Produced by Al Haines

Tom Fairfield's Pluck and Luck

Or

Working to Clear His Name

BY

ALLEN CHAPMAN

AUTHOR OF "TOM FAIRFIELD'S SCHOOLDAYS," "TOM FAIRFIELD AT SEA," "THE DAREWELL CHUMS SERIES," "BOYS OF PLUCK SERIES," ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

PUBLISHERS

Copyrighted 1913, by

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

TOM FAIRFIELD'S PLUCK AND LUCK

CONTENTS

CHAPTER
I. AN INDIGNATION MEETING II. BRAZEN DEFIANCE III. THE ADVICE OF BRUCE IV. HOW SAM TOLD IT V. TOM DECIDES VI. ON THE GRIDIRON VII. A CROSS-COUNTRY RUN VIII. LOST IN THE WOODS IX. AN ANGRY FARMER X. A HAY STACK FIRE XI. HOT WORK XII. ACCUSATIONS XIII. THE POISONED HORSES XIV. SAM HELLER'S EVIDENCE XV. TOM'S SILENCE XVI. TOM SEEKS CLEWS XVII. THE EMPTY BOTTLE XVIII. ON THE TRAIL XIX. DISAPPOINTMENT XX. MORE SEEKING XXI. IN THE STORM XXII. THE RAGGED MAN XXIII. THE PURSUIT XXIV. CORNERED XXV. EXPLANATIONS

TOM FAIRFIELD'S PLUCK AND LUCK

CHAPTER I
AN INDIGNATION MEETING

"Well, well, by all that's good! If it isn't Tom Fairfield back again!
How are you, old man?"

"Oh, fine and dandy! My! but it's good to see the old place again, Morse," and the tall, good-looking lad whom the other had greeted so effusively held out his hand—a firm, brown hand that told of a summer spent in the open.

"Any of our boys back, Morse?" went on Tom Fairfield, as he looked around the campus of Elmwood Hall. "I thought I'd meet Bert Wilson or Jack Fitch on my way up, but I missed 'em. How are you, anyhow?"

"Fit as a fiddle. Say, you're looking as if you had enjoyed your vacation."

"I sure did! You're not looking bad yourself. Able to sit up and take nourishment, I guess."

"You've struck it, Tom. But what did you do with yourself all summer?"

"Jack, Bert and another chum of mine went camping, and, believe me, we had some times!"

"So I heard. I had a letter from Jack the other day. He mentioned something about a secret of the mill, the crazy hermit and all that sort. Say, but you did go some."

"That's right. It was great while it lasted. How about you?" and Tom looked at his friend, Morse Denton, anxious to hear about his good times.

"Oh, I went with my folks to the shore. Had a pretty good summer—motorboating, canoeing with the girls, and all that. But I got a bit tired of it. I came back early to get some of the football material into shape for this fall," and Morse Denton, who had been captain of the Freshman eleven, and who was later elected as regular captain, looked at Tom, as if sizing him up as available pigskin material.

"Well, I guess none of our crowd has shown up yet," went on Tom. "I fancied I'd be a day or so early, as I wanted to have a good pick of rooms. Got yours, yet?"

"Sure thing. I attended to that first. But there are some fine ones left. Come on over to Hollywood Hall, and we'll see what'll suit you. Try and get one next to mine if you can. Are Bert and Jack going to room with you?"

"They are if we can get a place that will hold us."

"That isn't as easy as it sounds with the way you fellows do things.
But there's one nice big study near mine."

"Then I'll just annex it. Say! But it's good to be back. The old place hasn't changed any," and Tom looked around admiringly at the groups of buildings that made up Elmwood Hall. His gaze strolled over the green campus, which would soon be alive with students, and then to the baseball diamond and the football gridiron, on which latter field the battle of the pigskin over the chalk marks would soon be waged.

"Well, they've done some painting and fixing up during vacation," said Morse, as he linked his arm in that of Tom and the two walked on together toward Hollywood Hall, the official dormitory of the Sophomore class. "The gridiron has been leveled off a bit and some new seats put up. Land knows we needed 'em! We'll have some great games this year. You'll play, of course, Tom?"

