuckled. "He'll either bend 'em or break 'em. I know Hardach Rally."

As for Fred and Teddy themselves, they hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry.

They loved their home and their parents, and then, too, they hated to leave their boy friends with whom they had grown up in the home town.

But, on the other hand, there was the attraction of new sights and places and all the adventures that might come to them. It was another world into which they were going, and it was not in boy nature that they should not be thrilled by the prospect of "fresh fields and pastures new."

But before the time came for their departure, Oldtown had a sensation that turned it topsy-turvy.

The village store was robbed!

The first thing the boys knew about it was when they heard a whistle under their windows that they recognized as that of Jack Youmans. They stuck sleepy heads out to see what had brought him there at that early hour.

"Hurry up, fellows!" he cried excitedly. "Get your clothes on and come down. There's something doing."

"What is it?" they asked in chorus.

"Never you mind," answered Jack, swelling with a sense of his importance. "You get a move on and come down."

They slipped into their clothes and in less than three minutes were down beside him. He made them beg a little before he finally gave up his secret.

"The store was robbed last night," he said importantly.

"The store!" exclaimed the boys. There was no need of specifying, as there was only one store in Oldtown of any importance.

"How did it happen?" asked Fred.

"Did they get much?" questioned Teddy.

"They don't know yet," replied Jack to both questions. "A fellow came past our house a little while ago, and he called to my dad, who was working in the garden, that when Cy Briggs went to open up, he found that the front door was already open and everything inside was all scattered about. He can't tell yet just how much was stolen, but the safe was broken into and everything in it was cleaned out. Cy is awful excited about it, and they say he's running around like a hen with her head cut off. Get a wiggle on now, and let's get down there."

The boys could not remember when anything like a robbery had happened before in the sleepy little town, and they were all afire with excitement.

The family was not up yet, but the boys did not wait for breakfast in their eagerness to be on the scene of the robbery.

A hasty raid on Martha's pantry gave each of them enough for a cold bite, and, eating as they went along, and running most of the way, they were soon in front of the village store.

The news had traveled fast, and there was an eager crowd already gathered. All sorts of rumors were about, and in the absence of any real news as to the robbers, one guess was as good as another.

The only thing about which there was no doubt at all was that the robbery had occurred. The open safe and tumbled goods were sufficient proofs of that. Cy Briggs, who had run the store for forty years, and had never had a robbery or fire or anything to disturb the regular order of things, was so flustered that he had not yet been able to find out the extent of his loss.

One or two of the cooler heads were going over the stock with him, while the others clustered on the broad porch in front and waited for developments, keeping up a constant buzz of questions and conjectures.

No one had heard any unusual noise the night before. The village constable, who constituted the entire police force of Oldtown, had made his usual round about ten o'clock, and, as a matter of form, had tried the door. But it had been securely fastened as usual, and there had been nothing to rouse his suspicion. Apart from two or three traveling men who had come in with Jed Muggs, and were now staying at the one hotel, nobody had seen any outsiders.

The whole thing was a mystery, and this was increased by the discovery that while the door had been found open, showing that the thieves had come out that way, they must have found some other means of entrance. The door had been fastened by a bolt, which Cy had pushed into the socket the last thing before leaving. This had not been broken, as it would have been, if the robbers had forced their way in from the front. Cy himself had gone out of a back door, which he had locked, carrying the key away with him, and this door was found still locked when he came that morning to open up.

"Well, Cy, how about it?" was the question from a dozen voices, as the old storekeeper, grizzled and flushed, came out on the porch. "How much did you lose?"

"Don't know yet," Cy answered, wiping his forehead with a huge bandana handkerchief, "but I reckon it'll figger up to close on three or four hundred dollars' wuth."

A hum of excitement rose from the crowd. To the boys especially, this seemed an enormous amount of money.

"That's a right smart sum, Cy," remarked a sympathetic listener. "What was it they got away with?"

"Money, mostly," mourned Cy. "The goods in the store wasn't bothered much. Reckon they was lookin' only for cash. Then, too, they've cleaned out a co'sid'able of jewelry and watches. Some of 'em I was gettin' ready to send away to the city to be repaired, and others had come back mended, but the customers hadn't called for 'em yet."

Catching sight at that moment of Fred in the crowd, he added: "One of them watches was your Uncle Aaron's. It was a vallyble one and I feel wuss over that than almost anything else. I know he set a heap of store by it."

"Uncle Aaron's watch!" gasped the boys.

It was a knock-down blow for them, especially for Teddy. Was he never to get away from that miserable runaway? If it had not been for that, the watch would not have been injured, and at this very moment it might have been reposing in his uncle's capacious pocket. Now the "fat was in the fire" again. The chances were that the watch would never be seen again by the rightful owner.

"I'm the hoodoo kid, all right!" he groaned.

"It sure is hard luck," sympathized Jack.

"Brace up, Teddy," urged Jim. "They may catch the fellows yet."

"Swell chance!" retorted Teddy to their well-meant sympathy. "Even if they do, they won't get the watch back. Those fellows will make a beeline to the nearest pawnshop, and that'll be the end of it."

"I wish we could have caught them at it," said Fred savagely. "If they'd only been working when we came past last night."

"What time last night?" asked Cy, pricking up his ears.

"About eleven o'clock, I guess," answered Fred. "Teddy and I had been over to Tom Barrett's house. He's just got a new phonograph, and we went over to hear him try it out. He had a lot of records, and it was pretty late when we came away."

"And yer didn't see anything out of the way when you come past?" went on Cy.

"Not a thing. We didn't meet a soul on the way home."

Just then there was a stir inside the store, and the constable, Hi Vickers, came to the door.

"Come here a minute, Cy," he said. "I bet I've found out how those fellers got into the store."

As many as could crowded in after him as he led the way to a little side window.

"They got in here," he said triumphantly.

"But that's locked," said Cy.

"Sure it is," explained Hi, "but they could have locked it again after they got in, couldn't they? One thing certain, they've unlocked it first from the outside. See here," and the constable showed where the blade of a heavy knife had left marks on the frame. It had evidently been thrust between the two halves of the window to push back the fastening.

"There you are," he said. "You see, they clum that apple tree right alongside the winder and——"

"Say!" broke in Fred, as a thought came to him like a flash of lightning, "I bet I know who the robbers were."

All eyes were turned on him in surprise.

"It was two tramps that I saw round here a few days ago," continued Fred. "A lot of us fellows were in Sam Perkins' barn, and we heard the tramps talking. They didn't see us, but we saw them. We couldn't hear all they said, but I did hear them say something about an 'apple tree' and 'side window' and something being 'dead easy.' I'd forgotten all about it till just now. But there's the apple tree and the side window, and that must have been what they were talking about."

"By gum, it wuz!" assented Hi. "Tell us what the fellers looked like."

"One of them was a good deal taller than the other," said Fred, trying to recall their appearance. "They were both ragged and dirty. And, oh, yes! the tall one had a scar up near his temple, as if he had been stabbed there some time."

"Well," commented Hi, "that may help a lot. We know now what we've got to look for. I'll telephone all along the line to the other towns to be on the lookout for them, and some of us will hitch up and drive along the different roads. They can't have got very far, and we may get 'em yet."

Later on, as the boys were on their way home, Jim chuckled.

"What are you laughing about, Jim?" asked Bob.

"I was just thinking," Jim replied, "that it was mighty lucky they didn't ask Fred how he happened to be in Sam Perkins' barn."



CHAPTER XII

OFF FOR RALLY HALL

As Teddy had clearly foreseen, all that had happened before was as nothing, when Uncle Aaron learned that his cherished watch was gone, probably forever.

He stormed and raged and wondered aloud what he had done that he should be saddled with such a graceless nephew. It was in vain that Mr. Rushton offered to make good the money loss.

"It isn't a matter of money," he shouted. "I've had that watch so long that it had come to be to me like a living thing. I wouldn't have taken a dozen watches in exchange for it. Big fool that I was ever to come to Oldtown."

All the amateur detective methods of the village constable ended in nothing. And as day after day passed without news, it began to be accepted as a settled fact that the culprits would never be found.

One happy day, however, came to lighten the gloom of Uncle Aaron. And that was the day that the Rushton boys said good-by to Oldtown and started for Rally Hall.

"Thank fortune," he said to himself, "they're going at last! A little longer and I'd be bankrupt or crazy, or both."

But if Uncle Aaron was delighted to have them go, nobody else shared that feeling, except Jed Muggs.

That worthy was in high glee, as he drove up to the Rushton home on that eventful morning, to take them and their trunks to the railroad station at Carlette.

Although he had made a pretty good thing, in a money way, out of the accident, charging Mr. Rushton a great deal more than would have made up the damage, he had by no means forgiven Teddy for the fright and the shock he had suffered on that occasion. The Fourth of July incident of the painted horses, of which he firmly—and rightly—believed Teddy to have been the author, also still "stuck in his crop."

The old coach and horses swung up to the gate, and Fred and Teddy came out. They had had a private parting with their parents, and now the whole family, including Bunk, had come out on the veranda to see them off.

Mr. Rushton was grave and thoughtful. Mrs. Rushton was smiling bravely and trying to hide her tears. Uncle Aaron looked perfectly resigned. Old Martha was blubbering openly.

The trunks were strapped on and the boys jumped inside the coach. Jed climbed to the driver's seat, chirruped to his horses and they were off amid a chorus of farewells.

Those left behind waved to them until they were out of sight. But in the last glimpse that the boys had of the old home, they saw that their mother was sobbing on her husband's shoulder, while Martha's apron was over her face.

They themselves were more deeply stirred than they cared to show, and for some time they were very quiet and thoughtful.

They chanced to be the only passengers that morning, and Jed, having no one else to talk to, turned his batteries on them.

"So you're goin' to leave us, be you?" he remarked, chewing meditatively on a straw.

"Yes," answered Teddy, the light of battle coming into his eyes, "and we hate to tear ourselves away from you, Jed. You've always been such a good pal of ours."

"It breaks us all up to leave you," chimed in Fred, "and we wouldn't do it if it weren't absolutely necessary. I don't know how you are going to get along without us."

"A heap sight better than I ever got along with yer!" snapped out Jed. "I won't be lyin' awake nights now, wonderin' what rascality you kids will be cookin' up next."

"And this is all the thanks we get for trying to make things pleasant for you all these years!" exclaimed Teddy, in mock despair.

"The more you do for some people, the less they think of you," and Fred shook his head mournfully.

"I tell you young scalawags one thing, and that ain't two," Jed came back at them. "Ef it hadn't be'n fer me, you two might be behind the bars this blessed minit.

"I ain't never writ ter the gover'ment yit, about you interferin' with the United States mail," he went on magnanimously. "Yer pa and ma is nice folks an' I don't want ter make no trouble fer them. Perhaps I oughtn't ter hush the matter up, me bein', as yer might say, a officer of the gover'ment when I'm carryin' the mails"—here his chest expanded—"an' maybe the hull matter will come out yet and make a big scandal at Washington. Yer actually busted up gover'ment prope'ty. That padlock on the mail bag wuz bent so that I had ter git a new one——"

"Yes," interrupted Fred, "father said that he paid you a dollar for that."

"I've seen those same padlocks on sale in the store for twenty-five cents," added Teddy.

"That's neither here nur there," said Jed hastily. "The nub of the hull thing is that if it hadn't been fer me, yer might be doin' the lock step in Atlanta or Leavenworth, or some other of them gover'ment jails. How would yer like that, eh? And wearin' stripes, an' nuthin' but mush and merlasses fer breakfast, an' guards standin' around with guns, an'——"

But what other dismal horrors might have been conjured up by Jed will never be known, as at that moment they came up alongside the railroad station at Carlette, and more pressing things demanded his attention.

"Great Scott, Teddy!" exclaimed Fred, as they jumped down, "the whole gang is here!"

Sure enough, it seemed as though all the juvenile population of Oldtown had turned out to give them a royal send-off.

They ran up to the boys with a shout.

"It's bully of you fellows to walk all this distance to say good-by," said Fred, and Teddy echoed him.

"We'd have come up to the house," explained Bob Ellis, "but we knew you'd have a whole lot to say to your own folks, and we didn't want to butt in."

"We're all dead sore at your leaving the town," said Jim. "It won't seem like the same old place with you fellows out of it."

There was a general chorus of assent to this from the other boys.

"We hate to leave the old crowd, too," said Fred. "But, of course, we'll be back at holidays and vacation times. I only wish you fellows were going along with us."

"That would be great," agreed Jack. "But no such luck for us."

"I don't know how we're going to fill your place on the football and baseball teams," mourned Tom Barrett. "We'll be dead easy for the other teams now."

"Don't you believe it!" said Fred heartily. "You'll find fellows to take our places that will be better players than we ever dared to be."

"Nix on that stuff!" said Jim. "You know well enough that you put it all over every other fellow in town."

The locomotive whistled at the nearest crossing, and a moment later the train came into sight.

There was a perfect hubbub of farewells, and amid a chorus of good wishes that fairly warmed their hearts, the boys swung aboard. Even Jed thawed out enough to wave his hand at them in semi-friendly fashion.

"I'll keep it dark," he called after them, "that is unless the gover'ment gits after me, on account of——"

But the rest was lost in the rattle of the train.

The Rushton boys were off at last.



CHAPTER XIII

ANDY SHANKS, BULLY

The train was a long one, consisting of seven cars, beside the smoker, but, as the homeward rush after summer vacations was in full swing, it was pretty well filled, and the boys found it hard to get two seats together.

It was only after they had gone through the first three coaches, that they saw their opportunity.

About the middle of the fourth car, a back had been turned so that two seats faced each other.

Only one passenger was occupying this space, a large overgrown boy, about sixteen years old. His face was heavy, and his loose mouth and protruding eyes gave him a most unpleasant expression. A traveling cap was pulled down part way over his eyes, and he looked up from under the peak of this with a cold, piggy stare, as the boys paused beside the seats.

Filling up the rest of the seat beside him was a raincoat and a tennis racket. On the seat facing him he had deposited a heavy suit case, that filled it from end to end.

Fred and Teddy stood beside him for a moment without speaking, taking it for granted that he would take his suit case from the seat and put it on the floor. He did nothing of the kind, however, and continued to gaze at them insolently.

The surprise that Fred felt at first was rapidly giving place to a different feeling, but he restrained himself, and asked, pleasantly enough:

"Beg pardon, but would you mind putting your suit case on the floor, so that we may have the seat?"

"Of course, I'd mind," came the ungracious answer. "There are plenty of other seats in the train, if you'll only look for them."

A red flush began to creep up Fred's neck, which to any one who knew him would have been a danger signal. But he put out a hand to restrain Teddy, and answered patiently:

"Perhaps there may be, though I haven't been able to find them, but I just happen to want this one," and he pointed to where the suit case was resting.

"Nothing doing!" sneered the other. "Guess again!"

Fred came of fighting stock. One of his ancestors had fought in the battle of Kings Mountain, and another had scoured the seas under Decatur in the War of 1812.

He had been taught to keep his temper under restraint and never to provoke a quarrel. But he had been trained also never to dodge trouble if it came his way in any case where his rights or his self-respect were involved.

Like a flash, he grasped the heavy suit case and put it on the floor, its owner giving a howl as it came down on his toes. At the same instant, Teddy swung the back of the seat so that it faced the other way, and the boys dropped into it.

The rage of the flabby-faced youth was fearful. He started to his feet, his eyes popping from his head in his excitement.

"You—you——" he spluttered. "I'll——"

"Well," replied Fred, turning and looking him straight in the face, "what'll you do?"

Before the resolute glow in Fred's eyes, the bully weakened.

"You'll find out what I'll do," he mumbled. "I'll—I'll get you yet."

"All right," remarked Fred calmly. "You can start something whenever you like. I'll be ready for you. No car seat hog can try any such game with me and get away with it."

The fellow slumped back in his seat, mouthing and muttering. Nor was his defeat made less bitter by noting the smiles of approval with which the other passengers greeted the incident.

"Good work, son," laughed a grizzled old farmer, sitting across the aisle. "That's the way to take the wind out of his sails."

"What you got to say about it?" growled Andy, glaring at him.

"Whatever I choose to," was the answer, "and there'll be plenty more to say if you give me any of your impudence."

Andy subsided, but for the rest of the journey his little eyes glowered with rage as he kept them fixed on the boys in front.

"He's a sweet specimen, isn't he?" chuckled Teddy.

"I'd hate to have to live under the same roof with him," answered Fred, little thinking that for the next nine months they would have to do just that thing.

"Starting off with a scrap the first thing!" laughed Ted. "Wonder what mother would say to that?"

"I think she'd say we did just right," answered Fred, "and I'm dead sure that father would."

Nothing further happened to mar the pleasure of their journey. The country through which the train was passing was entirely new to the boys, and, in the ever changing panorama that flew past the windows, they soon became so absorbed, that they almost forgot the existence of their unpleasant fellow-traveler.

"Green Haven the next stop!" sang out the brakeman.

"Here we are," said Fred, as the boys began to gather up their traps. A little quiver of excitement ran through their veins. They were on the threshold of a new life. It was the most momentous step they had ever taken.

With a clangor of the bell and hissing of steam, the train slowed up at the station.

Green Haven was a smart, hustling little town, much larger than Oldtown. There was a row of stores stretching away from the station, quite a pretentious hotel, and the spires of three churches rose above the maples that bordered the village streets. There was the hotel bus drawn up beside the depot, and alongside this a much larger one, used by the students in going to and from Rally Hall, which was a little more than a mile from the town.

"Quite a crowd of people getting off here," commented Fred, as he stepped into the aisle of the car.

"Yes," answered Teddy. "Hello, the bully is gone!" he exclaimed, as he glanced at the seat back of him.

"Sure enough," rejoined Fred. "There he goes, now," and he indicated the rear door of the car, through which their ugly neighbor was just disappearing.

"I wonder if he lives in Green Haven," said Teddy. "If he does, we may run across him once in a while."