"Maybe—if I'm asked."

"Oh, you'll be asked all right," laughed Morse. "Did you expect Bert and Jack would be here?"

"I didn't know but what they might. I haven't seen 'em for the last two weeks. After we closed our camp Bert went up in the country, where his folks were stopping, and Jack took a little coasting trip on a fishing boat. We were to meet here, but they must be delayed. However, school doesn't open for a day or so. But I want to get my place in shape."

"Good idea. That's what I did. Well, here we are," Morse added as the two came opposite a large building. "Let's go in and see what Old Balmy has in stock."

They advanced into the dormitory, being met in the lower hall by a pleasant-faced German who greeted them with:

"Ach! Goot afternoons, gentlemans. Und it iss rooms vat you are seeking?"

"Rooms it is, Herr Balmgester," replied Morse. "My friend, Tom
Fairfield, here, wants that big one next to mine."

"Vat! Dot large room for one lad?"

"Oh, I've got two friends coming," explained Tom. "I had a double room over in the Ball and Bat," he added, referring to the Freshman dormitory, "but there'll be three of us here."

"Ach! Dot iss goot! Two boys makes troubles," and the German monitor of the Sophomore dormitory held up two fingers. "Three is besser—vat one does not vant to do ven der oder two does makes like a safety-valve; ain't it yes?" and he laughed ponderously.

"Oh, we'll be good," promised Tom, with a wink at Morse. "Let's see the room."

It proved all that could be desired in the way of a study and sleeping apartment for three healthy, fun-loving lads, and Tom at once signed for it, feeling sure that his two chums, when they did arrive, would approve of his choice.

"Well, now that's done, come on into town, and I'll treat you to ice cream," invited Morse, for though it was late in September the day was warm. "I'm in funds now," went on the football captain, "and I may not be—later," he added with a grim smile.

"Oh, I don't know," said Tom, hesitatingly. "I rather thought I'd hang around. Maybe Jack or Bert will come, and—"

"They can't get here until the five o'clock train, now," declared Morse. "You've got time enough to go to town and be back again. Come ahead."

"All right," assented Tom. "Wait until I get the porter to fetch my trunk from the station."

The check having been given to the porter, Tom and his chum strolled toward the trolley line that would take them into the small city of Elmwood.

"Here comes the human interrogation point!" exclaimed Morse, when they were almost at the trolley line.

"I thought he wasn't coming back to school," remarked Tom, looking around.

"He did say he wasn't, but I guess his folks made him. He wanted to branch out for himself and be a lawyer, I believe. He sure would be great on cross-examining witnesses with the way he asks questions," finished Morse with a laugh.

A small lad was approaching the two friends on the run, and, as he neared them, he called out:

"Hello, Morse! Say, Tom Fairfield, when did you get in? Did you have
a good time? I hear you went camping and discovered a hidden treasure.
Did it amount to much? How much did you get? Where's Jack and Bert?
Are you going in for football? Where are you rooming?"

Tom and Morse came to a stop. They eyed each other solemnly. Then Tom said gravely:

"Isn't it a shame; and he's so young, too!"

"Yes," assented Morse with a mournful shake of his head. "I understand that his case is hopeless. They are going to provide a keeper for him."

"Say, look here, you fellows!" exclaimed the small lad. "What's eating you, anyhow? What do you mean by that line of talk?"

"Oh, he heard us!" gasped Tom, in pretended confusion. "I didn't think he had any rational moments. But he has. There, Georgie," he went on soothingly. "Go lie down in the shade, and you'll be all right in a little while. Do you suffer much?"

"Say, what's the joke?" demanded George Abbot, the small lad referred to. "Can't I ask you a question, without being insulted and called crazy?"

"Sure you can, Why," replied Tom, giving the lad the nick-name bestowed on him because of his many interrogations. "Of course you can ask one question, or even two, but you can't fire broadsides at us in that fashion. Remember that we have weak hearts."