"Something pleasant to look forward to," laughed Fred, as they stepped down to the station platform.

There was a large crowd of young fellows at the station, and there was a noisy interchange of greetings, as others stepped from the train. Everybody seemed to know everybody else, and the boys felt a little forlorn, as they looked over the gay throng and saw no face that they knew.

They were making their way toward the bus, when a tall, manly young fellow, who had been watching them, came to meet them. His keen grey eyes were kindly and humorous, and he wore a friendly smile that made the boys warm to him at once.

"I don't know how good a guesser I am," he laughed, as he held out a hand to each, "but I'll bet you fellows are going to Rally Hall."

"Guessed it right, the first time," smiled Fred, as he and Teddy grasped the extended hands.

"Good," was the answer. "Then we're fellow sufferers, and we'd better get acquainted right away. Melvin Granger is my handle. What are the names you fellows go by?

"Brothers, eh?" he went on, when the boys had introduced themselves. "That's dandy. It won't be half as lonesome for you at the start as it would be if either of you came alone. Still, there's a bunch of good fellows here, and it won't be long before you'll feel at home. I think you'll like them, most of them, that is. Of course, there is, here and there, an exception——"

He paused just here to nod carelessly to a passer-by.

"How are you, Shanks?" he said indifferently.

The boys followed the direction of his glance, and Teddy clutched Fred's arm.

"Why!" he exclaimed, "that's the fellow we had the scrap with on the train."

"Scrap," repeated Granger, laughing. "Well, I don't wonder. Scrap is Andy's middle name. He," and his eyes twinkled, "he's one of the 'exceptions' I just mentioned."



CHAPTER XIV

"HARDTACK" RALLY

"Well," commented Fred, as they made their way toward the bus which was filling up rapidly, "I'm glad that he's the exception and not the rule. A very little of him will go a good way with me."

"Yes, that's a case where 'enough is plenty,'" assented Granger.

The Rushton boys' bags were slung into a wagon standing alongside the bus and their trunks followed. Then the lads took the only seats remaining in the bus, the door slammed to and they were on their way to Rally Hall. The students inside were in high spirits, and as the Rushton boys looked around at their companions they were ready to believe Melvin Granger's statement that they were all around good fellows. Brown as berries from their summer outings, full of the zest of living, their bright eyes and boisterous laughter showed that they were kindred spirits to the newcomers.

"I don't see our grouchy friend here with the rest," Fred remarked, as he looked around.

"Not with the common herd," grinned Melvin. "There he goes now," as they heard the honk of a horn, and an automobile swept by, leaving a cloud of dust behind it.

In the driver's seat, holding the wheel, was their acquaintance of the train, while slumped down beside him was a smaller youth, with little, shifting eyes and a retreating chin.

The fellows in the bus looked at each other understandingly.

"Andy and his valet," one of them remarked.

"Yes," replied Granger, to the unspoken question in the eyes of the brothers, "he's got an auto of his own. Keeps it in a garage down in the village."

"To tell the truth," he went on, "that's half the trouble with Shanks. He has more money than is good for him. His father's a millionaire they say—got a big woolen mill somewhere down in Massachusetts. But if he knows how to make money, he doesn't know how to bring up a boy. Andy's the only son, and his father lets him have all the money he wants, and doesn't ask him what he does with it. He's always been allowed to have his own way, and it's only natural that he should think he owns the earth. And that's one of the reasons he wanted to have four seats to himself in the train this morning, even if some one else had to stand."

"One of the reasons, you say. What are the others?" asked Fred.

"Well, I guess the others must be set down to Andy's unfortunate disposition," laughed Granger. "There are other fellows here who have rich fathers, but they're good fellows just the same."

"Was that really his valet who was in the auto with him?" asked Teddy.

"No," replied Melvin, with a smile, "that's only the name the fellows gave to Sid Wilton. He plays second fiddle to Shanks. He's always at his beck and call, and ready to fetch and carry for him. He jumps through the hoop and rolls over and plays dead whenever Andy gives the word.

"But here we are now," the other youth went on, as the bus turned from the road into a broad avenue, shaded by elms and maples. "Behold, gentlemen and fellow citizens," he jested, "the far-famed institution of learning known as Rally Hall!"

The boys leaned out eagerly to see what would be their home for many months to come.

Before them rose a massive building, three stories in height, made of pressed brick and with white granite facings. A wing at right angles to the main building on each side, gave it the form of three sides of a square.

A wide flight of stone steps led to the main floor, which was devoted to class rooms and the offices of the institution. On the second floor were the dormitories, varying in size, and containing from eight to twelve beds each. The rooms of the principal and teachers occupied the greater part of the third floor, while a section in the left wing was set apart for the janitor and the other employees of the school.

Before the building stretched a large campus, covering several acres. Most of it was lawn, although it was interspersed with bits of woodland. On one side of it was a large frame building, used as a gymnasium, and immediately adjoining was the athletic field. This was very large and was kept in superb condition. There were a number of tennis courts, but the major part was reserved for baseball and football. A full-sized diamond was surrounded with smooth turf that shone like green velvet, though browning a little in places under the September sun. A half mile running track encircled the whole field.

Directly in front of the Hall, at the foot of the gently sloping campus, lay Lake Morora. It was about two miles in length by three-quarters of a mile wide and was dotted by several tiny islands. It was the most beautiful body of water the boys had ever beheld, and they fell in love with it at once.

"My! isn't it a peach?" murmured Teddy.

"It sure does make a hit with me!" agreed Fred emphatically.

"It's a dandy, all right," was Granger's comment, "and the fellows have no end of fun on it. But come along now," he added. "You'll have plenty of time later on to ask 'what are the wild waves saying?' But just at present, we'd better hunt up old Hardtack."

"Hardtack?" asked Fred wonderingly.

"Sure!" grinned Granger, "the boss of this shebang."

"Oh!" exclaimed Fred, a light breaking in upon him, "you mean Dr. Hardach Rally?"

"Dr. Hardach Rally," said Melvin, with mock solemnity, "is the very man I mean.

"Naturally," he went on, "I don't call him 'Hardtack' to his face. It wouldn't be exactly healthy to do it."

"Hardtack," chuckled Teddy. "Wouldn't Uncle Aaron have a fit if he knew the fellows called him that?"

"The name fits pretty well, too, I guess," laughed Fred. "From what we've heard, he must be a terror."

"Oh, I don't know," rejoined Granger. "He isn't exactly a cooing dove in disposition, and if a fellow tries any monkey business, he comes down on him like a thousand of brick. Still, he's not such a bad kind after all. He's pretty severe, and he won't stand for a shirk or a crook. But if a fellow's white and tries to do the square thing, he'll get along and not find Hardtack too hard to digest."

By this time they had mounted the steps, and Granger, who had taken an instant liking to the boys and had made himself their "guide, philosopher and friend," led the way to the private office of the head of Rally Hall.

A gruff "come in" was the answer to his knock, and they entered the study.

It was a large square room with a polished hardwood floor. Behind the flat mahogany desk sat Dr. Hardach Rally.

He was lean and spare and above middle height. He wore a pair of horn spectacles through which peered a keen, uncompromising pair of eyes. He gave the impression of a stern man, but nevertheless a just one.

"Good afternoon, Granger," he said stiffly, and his eyes rested inquiringly on the two boys.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Rally," replied Granger. "These friends of mine are Fred and Teddy Rushton. I met them at the railroad station."

Dr. Rally shook hands with the newcomers and asked them to be seated. Then Granger excused himself and with a whispered "see you later" hurried from the room.



CHAPTER XV

LEARNING THE ROPES

The boys sat there, silently studying the new "master of their fate," and wondering how they would get along with him. He, in turn, looked them over carefully. Then he leaned forward and took some papers from his desk.

"I was expecting you," he said, glancing at two letters he held in his hand. "Your father wrote me that you would reach here to-day.

"I have also here a letter from your uncle, Mr. Aaron Rushton," he went on. "He is a very close friend of mine, and I gather that it was through his suggestion that your father decided to send you here."

Fred murmured an assent, while Teddy's heart sank, as he tried to imagine what Uncle Aaron had said about him in the letter.

Dr. Rally sat up straight in his chair. It was significant that it was not an easy revolving chair, but as stiff and perpendicular as the doctor himself.

"The matter of your studies and assignment to classes," Dr. Rally continued, "will be looked after by Professor Raymond, my chief assistant. I will send you to him in a moment. But first, I want to say one word.

"The discipline of the school is strict, and it must be obeyed. Sometimes"—here he glanced at Uncle Aaron's letter and then let his gaze fall on Teddy, who squirmed inwardly—"a boy comes here who thinks that he is going to run the school. He never makes the same mistake a second time. That is all."

He gave the boys directions how to find Professor Raymond, and they found themselves out in the hall, surprised at the briefness of the interview, but relieved that it was over.

"Say!" exclaimed Fred, "he didn't have so much to say, after all."

"He didn't talk very much, if that is what you mean," corrected Teddy, who was unusually thoughtful, for him, "but he said a good deal."