"And our constitutions are not strong," added Morse.

"Oh, you be hanged!" murmured George. "If you can't—"

"Oh, come along!" invited Tom, catching him by the arm. "We're going to town. It's Morse's treat. Yes, George, I did have a bang-up time on my vacation. I'll tell you all about it later."

The three were soon on a trolley car and, a little later, they had reached the town, heading for a drug store where ice cream sodas were a specialty.

"It goes to the right spot!" exclaimed Tom gratefully, as he finished what was set before him. "What do you say to a moving picture show? It will pass the time until the last train gets in. Then for some fun to-night, if Jack and Bert show up."

The others were willing, and soon, in company with some other Elmwood Hall students whom they met, the boys went to the place of the moving pictures.

"Well, it's almost time for the choo-choo cars to sand-paper in," remarked Tom a little later, looking at his watch as he and Morse paced the depot platform.

"Yes, there she blows," remarked his companion, as a distant whistle sounded.

"There they are!"

"There's Tom!"

"Hello, you old skate!"

"You got here ahead of us!"

"And there's Morse Denton!"

"'Rah for Elmwood Hall!"

"I see Joe Rooney."

"Yes, and there's Lew Bentfield."

"Hello, Bruce! Bruce Bennington," yelled Tom.

"Hello Tom! Didn't expect to see me back; did you?" and a tall, well-browned lad, somewhat older than the others, leaped from the still-moving train, and grasped our hero's hand.

The other remarks, preceding Thorn's, had come so fast and in such confusion that it is impossible to declare who said which or what. Then, when Tom had greeted Bruce, the Senior who owed so much to him—a Senior who had returned for a post-graduate course—our hero spied some others of his chums on the train.

"Jack! Jack Fitch!" he yelled. "Hello, Bert—Bert Wilson! I've been waiting for you!"

"There he is! There's Tom!" yelled Jack, hauling in the head of his chum Bert from one window, only to poke his own cranium out of another. "Hurray!"

There was a rush of many feet, a tossing about of valises and suit cases, the hoarse cries of hack drivers and expressmen, and, above all, the greetings of the students, the smack of meeting palms and the pistol-like reports of clappings on backs and shoulders.

"Three cheers for Elmwood Hall!" cried someone. They were given, and a
"Tiger" was called for, followed by the school yell.

"Say, Tom," began Jack Fitch, when he could get his breath. "What about a room? Let's slip off and get one before this mob takes 'em all."

"Go easy, son; go easy," advised Tom calmly. "All is provided for. Just tell the man to send your luggage to Hollywood Hall, and all will be well. Same to you, Bert. I've got a swell apartment for us three, near where Morse hangs out."

"Good for you!" cried Bert.

"Trust Tom to look out for the sleeps and eats," laughed Jack. "Oh, but it's good to be back!"

"Just what I said," declared Tom. "There's lots of good times in prospect."

Together the four chums, followed by others of their acquaintance, moved toward the Sophomore dormitory. The five o'clock train had brought in many students, all of whom were in a hurry to pick out their rooms.

"Say, this is a swell place all right," declared Bert, a little later, when Tom had ushered his two chums into the cozy apartment he had reserved.

"All to the plush furniture," added Jack. "You're all right, Tom. How is it for getting in after hours?"

"Fine. It's right near a rear stairway. Oh, I saw to that all right.
And the monitor is Old Balmy—we can work him easy."

"Fine!" cried Bert. "Now let's get things straightened out, and unpack some of our duds," for their baggage had arrived ere they had done admiring their new quarters.

"We're Sophs now—don't forget that," advised Tom. "No more Freshmen!"

"And we can do some hazing on our own account," added Jack. "Oh, glorious!"

There came a knock on the door.

"Come!" invited Tom.

The portal swung open to admit the form and features of little George
Abbot.