"I wonder what Uncle Aaron told him in his letter," mused Teddy. "I'll bet he just skinned me alive."

"Oh, well, don't you care," Fred consoled him. "Your cake is dough with Uncle Aaron, and I suppose it will always, unless he finds his watch and papers."

"Do you suppose he ever will?" asked Teddy, for at least the hundredth time, and rather wistfully.

"We'll keep on hoping so, anyway," replied Fred. "But here's the room the doctor told us to go to."

They found Professor Raymond to be a young man, alert and vigorous and full of snap. He was very friendly and cordial, and the boys liked him from the start.

He examined the boys as to the point that they had reached in their studies, and carefully looked over the reports they had brought from their teachers in the Oldtown school. These proved exceedingly satisfactory. Fred's work had been really brilliant, while Teddy, despite his love of mischief, had held a very creditable rank in his studies.

The professor assigned them to their classes and gave them all necessary directions as to the hours of study and times for recitations. Then he consulted a slip he took from his desk.

"I'm going to put you boys in Dormitory Number Three," he said finally. "There are ten beds in there, and just two have been left vacant. I'll give directions for your trunks and bags to be sent up there, and you can unpack and get your things arranged in the wardrobe and locker that stand at the heads of your beds. By the time you get rested and freshened up, it will be nearly time for supper."

Dormitory Number Three, they found to be a very large and airy room in the front of the building on the second floor, and commanding a splendid view of the lake. There were ten single beds, with ample space between them, and at the head of each was a wardrobe and locker. At the foot was a washstand with all the necessary appliances.

The dormitory was intended for sleeping purposes only. On the floor below, there were special study rooms, where the boys were supposed to prepare their lessons for the next day's recitations.

Fred and Teddy had just begun to wash, when Granger came through the door like a whirlwind.

"Well, by all that's lucky!" he exclaimed. "So Raymond's put you in here, has he? I was hoping he would. Now that's what I call bully!"

"That's what we call it, too, if this is your dormitory," said Fred, who had seldom formed so strong a liking for any one on such short acquaintance.

"I've slept here for the last two years," replied Melvin, "and I think it's the best dormitory in the whole school. Look at the view from here." His sweeping gesture took in the lake, rippling in the glow of the western sun.

"It's a pippin, all right!" assented Fred.

"It sure is!" echoed Teddy.

"And we've got a ripping lot of fellows in here, too," went on Melvin. "All of them are the real goods. There isn't a snoop or a sneak in the bunch. All of them are old timers, except two fellows that came in two days ago. One of them is named Garwood, who comes from out West somewhere. The other is Lester Lee from somewhere down on the coast of Maine. I don't know much about them yet, but I like them first-rate from what I've seen of them so far. I think we're going to be a regular happy family, as soon as we get going, and I'm mighty glad you fellows are going to be in the crowd."

Nobody was gladder than Fred and Teddy themselves. Although they had not confessed it, even to each other, they had felt a sort of dread of the first few days at school. They had not known but what it might take weeks before they could establish their footing and begin to feel at home. Yet here it was only a few hours, and this friendly, big-hearted boy had taken them right in, as cordially as though he had known them for years. If they were to suffer from loneliness or homesickness, it would not be Melvin Granger's fault.

"Here come some of the fellows now," he said, as a noisy group burst into the room and began to make use of wash basins and towels. "I won't stop to introduce you now. The supper gong will ring in about five minutes, and they'll be breaking their necks to get ready in time. When we get up here again after supper and study hours, I'll trot them all out, and they can tell you the sad stories of their lives."

As he had predicted, the splashing of water and brushing of hair were interrupted a few moments later by the clanging of the gong that told a hundred or more hungry boys that supper was ready. There was no need of a second summons, and with a last hasty touch to their incomplete toilets, they came trooping into the immense dining-room that covered an entire floor in one of the wings.

There were eight long tables, at the head of each of which was one of the teachers. Dr. Rally sat apart, in state, with his family, at a private table in one corner of the room. For this, all the boys inwardly thanked their stars. Not one of them would have cared to eat under the direct glare of the head of the school.

Fred and Teddy were glad to find that they had been assigned to the table over which Professor Raymond presided. Melvin, too, was at the same table, a little higher up.

The food was plentiful and well cooked, and although Fred and Teddy would not have minded having one or two of the dainties that old Martha was so adept in preparing, it was plain that her prophecy of their early death from starvation was not going to be fulfilled. They made a most satisfactory meal, marred only by the fact that Teddy's piece of pie was devoured by some unknown neighbor while he was talking to Fred.

He was game, however, and not being able to swallow the pie, swallowed his resentment, making a mental vow to get even, if he should ever discover the culprit.

A half an hour for rest and recreation followed the supper. Then the bell rang for a study period of two hours. At the end of this time work was over for the day, and the boys sought their dormitories to do as they chose till bedtime. All lights were to be out by ten o'clock.

The boys came into Number Three with a clatter and a bang. When they were all there, Melvin lifted his hand to hush the racket.

"Hi, there, you fellows," he shouted. "Keep still for a minute. I want to say something."

The tumult subsided, as the boys came crowding around him.

"Gentlemen," he said, with mock dignity—"I know I flatter you, but no matter—I want to introduce you to two new roommates, Fred and Teddy Rushton."



CHAPTER XVI

A JOLLY CROWD

There was a general bow and smile on the part of all, as the boys acknowledged the introduction, and then Melvin became more personal:

"You have here before you," he said to the Rushton boys, assuming the air and tone of a "barker" at a seaside show, "the most gorgeous collection of freaks ever gathered under one tent. Positively, gentlemen, an unparalleled aggregation of the most astonishing wonders of nature now in captivity, assembled by the management without regard to expense from all quarters of the civilized and uncivilized world. So remarkable, gentlemen, are these specimens of the animal world that they have even been taught to walk, talk and eat like human beings. Some have even gone so far as to say that they are human, although this opinion is not maintained by those who know them best.

"And what do I charge you, gentlemen, for gazing at this mammoth collection of monsters and missing links? Do I charge you a half a dollar? I do not. Do I even ask you for a quarter? I do not. Do I even set you back to the extent of a dime? I do not. Do I even extract from your vest pocket the humble jitney? No, gentlemen, a thousand times, no!

"This amazing show is free, gentlemen, absolutely free, free as the air, free as the sunshine, free as good advice, free as——"

He ducked, just as a pillow flew past his head.

"Jo-Jo, the dog-faced boy, did that," he explained; "whenever he hears me say 'free' he thinks it means that he's to be free with me. But I don't mind, because he never hits anything."

There was a general laugh, and Granger abandoned his showman's attitude.

"This is Billy Burton, the sweet singer of the Wabash," he said, indicating a stocky youth with a shock of red hair. "We call him the Indiana Nightingale, because he's so different. You ought to hear him sing 'We Give the Baby Garlic, So that We Can Find Him in the Dark!' The sentiment's so strong, it brings tears to your eyes."

"You're pretty good at music yourself, Mel," retorted Billy.

"I?" said Melvin in surprise. "Why I don't know one note from another. I don't think I could play a jewsharp or a hand-organ. What kind of music am I good at?"

"Chin music," replied Billy.

Melvin was fairly caught, and the boys howled.

"You got me that time, Billy," Melvin cried. "But, talking of music, here's the real goods in that line," and he laid his hand on the shoulder of an olive-skinned Italian boy, with delicate features and large dark eyes.

"This is Tony Dirocco," he went on; "Tony's a count or some other high muckamuck in his own country, and he's studying here while his father is at Washington on some diplomatic business or other. But Tony doesn't care half as much about books as he does about music. Say, when he gets hold of a violin he fairly makes it talk. Real high brow stuff, you know, operas and things like that, the kind that goes right up and down your spine and takes your heart out by the roots. Just wait until he gives us one of his concerts all by himself."

Tony shook hands with a shy smile, and the boys made up their minds that they were going to like him immensely.

"Now for our Spanish athlete," said Granger, "the man who 'throws the bull.' This is Slim Haley," and he nodded toward a fat chubby fellow who must have weighed close to two hundred pounds. His broad face was wreathed with smiles, and his eyes twinkled with fun, as he came forward.

"This puny infant," went on Melvin, "can tell the most wonderful stories you ever heard, and tell them with such an innocent air that sometimes you almost believe him. He's got Baron Munchausen skinned a mile. He was telling me one to-day about a rabbit, and I sat watching him, expecting every minute to see him choke."

"Oh, come off, Mel," laughed "Slim." "You see," he said, turning to the boys, "the trouble with Mel is that he hasn't imagination enough to understand anything he hasn't seen himself. Now that story of the rabbit——"

"Let's hear it, and judge for ourselves," suggested Fred.

"Why, it was like this," said Slim. "It was out in the Western League, and they were having a close game of ball. It was in the ninth inning, with two men out and one run needed to win.

"The man at the bat, one of the best sluggers on the team, soaked the ball good and plenty on a line to centre field. It hit a rabbit, who was browsing near the centre field fence. Of course it scared him, and he came streaking in and reached second base just before the batter.