"Are you all here? When did you and Bert come? Is there any——"

"Stop!" thundered Tom, catching up a heavy baseball glove. "Halt in your tracks, or it will be the worse for you! One more question, and—"

"You wait until you hear this one," said George calmly. "Maybe you don't want to, though," he added mysteriously.

"What is it?" asked Jack, struck by something in the manner of the human question box, and Tom lowered the glove.

"I was going to ask if you'd heard the news," went on George. "But if you don't want to——"

"Go ahead, Why," invited Bert. "I'll listen, anyhow. What's the news?"

"Sam Heller and Nick Johnson just arrived in a big touring car. Sam says it's his."

"Sam Heller here?"

"And Nick Johnson?"

"In a touring car?"

Tom, Jack and Bert asked the questions in turn. They fairly glared at George. The latter, satisfied with the impression he had produced, sank into an easy chair.

"They're here," he went on. "I just saw 'em come, and they're headed this way."

"Sam and Nick going to room in the same dormitory with us!" gasped Bert.

"After what they did?" asked Jack.

"Helping to capture and hold us fellows prisoners," said Tom bitterly.

"We won't stand for it!" declared Bert vigorously.

"I should say not!" came from Jack indignantly. "We will have to do something—protest—make a class matter of it. After what happened at the old mill, for those snobs to have the nerve to come back to Elmwood Hall. Why—"

"It is rather raw," interrupted Tom. "What shall we do?"

"Let's go out and confront 'em," suggested Bert. "If they have the nerve to meet us face to face—well, I don't believe they will have—that's all."

"Come on!" urged Jack, and he caught hold of Tom's arm and led him forth to face their common enemies. The meeting of the chums, that had started off so jollily, was now a session of indignation.

CHAPTER II

BRAZEN DEFIANCE

Talking over the unexpected news George Abbot had brought to them, and planning what they would say to the two lads who had done so much to injure them, our hero and his chums hurried out of the dormitory and across the school campus.

"Where did you see 'em, George?" asked Jack, looking at the small youth who had such fondness for asking questions.

"They just got in—fine big auto—they're over at 'Pop' Swab's soda emporium, filling up on ginger ale, and poking fun at some of the new fellows."

"Just like 'em," murmured Tom. "We'll do something more than poke fun at 'em when we see 'em."

"That's what," added Jack.

"Maybe they aren't going to stay—they may have just come here for a bluff, and are going away again," suggested Bert.

"How about that, George?" asked Tom, and the small lad, who was too much engrossed with the possibility of some excitement presently to ask his usual number of questions, replied:

"I guess they're going to stay all right. I heard Sam tell Nick to hurry up and pick out a room in Hollywood Hall, or all the best ones would be gone."

"By Jove!" ejaculated Jack. "They mean to stay all right!"

"If we let 'em," added Bert significantly.

"Come on," urged Tom. "If we're going to have a run-in with 'em, let's have it in the open, before they get in the dormitory."

And while our hero and his chums are thus hastening to meet the lads who had played such a mean trick on them that summer may I be permitted a few pages in which to make my new readers a little better acquainted with Tom Fairfield?

Tom, aged about sixteen, was the son of Mr. and Mrs. Brokaw Fairfield. He lived in the village of Briartown, on the Pine river, and had much sport running his motorboat on that stream.

In the first volume of this series, entitled, "Tom Fairfield's Schooldays," I related how Tom's father and mother had to go to Australia to claim some property left by a relative. As it was not convenient to take Tom along he was sent to school—Elmwood Hall—where he boarded and studied.

Tom at once made friends and enemies, as any lad would. But his enemies were few, the two principal ones being Sam Heller and Nick Johnson, and they cordially hated our hero. Tom's chief friend was Jack Fitch, with whom he roomed, though Bert Wilson, George Abbot, Joe Rooney, Lew Bentfield, Ed. Ward, Henry Miller and a host of others were on intimate terms with him. I might also mention Bruce Bennington, a Senior when Tom reached Elmwood Hall, and with whom Tom soon became friendly.