"Down the line went the rabbit toward third, with the batter legging it right after him. The rabbit touched third and then, frightened at the crowd in the bleachers just behind third, it turned around and scooted for the home plate. It crossed the plate with the batter right at its heels, just as the ball was thrown in. But although the batter touched the plate just before the ball got there, the umpire called him out."

"I don't see why," interrupted Teddy.

"Of course there was a big kick about it," said Slim smoothly, "but the decision went, just the same. The umpire said the rabbit paced the runner and made him run faster than he otherwise would, and so he got to the plate before the ball."

There was a dead silence, while the boys watched Slim, as though they expected the fate of Ananias to overtake him.

Fred coughed significantly.

"You see," said Slim mournfully, to Granger, "he doesn't believe it either. You've poisoned his mind against me. You've taken away my reputation. Why, if you don't believe it," he went on, in pretended indignation, "I can take you out there and show you the very grounds where the thing happened! I can show you the very base that the rabbit touched! I can show you the bleachers where the crowd sat that frightened the rabbit! If the rabbit's alive still, perhaps I can show you the rabbit! If——"

"That'll do," said Melvin solemnly. "The court finds you guilty, and condemns you to twenty years of truth-telling."

"That's a cruel and unusual punishment," put in Billy Burton, "and the Constitution forbids that kind."

"I'm only making the punishment fit the crime," answered Melvin. "I'm ashamed of you, Slim. Now you go way back and sit down, while I introduce the rest of these infants."

The remaining "infants," so disrespectfully alluded to, were duly made known to the boys in a similar jovial way. There was Ned Wayland, who was introduced as the heaviest batter on the baseball team, and Tom Eldridge, who had kicked the deciding goal in their last game of football with a rival school.

Finally, there were Lester Lee and Bill Garwood, of whom Melvin had less to say, because they had just come, and he knew them hardly better than he did the Rushton boys themselves.

But Fred and Teddy felt from the start that there was something in these newcomers that attracted them strongly.

Bill Garwood, they found, was a quiet, reserved youth, who gave one the impression of latent force. His eyes that looked straight into theirs were clear and frank, and there were the tiny wrinkles beneath them that come from looking off into far spaces. On the ranch at Snake River from which he came, he had lived far from neighbors, and he seemed a little shy and awkward amid the abounding life at the Hall. But, underneath his quiet exterior, one felt that he had sterling qualities and in case of trouble would be a good friend to have at one's back.

Lester Lee impressed them with equal favor. He was tall and lean, and his face was as bronzed as a sailor's. This did not surprise the boys when they learned that he had lived in the lighthouse at Bartanet Shoals on the coast of Maine. He was jolly and full of fun, and had a magnetic way with him that put him on cordial terms with the boys at once.

When at last they were undressing, seated on their adjoining beds, Fred turned to Teddy, who had just given a low chuckle.

"What's the joke?" he asked.

"I was thinking that the joke was on Uncle Aaron," replied Teddy.

"How's that?"

"Why, he thought he was punishing us by having us sent here," answered Teddy, "and I'll just bet that we're going to have the best time of our lives."

"Provided we don't have a run in with Andy Shanks," suggested Fred, yawning.

"Yes," said Teddy thoughtfully, "we've got to look out for that fellow."

"I don't think he knows we're here yet," continued Fred. "He didn't seem to see us when he spoke to Granger this afternoon."

"He'll find it out soon enough," remarked Teddy, "and when he does, look out for squalls."

And the squalls were not long in coming.



CHAPTER XVII

TEDDY'S JOKE

Two weeks went by with amazing swiftness, and it looked as though Teddy's prediction was going to be realized. Certainly, so far, they were having, in Fred's words, "a whale of a time."

All the newness and rawness had worn off, and they felt as fully at home at Rally Hall, as they might have felt in months, if they had started under less favorable conditions.

All the boys in their own dormitory had learned to like them thoroughly, and among the rest of the boys outside they were general favorites.

There were, to be sure, a few exceptions. And chief among these were the bully, Andy Shanks, and his toady, Sid Wilton, together with two or three others who hung about Shanks, because of his money and the "good times" he could give those who sought his favor.

Andy, in the crowd at the station, had not seen the boys get off the train and enter the bus. So that he was entirely taken aback, when, on the following day, he had come face to face with them on the campus.

He stepped back with an ugly sneer.

"So you're here, are you?" he whipped out.

"No," said Fred coolly, "I'm somewhere else."

"None of your lip now!" snarled Shanks, thrusting out his jaw and putting his pasty face close to Fred's. "I'm not used to taking back talk from any fellow in this school."

"You'd better get used to it then right away," was the retort, "because I give it to you straight that you're going to get plenty of it, if you come fooling around me. And I give you the tip to steer clear of me, if you don't want to get something besides talk."

The bully was clearly at a loss to know what to do, when he found his bluff called in such a determined manner. He had been used to having things largely his own way. His money was accountable for this, in part, and then, too, he was much larger and stronger than most of the boys in the school.

He measured Fred with his eye from head to foot, and what he saw did not serve to increase his confidence. Fred was tall and muscular, and Andy saw again in his eyes the fighting look that had cowed him in the train.

Still it was hard for him to believe that, when the test came, this newcomer would not back down as most of the other boys had done. Besides, quite a crowd of the fellows had come up now, scenting a fight in prospect, and it would ruin his reputation among them if he retreated now before them all.

"I've a good mind to give you a thump in the jaw," he growled.

"Don't hesitate on my account," said Fred politely.

The snicker that came from the crowd at this remark maddened Andy.

"I won't," he shouted, and made a move to strike.

Like a flash, Fred shed his coat.

"Come on then," he cried, "and I'll give you the licking that you're aching for."

There was a delighted stir among the other fellows, as they formed a ring around the two. Their sympathies were all with Fred, although few expected him to win against the bully of the school.

Only one voice was lifted for Shanks.

"Soak him, Andy," piped up the shrill voice of Sid Wilton, his toady, whom most of the boys disliked even more than they did Andy, if that were possible.

But Andy, at that moment, was not showing any great eagerness to "soak" his antagonist. If Fred had flinched in the slightest degree, he would have been upon him. But as he looked into the flashing eyes that met his defiantly, the "yellow streak" that is in most bullies began to show in Andy. His pallid face grew whiter and a blue tinge showed about his lips.

With the eyes of all upon him, however, he saw no way of retreat, and began to take off his coat.

It was noticeable, though, that he did this with great deliberation.

Suddenly a look of relief came into his eyes as he saw an approaching figure.

"Here comes Professor Raymond," he said, trying to put into his words a tone of disappointment. "We'll have to put this off till some other time. Mighty lucky for you, too, or I'd have done you up good and proper," he flung at Fred, all his courage returning when there was no longer any demand for it.

"Let's go down to the gymnasium and have it out there," suggested Fred. But Andy pretended not to hear. He slipped on his coat hurriedly, and, in company with Sid Wilton, strolled off in one direction, while most of the boys scattered in the other.

Professor Raymond sauntered up to a little group, composed of Fred, Teddy, Billy Burton and "Slim" Haley.

His keen eye took in the flushed face of Fred and the air of suppressed excitement among the others. He guessed pretty well what had been about to happen, and, knowing Andy for what he was, he had little doubt as to who had provoked the row. In his secret heart he would not have been at all sorry to have that young cub get the whipping he richly deserved.

Still, of course, he could not tolerate any breach of the rules of the school, which strictly forbade fighting.

He paused and looked keenly from one to the other.

"Any trouble, boys?" he asked.

"No, sir," answered Fred respectfully, "that is, not yet."

"Nor at any other time, I hope," said his teacher. "Remember, boys, no fighting."

But he did not pursue the matter further, and, after chatting a moment, went on, with a little smile upon his lips. In his own college days he had been the lightweight champion of his class. There was good red blood in Professor Raymond.

"That 'not yet' was a good one," grinned Billy Burton. "I see a whole lot of trouble coming in the near future."

"I shouldn't wonder," answered Fred, who was firmly convinced in his own mind that Andy would still force him to give him the thrashing that he needed.

"And I guess that most of the trouble will be for Andy," said Slim. "Did you notice how he tried to crawfish just now? And how glad he was to see the prof coming? It was a life-saver for Andy."

"Yes," laughed Billy, "he reminded me of two fellows that got into a fight. Half a dozen men rushed in, crying, 'hold them, stop them.' The fellow who had been getting the worst of it hollered out: 'That's right, boys, five of you hold him. One'll be enough to hold me.'"

"It sure wouldn't have needed many to hold Andy back," chuckled Slim.

As the days passed on, however, the affair simmered down and perhaps would have died a natural death, if a bit of mischief on Teddy's part had not revived it.

Andy, one day, brought out on the campus a placard, on which was written "Kick me." A bent pin at the top enabled him to fasten it to the coat of some unsuspecting boy. Then Andy would give him a vigorous kick, and when the victim protested, would show him the invitation.

Under ordinary conditions it would only have been a harmless joke, and would have been taken in good part. But Andy's vicious nature and love for causing pain made him kick so hard and cruelly that his victims felt rage and resentment. But as he carefully chose only the smaller boys, they did not dare to retaliate.