Dr. Pliny Meredith was headmaster at Elmwood. He was sometimes called "Merry" because, as Jack Fitch used to say, he was so glum. But he was a gentleman. Not so Professor Skeel, who was a taskmaster. It was against Mr. Skeel that Tom led a revolt because of the professor's meanness in Latin class.

How the boys went on a strike, how they were made prisoners, how they escaped in a great storm, burned the effigy of Mr. Skeel at the flag pole, and how Tom won the strike—all this is set down in the first volume. There is also told how Tom saved Bruce Bennington from disgrace, and was the means of Mr. Skeel fleeing in fear of discovery.

In the second book, entitled, "Tom Fairfield at Sea," I told how our hero learned that the vessel on which his parents were sailing from Australia had been wrecked. He at once set out to make the long voyage to try to find some news of them or, if possible, to rescue them.

The steamer on which Tom sailed was wrecked, and he and some sailors, together with a little boy, floated for some time on a derelict with which the Silver Star had collided. On the derelict, most unexpectedly, came Professor Skeel, who was on his way to Honolulu when the accident happened.

The dreary days of suffering oh the derelict, and in an open boat, the meanness of Mr. Skeel and how Tom and his companions were finally rescued, is all set down in the second book of this series. Tom finally reached Australia and, setting out again, was just in time to rescue his parents from the savages of one of the South Pacific islands.

Tom reached home in time to go back to school and take his second-year examinations, which he passed, thus becoming a Sophomore.

Then came the long summer vacation, and as Tom had had enough of travel he decided to go to the woods. In the third volume, called "Tom Fairfield in Camp," I told of his experiences in the forest. With him went Jack Fitch, Bert Wilson and a Briartown lad named Dick Jones.

Almost at the first Tom and his chums ran into a mystery. Near where they pitched their tents there was an old mill where there was said to be a treasure hidden. But an old hermit who owned the mill was seeking for the treasure, and he was not the most pleasant character in the world. At the very start he threatened the boys and tried to drive them from the woods.

But they decided to have a hunt for the treasure. It did not add to their pleasure to learn that Mr. Skeel, who had returned from Honolulu, was also camping near the mysterious mill, and, most unexpectedly our friends also learned that Sam Heller and Nick Johnson were also in the same woods.

Tom and his friends had many experiences in camp, and with the old hermit. Finally their motorboat was taken, and they were in sore straits. But still they kept after the treasure.

Then Bert, Jack and Dick mysteriously disappeared from camp. Tom suspected Mr. Skeel, and the two school bullies, Sam and Nick, of having had some sort of a hand in the kidnapping of his chums.

How he traced them, recovered his boat, and found the secret passage into the old mill, you will find told in my third book. Also how Tom accidentally discovered the hidden room and the place where the treasure was concealed. Mr. Skeel and the two Elmwood lads, who had held Jack, Dick and Bert prisoners, fled in alarm, and the old hermit, restored to his right mind through the finding of his wealth, lived a peaceful life thereafter.

Once the secret of the mill was discovered, Tom and his chums had an enjoyable time in camp. They remained until it was almost time for school to begin, and then returned to their several homes.

And now, once more, they were together in Elmwood Hall, and, most unexpectedly, had come the news of the return of the two bullies, Sam and Nick. It was startling news, in a way, for, after the mean fashion in which the two cronies had treated Tom's chums, when they were held prisoners in the old mill, Tom scarcely believed that Sam and Nick would dare show their faces at Elmwood Hall again.

"And yet they're here," said our hero, as he and the others hurried on across the broad campus.

"And they're going to stay, if what George says is true," added Jack.

"Oh, it's true enough," declared the questioning lad.

"There they are!" suddenly exclaimed Bert Wilson, pointing toward a small building just outside of the school property. It was a shack where "Pop" Swab sold soda and "pop," from which he took his name.

"Yes, that's them all right," assented Tom.

"And some car they have," added Jack. "I wonder where they got it?"