But after a while they were all on their guard, and the brave Andy, seeing no more worlds to conquer, laid the placard on a bench and forgot it.

Teddy caught sight of it, and the impulse seized him to give the bully a taste of his own medicine. He slipped up behind him and fastened the card to his coat amid the awestruck silence of those who saw him.

Bill Garwood, who had seen with indignation what Andy had been doing, promptly accepted the invitation. He swung his foot and it landed fair on Shanks, who turned with a roar of rage.

"What did you do that for?" he howled.

"Because you asked me to," said Bill, deftly unhooking the placard and showing it to him.

"Ted Rushton put that on you," shrilled Sid Wilton, who came hurrying up. "I saw him do it."

Bill was husky, while Teddy was smaller, and Shanks, true to his nature, reached for what seemed to him the easier game. Teddy stoutly stood his ground, but before the bully could reach him, Bill Garwood's hand was on his collar, his knuckles boring deep into his neck.

"No, you don't," he said, as he yanked him back. "What kind of a sport are you, anyway? You've been kicking these fellows twice as hard as I kicked you, but the minute you get a taste of it, you go off the handle. And anyway, if you want to do any fighting why don't you pick out a fellow of your size? I'm about your size. Do you get me?"

There was no doubt of his meaning, and his perfect readiness to stand by his meaning was so evident, that Andy concluded discretion to be the better part of valor. He turned away sourly, shooting a look at Teddy, which, if looks could kill, would have left him dead upon the spot.

For both Fred and Teddy a storm was brewing.



CHAPTER XVIII

KICKING THE PIGSKIN

Letters kept coming every week to the Rushton boys from the family at home. Mr. Rushton's, although less frequent than his wife's, were always bright and jolly, and seldom came without enclosing a check, which helped to cover the cost of many a midnight spread in the dormitory, when the boys were supposed to be in bed. Their friends were a unit in declaring that Mr. Rushton was a "real sport."

Those of Mrs. Rushton came oftener, and were full of loving expressions and anxious advice to wear proper clothing and avoid rough sports and be careful about getting their feet wet. Although her chicks were no longer under her maternal wings, she brooded over them every moment, and was counting the days till they returned to her.

She often referred to Uncle Aaron, and the boys were sorry to learn that there was still no trace of the missing watch and papers. He had offered a reward and advertised widely, but had never received even a hint of their whereabouts.

"Old Hi Vickers is a swell detective—I don't think," sighed Teddy, after reading the latest letter.

"I blame myself, partly, for the loss of the watch," remarked Fred regretfully. "I ought to have told somebody right away about those tramps hanging around. Then they might have been rounded up and chased out of town before they had a chance to break into the store."

"You're not to blame for anything," said Teddy bitterly. "I'm the person that caused all the trouble. If I'd only had sense enough not to plug Jed's horse that day, this whole thing wouldn't have happened. If a prize were offered for ivory domes, I'd win it, sure."

"Of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these—it might have been,"

quoted Tom Eldridge, who usually had something pat in the poetical line for all occasions.

"Lay off on the spouting stuff, Tom," said Ned Wayland, "and you fellows stop your grizzling and come down to the football field. It's a dandy afternoon for practice."

It was a wonderful October day, with a crisp breeze coming from the lake that moderated the warmth of the sun, and the boys were stirred by the thrill of youth and life that ran through every vein.

It was too much for Tom, despite the sarcasm with which his previous effort had been greeted, and he burst out:

"There is that nameless splendor everywhere, That wild exhilaration in the air——"

He dodged a pass that Ned made at him.

"Let me alone," he chortled. "Don't you see that I can't help it?"

"The lyric joys that in me throng, Seek to express themselves in song."

The other lads gave it up.

"A hopeless case," murmured Ned, shaking his head sadly.

"Yes," mourned Fred. "And he used to be such a nice fellow, too, before he went bughouse."

"You rough necks are jealous," grinned Tom. "You'd have tried to discourage Shakespeare, if you'd been living then.

"Lucky for the world, you weren't living then," he went on. "For that matter you're not living now. You're dead ones, but you don't know it."

They were still trying to think up a sufficiently cutting response when they came in sight of the football field.

It was an animated scene. A dozen or more boys in their football togs were running over the field, while many more crowded round the side lines as spectators. There was a dummy, at which some of the players were throwing themselves in turn to get tackling practice. Others were running down under punts, and still others were getting instructions in the forward pass.

The game with the Lake Forest School, one of their principal rivals, was now only two weeks off, and the boys were working for dear life to get into form. They had a good team, although three of their best players of the year before had not returned to school this fall.

Teddy was a little too light for the heavy work required in football, although he would have made a good quarter-back, where quickness is more necessary than weight. But that position was already filled by Billy Burton, who was doing capital work, so that there seemed no opening for Teddy. He consoled himself by the determination to make the shortstop position on the baseball team the following spring.

But Fred was husky enough to fill any position, either in the line or the back field, and he had been picked out by Melvin Granger as a "comer."

Melvin was the captain of the team and played centre. He was always on the lookout for any one who could strengthen the team, and had promptly spotted Fred as first-class material.

"Ever play football?" he had asked him, the day after his arrival at Rally Hall.

"A little," answered Fred modestly. He was averse to boasting and did not add, as he might have done truthfully, that he had been, far and away, the best player in his school league.

"What position have you played?" asked Melvin, interested at once.

"Oh, I've played left end and right tackle at different times, but I've had more experience at fullback than anywhere else."

"Great!" exclaimed Melvin. "Welcome to our fair city. We've got a lot of good players for almost every other position on the team, and, if one gets hurt, we don't have much trouble in finding a substitute from the scrubs, which is almost as good as the regular. But in the fullback job there's only one first-class fellow, and that's Tom Eldridge, who's playing it now. Tom's a dandy, but he might get hurt at any time, and we'd have hard work to find any one who could fill his shoes.

"Of course," he went on, "there isn't any vacancy now, and the boys who have been here longest will be given first chance. But, to hold his position, he'll have to prove that no one of the new fellows is better than he is. You won't mind playing on the scrubs at the start, will you?"

"Not a bit," answered Fred stoutly. "I'll go in there and work my head off just the same as if I were on the regular team."

"That's the talk," cried Melvin. "That's the spirit I like to see. And I can see right now that Tom will have all he wants to do to hold his job."

So Fred had gone in on the scrub. There had not been as much chance for practice as usual, as there had been an unusually large number of rainy days that fall, but already he had loomed up as by far the best player among the substitutes. He was right in line for promotion.

And this afternoon his chance came, sooner than he had expected.

The playing had been unusually spirited, and the scrubs had been giving the regulars all they could do to hold their own. At last, however, the first team had got the ball down within ten feet of their opponents' line, and the ball had been passed to Tom Eldridge for one determined attempt to "get it over."

The scrubs braced savagely, but Tom came plunging in like a locomotive. There was a wild mix-up as his adversaries piled up on him, and when the mass was untangled, Tom lay on the ground with a badly sprained ankle. He tried to rise, but sank back with a groan.

They lifted him up, and he stood on one foot, with his arms on their shoulders. Professor Raymond, who had the oversight of athletic sports, came hurrying up and examined the injury. All were immensely relieved when they learned that there were no bones broken, but became grave again when the professor said that the sprain was a bad one and would probably lay Tom up for a couple of weeks.

"Just before the Lake Forest game, too!" exclaimed Ned Wayland. "I tell you, it's tough."

"We're goners now!" moaned Slim Haley.

"Not by a jugful," put in Tom, between whom and Fred the rivalry had been of the most generous kind. "I never saw the day when I could play better football than Fred Rushton. He'll play the position to the queen's taste."

"Nonsense," said Fred. "You can put it all over me, Tom. I'm awfully sorry you got hurt."

Professor Raymond insisted that Tom should be carried at once to the school, where he could have his injured ankle attended to properly. The boys cheered the lad as he was taken away, and then Granger turned to Fred.

"You take his place, Fred," he said, "and show these fellows from Missouri what you can do."

And Fred showed them. He was a little nervous at first as he felt all eyes following him, but, in the excitement of the game, this wore off, and he played like a fiend. He was here, there and everywhere, dodging, twisting, running like a deer, bucking the line with a force that would not be denied. Twice he carried the ball over the line for a touchdown, and before his onslaughts the scrubs crumpled up like paper. It was some of the finest playing that Rally Hall had ever seen, and when the game was ended, he was greeted with a tempest of cheers. He had "made good" beyond a doubt.

"Fred, you played like a wild man!" said Melvin, as they were walking back to the Hall after the game. "You're all to the mustard. Keep it up and we'll lick Lake Forest out of their boots!"



CHAPTER XIX

THE MAN WITH THE SCAR

A few days later Teddy came rushing up to Fred on the campus, his face aglow with excitement.

"Say, Fred," he gasped, "I saw one of them to-day!"

"One of whom?" asked Fred.

"The tramps that looted Cy Brigg's store," responded Teddy.

"You don't mean it!" exclaimed Fred, catching his brother's excitement. "Are you sure? Where did you see him? How do you know he was one of them?"