"They won't have it long, if they treat it as recklessly as that," commented Bert, for the two lads having leaped into the auto, Sam threw in the gears so clumsily that the machine was stalled, with a grinding that did not augur well for the mechanism.

It was evident that the two cronies, having satisfied their thirst, were about to drive on, but Sam's error made it necessary for him to get out to crank the car again. This gave our friends a chance to come up to them.

Sam had his back to them, as he bent over to take hold of the crank, but something Nick said in a low voice caused him to turn around. Then he saw Tom and the others.

There was something In Tom's manner that caused Sam to take an attitude of defence, though our hero had no intention of coming to blows with the bully.

The oncoming party of lads came to a halt a short distance from the auto, and Sam, straightening up, surveyed them, a shade of wonder, not unmixed with apprehension, passing over his face. Nick, sitting in the car, openly sneered.

"So you've come back," spoke Tom cuttingly.

"Of course we have," answered Sam, breathing a little easier, as he saw that he was in no immediate danger.

"And we're going to stay," added Nick with a laugh.

"You are?" Jack almost yelled.

"We certainly are," was the answer. "This is a free country, you know; and we've paid for our board. See you later, fellows. Crank her up, Sam!"

The brazen effrontery of the two amazed our friends. They had not believed that the two cronies would come back. And that they would dare remain, after what they had done, seemed incredible.

"Are you in earnest?" asked Bert, raising his voice to be heard above the thundering exhaust of the auto which Sam started.

"Of course we are," declared Sam calmly, as he took his seat. "What's the matter with you fellows, anyhow? Why shouldn't we stay?"

"You know why you shouldn't stay!" cried Tom, shaking his finger at Sam and Nick. "After the mean trick you played on Bert and Jack, standing guard over them in the old mill, in league with that scoundrel Skeel—giving Jack and Bert only bread and water—after that you dare come back here and expect to be treated decently? Well, you're expecting too much, that's all I've got to say! We'll make Elmwood Hall too hot to hold you! You'll live in Coventry all the while you're here. You won't get a decent——"

"Oh, get out of my way, Fairfield, or I'll run you down!" snapped Sam, as he threw in the gear and released the clutch, and, had our hero not leaped back, he would have been struck by the heavy touring car.

"Well, of all the gigantic, unmitigated nerve!" gasped Jack, as he stared at the swiftly moving car. "That is the limit!"

CHAPTER III

THE ADVICE OF BRUCE

The silence amid the group of Tom's friends, punctuated at first by the exhaust from the car, was finally broken by Bert Wilson, who asked:

"Well, Tom, what do you think of that?"

"I don't know what to think," was the answer, given slowly. "It gets me!"

"And it does all of us," added Jack. "In the first place, I never thought Sam and Nick would have the nerve to come back, but since they had, I surely thought they'd cave in when they saw we meant business."

"So did I," agreed Bert. "But since they haven't, what's to be done?"

"There's only one thing," decided Jack. "We've got to expose 'em, that's what!"

"Sure!" cried George Abbot, getting a bit excited. "Let the whole school know what they did to you, and I guess that will end things for them at Elmwood Hall."

"It seems to be the only way," agreed Tom. "Of course I'm out of it, in a way, for they didn't keep me locked up In the old mill, with nothing but bread and water. But they did Bert and Jack, and that's the same thing. And there's Dick to be thought of. Of course he isn't an Elmwood lad, though he may be soon, for he wants to come here. But I feel that I ought to take his part."

"Sure!" chorused Jack and Bert, while the former added grimly: "We're on the job, and can look after ourselves. You can represent Dick, Tom, and we'll form a combination."

"To run them out of this school!" exclaimed Bert with energy.

"That being the case," went on Tom, "we'll have to consider the ways and means of doing it. Of course Nick, being a Junior, isn't in the same class with Sam. If it had been two Juniors who acted the way those fellow did I don't know that we would have such a kick coming, but when a member of your own class turns against you it's time to do something!"

"Hurray!" cried George. "What are you going to do, fellows? Will you let me in on it? Will you haze 'em? Say, you'll let me have part in it; won't you?"