"By the scar on his face," answered Teddy. "You remember the tall one who looked as if some one had stabbed him up near the temple? I'm sure he's the same one we saw in Sam Perkins' barn."

"Wasn't the other fellow with him?" asked Fred.

"No, he was all alone this time. I was coming up from the post office with Lester Lee when I caught sight of him near the railroad track. He looked tough and slouchy, but not as ragged as when we first saw him."

"Yes," interrupted Fred, "he's had money since then."

"I thought there was something about him that reminded me of some one," went on Teddy, "but it wasn't till after I'd passed him that it came over me who he was. Then I turned around to go after him, with the idea of having him arrested. But he had just gone over the tracks in front of a freight train. The train was a long one and we had to wait several minutes on this side before it got by. Then it was too late. We hunted all over, but couldn't see anything of him."

"That was hard luck," said Fred regretfully.

"Of course," resumed Teddy, "he wasn't trying to get away, because he'd never seen me before, and didn't know that I'd ever seen him. He must have turned a corner somewhere and then melted out of sight. Maybe I wasn't sore! Think what a satisfaction it would be to telegraph to Uncle Aaron that we'd got the fellow who stole his watch."

"It's certainly tough," assented Fred, "to come so close to him and just miss getting him. I'll 'phone down right away to the constable at Green Haven, and tell him to be on the lookout for the fellow."

"Tell him there's a reward out for him," suggested Teddy. "That'll make him keep his eye peeled."

Fred telephoned at once, and received the assurance that the fellow would be arrested if found, and held as a suspicious character until the Oldtown authorities could send for him.

And the next day, the boys themselves, together with a number of their friends, spent all their spare time searching in that part of the town where the tramp had disappeared.

"It's no use, I guess," remarked Fred at last, as they turned back from the outskirts of the town. "He may be miles away by this time."

"Getting ready to break into some other store, perhaps," suggested Teddy. "The loot he got in Oldtown won't last him forever."

"There's a pretty tough looking customer going down that lane," exclaimed Bill Garwood, as they came to a corner in a poor part of the town.

The boys followed his glance and saw a tall, roughly dressed man slouching along a hundred yards away and making toward the open country. He was alone and seemed to be in no hurry.

"It's the same fellow we saw yesterday," said Teddy excitedly. "I'm sure of it. How about it, Lester?"

"It surely looks like him," replied Lester Lee. "The same walk and the same clothes and—yes, the same face," as the man gave a careless look behind him.

"You get down to the constable's office, quick, Teddy," directed Fred. "Run every step of the way. Tell him we've got this fellow located. We'll try to keep him in sight until you get back. Hustle."

Teddy was off like a shot.

But the tramp seemed to know that something was in the air. He looked around again and then quickened his pace. The boys, too, walked faster, and, noting this with another backward glance, the man in front made certain that they were following him with a purpose. What that purpose was he did not know, but his guilty conscience told him that it might be for any one of half a dozen offences.

At the first corner he turned sharply, and when the boys reached it, they saw him loping along at a pace that carried him rapidly over the ground. The houses had thinned out, and there was no one to intercept him as he made for the woods that lay a little way ahead.

"Oh, if Teddy were here with the constable," exclaimed Fred, in an agony of apprehension, as he saw the prey escaping.

They all broke into a run, and, as they were younger and fleeter, they were soon at the fellow's heels. His whiskey sodden body could not keep up the pace, and as they neared him, he stopped running and turned about savagely.

"What are you fellows chasing me for?" he snarled, a dangerous light in his eyes.

"What are you running away for?" countered Fred.

"None of yer business," the fellow growled. "Now you git, or I'll split yer heads," he snapped as he drew an ugly looking blackjack from his pocket.

For an instant the boys hesitated. Then Fred had an inspiration.

"That's the man, Constable," he cried, looking over the fellow's shoulder. "Nab him."

The man turned in alarm to see who was behind him, and at the same instant Fred dived for his legs in a flying tackle that brought him to the ground. It was a splendid tackle, but the man was big and heavy, and, as they struck the ground, his knee drove into Fred's chest and knocked the breath out of him.

In another second, the other boys could have launched themselves upon the tramp, and their united strength would have been able to hold him down until the arrival of the officer. This had been Fred's idea when he had made the tackle. But his mind worked so much more quickly and his action had been so swift, that they did not at once grasp the situation. And when they did, it was too late.

The tramp, desperate now, got on his feet and rushed at them with his blackjack. Before that deadly weapon they scattered. The next instant, he was running toward the shelter of the woods. Fred still lay gasping for breath, and, not knowing how badly he might have been hurt, his chums rushed to help him to his feet.

He was white and shaken, but had sustained no injury beside the temporary loss of breath. In a few minutes he was as good as ever. But by this time the tramp had made good his escape.

Presently Teddy came up with the constable and a careful search of the woods was made. But it was all to no purpose.

"Hard luck, old scout," condoled Lester, "but that flying tackle of yours was a dandy."

"That knee of his was better," mourned Fred. "It knocked me out good and proper."

"You threw an awful scare into him, anyway," laughed Bill. "I'll bet he's running yet."

"He can't always get away with it," prophesied Teddy. "That's twice. The next time will be the third time and out."

They got back to the school tired and vexed. But their thoughts were turned in another and a welcome direction by a tip given them by Slim Haley on their return.

"Big feed on," he whispered. "Ned Wayland's uncle sent him a ten-dollar gold piece for his birthday, and Ned has blown nearly all of it for a spread in the dormitory to-night."

"Best news I've heard since Hector was a pup," exulted Teddy.

"Ned's the real goods," said Fred. "I wish he had a birthday every month."

It was hard for the occupants of Dormitory Number Three to keep their minds on their lessons during the study period that followed supper, and it was with a whoop and a bang that they rushed into their quarters, when the gong released them from further work that night.

"On with the dance, let joy be unrefined," sang out Teddy, as he flung a pillow at Billy Burton.

"You mean unconfined," corrected Billy.

"I mean just what I said," replied Teddy. "I know the bunch of lowbrows I'm talking to."

"Where have you stacked the eats, Ned?" asked Tom Eldridge, who, though his ankle was still weak, found his appetite as good as ever.

"In here," replied Ned, throwing open his wardrobe door and displaying a host of things that made their mouths water.

"Wow, what a pile!" exclaimed Lester Lee.

"It won't be a pile long, when you cormorants get at it," said Tom.

"He counted them at break of day, And when the sun set, where were they?"

he quoted.

"Officer, he's in again," said Melvin.

"It takes more than a sprained ankle to keep Tom off the poetry stuff," laughed Fred. "Nothing less than an axe will do the business."

"How did you get all this fodder up here?" asked Slim.

"I gave Jimmy, the laundryman, half a dollar for the use of his hand cart," explained Ned, "and he sent his boy up with it, with directions to wait down on the other side of the gymnasium. Then I slipped out between supper time and study period, and smuggled them in without any one's seeing me. The janitor nearly caught me, though. Big Sluper was just turning into the corridor as I got the last thing in and shut the wardrobe door."

"We want to look out for Beansey, though," he warned them. "He's monitor this week, and you know how strict he is."

"Beansey," as the boys called him, because he came from Boston, was a monitor and assistant instructor. He was very lank and solemn, and extremely precise in his manner of speech. In the matter of discipline, he was almost as severe as Dr. Rally himself, and the boys sometimes referred to him as "Hardtack's understudy."

"Who cares for Beansey?" said the irrepressible Teddy. "If he comes, we'll sic the cheese on him. It smells strong enough to down him. What kind is it, Ned? Brie, Roquefort, Limburger?"

"It is pretty strong," admitted Ned. "When I ordered it from the grocer, he turned to one of his clerks and said: 'Unchain Number Eight.'"

The laugh that followed was interrupted by a warning:

"Lay low. Here he comes now."

"Beansey" came in with measured step and walked slowly through the dormitory. His sharp eyes took in everything, but there was nothing to awaken distrust, even in his suspicious soul. All the boys were busily engaged in getting ready for bed, and frequent yawns seemed to indicate that they would be only too glad to get there.

As the door closed behind him, there was a smothered chuckle of exultation.

"He won't be round now for another hour," said Tom, "and what we can do in an hour will be plenty."

"You bet!" said Bill Garwood. "Just watch our smoke."

They slipped the bolt on the door to avoid a sudden surprise. Then they dragged the clothing and mattress off one of the beds, and made a table of the springs. On this they piled, indiscriminately, the things brought from the wardrobe, gloating over the evidence of Ned's generous provision for the "inner man."

"Say!" exclaimed Fred, "why didn't you clean out the whole store while you were about it?"

"Some feast," commented Melvin. "Cheese and pickles and sardines, and pies and chocolates, and ginger ale and soda water, and cake and jelly, and grapes and——"

"Shut up, Mel, and get busy, or you'll get left," said Slim, as he speared a bunch of sardines, an example which the rest needed no urging to follow.

The various good things disappeared like magic before the onslaught of ten hungry boys, and one would have thought, to see them eat, that they had just been rescued after days in an open boat without food or water. And not till the last crumb had disappeared did they lie back in all sorts of lazy attitudes, like so many young anacondas gorged to the limit.

"That old Roman, Lucullus, or whatever his name was, who used to give those feasts, didn't have anything on you, Ned," said Tom. "You've got him skinned to death."

"Who's all right, fellows?" asked Fred.

"Ned Wayland!" came the unanimous shout.

"And now," said Melvin, "it's up to Billy Burton to give us a song. Tune up, Billy."

"Great Scott!" protested Billy, "haven't you fellows any feelings at all? It's cruelty to animals to ask me to sing after such a feed as that."

But they persisted and Billy finally obliged with what the boys called a pathetic little ballad, entitled: "I Didn't Raise My Dog to be a Sausage."

It met with such approval that he gave as an encore: "Mother, Bring the Hammer, There's a Fly on Baby's Head." This "went great," as they say in vaudeville, but despite uproarious applause, the "Sweet Singer of the Wabash" declared that that was his limit for the night.

"A story from Slim!" cried Teddy, and, "A story! A story!" clamored the other boys.

"Ah, what's the use," said Slim, with a gloom that the twinkle in his eyes belied. "You wouldn't believe it, anyway."

"I would," said Melvin solemnly. "Cross my heart and hope to die if I wouldn't."

"Well," began Slim cautiously, "there was a fellow up in Maine once that was spending the winter with a pal of his, trapping in the woods. They were about twenty miles off from the nearest town, and every month or so one of them would have to go to town to lay in a stock of provisions.

"This was a good many years ago, and the wolves were very thick in this part of Maine up near the Canadian border. That winter had been colder than usual, and, as the ground was covered with snow, the wolves were unusually fierce and hungry.

"One day, this fellow I'm telling you about, hitched up his team to the sleigh and drove to town, as their stock was running pretty low. He was kept in town longer than he had expected, and it was late in the afternoon when he started back for his cabin in the woods.

"He had gone about half way, when he heard behind him the howl of a wolf. Then other wolves took it up, and, looking back, he saw some black specks that kept getting bigger and bigger. He whipped up his horses, and they did the best they could, because the wolves frightened them just as much as they did the driver. But they had traveled a good many miles that day, and the wolves kept getting nearer.

"The man had some flour and bacon and other things in the sleigh, and he kept throwing these out as he went along, hoping it would stop the wolves until he could reach his cabin. But he soon found that this was no go, and they'd surely get him, unless he tried something else.

"The only things left in the sleigh now were an empty hogshead, a cask of nails and a hatchet.

"By this time, he had reached a small lake that he had to cross. It was frozen solid, with ice several feet thick.

"By the time he had driven into the middle of this, the wolves were close behind and coming fast. He jumped out of the sleigh and cut the traces, so that the horses might have a chance to get away. Then he threw the nails and hatchet and empty hogshead out on the ice. He turned the hogshead upside down, crept in under and let it down over him. He hadn't any more than done this, before the wolves were all around him.

"But he was safe enough for the time. He had the little cask of nails to sit on, and he was sure that he could hold the hogshead down so that they couldn't overturn it.

"They came sniffing around and trying to stick their paws under, and suddenly that gave him an idea."

Here Slim looked slyly out of the corner of his eye at his companions. They were listening breathlessly, hanging on every word.

"He took the hatchet," Slim resumed, "and broke open the cask of nails. The next time a paw came under he drove a nail through it, fastening it to the ice. He did this to the next and the next, until there was a circle of paws under the hogshead. Then he chopped off the paws and the wolves limped away howling.

"Then he slid the hogshead along to a smooth place in the ice, and did the same thing all over again. There seemed to be no end of wolves, and he kept moving on from place to place till all his nails were used up.

"At last, he didn't hear any more noise, and, lifting up the edge of the hogshead, he saw that it was morning, and all the wolves were gone. He got out, and made his way on foot to the cabin, where he found that the horses had got home safe, and his friend was just setting out to look for him. They went back together and counted the paws, and there were just——"

He paused a moment.

"How many?" asked Billy Burton.

"Seven thousand nine hundred and ninety-six," said Slim impressively. Then, as the boys gasped, "seven thousand nine hundred and ninety-six," he repeated firmly.

They rose to smite him.

"Of all the yarn spinners this side of kingdom come!" burst out Ned Wayland.

"There you go," protested Slim plaintively, "you're always pickin' on me.

"It does seem quite a lot," he admitted judicially, "but if it wasn't true, why should they give those exact figures, seven thousand nine hundred and ninety-six? It shows they were conscientious and careful. Now, a liar might have said eight thousand and let it go at that. He might have——"

Just then there came a knock at the door.



CHAPTER XX

A RATTLING GAME

The lights went out in a second.

"Great Scott!" whispered Melvin. "It's Beansey. I didn't think it was anywhere near time for him to be around again."

Again came the knock, a little more impatient and imperative this time.

"Open the door," came a voice that they had no difficulty in recognizing as that of "Beansey" Walton.

The boys huddled together, scarcely venturing to breathe.

"Who is there?" drawled out Melvin, in a voice that he tried to make as sleepy as possible.

"It's me, Mr. Walton," was the response.

Melvin had an inspiration.

"Not on your life!" he shouted. "You're one of those lowbrows from Number Two trying to play a trick on us. Mr. Walton wouldn't say: 'It's me.' He'd have said, 'It is I.' Now, go 'way and let us sleep. We're on to you, all right."

There was a moment of awful silence and then they heard the steps of their visitor going softly and swiftly down the hall.

The boys were nearly bursting with laughter at Melvin's audacity, and when they felt sure that it had really succeeded, they broke out in a roar.

"And it worked!" shrieked Slim, rolling over and over. "By jiminy, it really worked! Mel, you're a genius. I take off my hat to you."

"You covered yourself with glory that time, old man," said Fred, as soon as he could speak for laughter. "Beansey will never get over it. Can't you see his face, as he faded away down the hall? The fellows in the other dormitories will be green with envy when they hear about it."

"It was nip and tuck," grinned Melvin. "I just took a chance that Beansey would rather let us go than to own up that he'd made a slip in grammar. But even now, we're not safe. He might think it over and come back. Let's get a hustle on and remove these evidences of crime."

In three minutes more, everything was set to rights, and the boys slipped in between their covers, theoretically to sleep, but actually to lie awake and chuckle for a long time, at the way they had "put one over" on the monitor.

The day for the football game with Lake Forest was rapidly drawing nearer. Under the steady practice and hard work through which Granger put his team, it was swiftly rounding into shape.

Although at first the other boys had the advantage over Fred of having played a long time together, and of knowing just what to expect from one another in any crisis of the game, his quick mind and keen ambition soon put him on a level with them in that respect, and he had developed into one of the mainstays of the team.

None had appreciated this more than Tom Eldridge, whose place Fred had taken at fullback, but there was not a trace of envy in the way he stood around the side lines, leaning on a stick, and applauding every brilliant play of his successor.

"You're a star, Fred," he said to him one day after an especially sparkling bit of strategy. "You can play rings around the Lake Forest fullback. And he's no slouch, either."

"You must put me on to his style," said Fred; and together they worked out a scheme of offence and defence that they hoped would bring victory to Rally Hall.

There was a good deal of anxiety as the day of the game drew near. The last time the elevens had met, Lake Forest had won by two touchdowns, and it was reported that they were fully as fast this year.

"They've got a cracking good team and no mistake," admitted Melvin. "They're a bit heavier than we are in the line, but I think we have it on them in the back field. But it'll be a fight for blood from the first kickoff, and I don't look for a big score, whichever side wins."

Professor Raymond, who himself had been a crack player on his own college eleven, worked hard to get the team into first-class shape. He had been much worried by the accident to Tom, but, as he watched the work of Fred, he soon reached the conclusion that the team had been strengthened rather than weakened.

So that it was with strong hopes of a successful outcome that Rally Hall went into the fight on the day of the great game.

It was a beautiful day, with just enough snap and coolness in the air to make it perfect for football. The game was to take place on the Rally Hall grounds, and Big Sluper, the janitor, with his assistants, had outdone themselves in getting the gridiron into fine condition.

Long before the time set for the game, a great crowd had gathered. Of course, every member of the school was there, ready to yell for his favorites, and, in addition, everybody in Green Haven who had a drop of sporting blood in his veins had journeyed out to see the gridiron battle.

Lake Forest had sent down a large crowd of rooters with the team, and while, of course, they were in the minority, they were chock full of enthusiasm, and prepared to make up in noise what they lacked in numbers.

"How do you feel, Fred?" asked Melvin, as they were getting into their togs.

"Like a fighting cock," replied Fred, doing an impromptu jig. "If I felt any better, I'd be afraid of myself."

"Great!" said Melvin. "I feel the same way myself. We'll sure bring home the bacon."

"Here they come!"

There was a roar of greeting, when the Lake Forest team trotted out and began passing and falling on the ball. But the roar became thunderous when the Rally Hall boys came into view.

"They're sure giving us a royal send off," commented Billy Burton, "and it won't do to disappoint them. We've simply got to win."