"Hold on, George!" begged Tom with a smile. "Just shut off your gas, throw back your spark, and put on the brakes. You're skidding a bit."

"Aw, say, I want to be in on it," begged the small chap earnestly.

"Oh, you will be all right," Jack assured him.

"The whole Sophomore class will be in it when we give those fellows the lesson they need."

"I'd—I'd like to———" began Bert energetically as he clenched his fists and look at the departing car, which was now almost hidden in a cloud of dust. "I'm going to———"

"Hold on," broke in Tom soothingly. "Let me prescribe for you, Bertie my boy," and taking his arm he steered his chum around and toward the little shack where Pop Swab held forth.

As they filed into the little building two other school lads passed by.

"What's going on?" asked Bruce Bennington, one of the twain.

"Oh, it's Tom Fairfield and some of his chums," answered Morse Denton.
"I don't know just what the row is, but I heard that Sam Heller and
Nick Johnson played some kind of a mean trick on Tom and Bert and Jack
this summer. I don't just know the particulars."

"That's so," agreed Bruce. "I did hear something about it. Feel like having some pop?"

"Not now, and if any of those fellows expect to make the eleven this fall I'll have to make them cut it out."

"Right! How's football coming on?"

"Oh, I've got some good material, and I expect more when the new fellows begin to arrive."

"Going to play Tom Fairfield?"

"I sure am, if he'll train properly, and I think he will. I want him for one of the backs. He's a sure ground gainer, quick on his feet, he holds the ball fast and he can kick well."

"I hope he makes good," went on Bruce. "Well, I'm going to cut away.
I want to see the doctor, and arrange about my studies."

The two strolled over the green campus, arm in arm, and they had hardly gone a dozen steps before, from the little store of Pop Swab, there come pouring Tom and his friends, all talking at once.

"That's what we'll do!"

"A class matter of it—sure!"

"We'll work the Coventry game to the limit!"

"And if it comes to a fight——"

"They'll get all they want!"

These were only a few of the remarks that came to the ears of Bruce and
Morse.

"Something doing back there," remarked the football captain, nodding his head toward the rear.

"Yes," agreed Bruce, "and I don't like it, either."

"Why not? It's only Tom and his chums talking over what they're going to do to Sam and Nick, I expect."

"Yes, and that's why I don't like it."

"Why not?" asked Morse.

"It may have a bad effect on the whole school. Class disputes always do. If a class doesn't hang together———"

"They'll hang———" began Morse, about to perpetrate the old joke of "hanging separately," when Bruce laughingly interrupted with the remark:

"Now that'll do you. There's a five spot fine for using that classic so early in the season. But you know what I mean. It won't do to have class dissension."

"No, you're right. But maybe it will work itself out."

While Bruce and Morse went their ways, Tom and his chums, talking excitedly, went to Tom's room. He had some new rods and a gun he wanted to exhibit, but, most of all, he wanted to give his friends the whole history of the summer's adventures.

"Now go ahead," invited Joe Rooney, when they were all seated, more or less comfortably, on the beds and chairs in the room of the three chums. "Let's have the whole yarn."

And Tom began, telling the story of the secret of the old mill. He had not proceeded far ere there came a knock on the door.

"Come!" invited Tom, after a moment's hesitation, during which he recalled that, as the term had not officially started, there could be no danger from prowling monitors, or suspicious professors. The door opened and Bruce Bennington entered.

"Hello, Bruce, old stock!" greeted Tom, rising and holding out his hand. "Glad to see you! Here, some of you fellows get up and give one of our betters a seat."

"Not a one! Not a one!" exclaimed Bruce, holding up a protesting hand.
"The floor's good enough for me."

But several chairs being offered by admiring Sophomores, who knew how to appreciate one of the best-loved lads in Elmwood Hall, Bruce accepted a seat.

"Go ahead, Tom," he suggested. "Don't let me interrupt the festivities. I don't want to be the skeleton at the feast."

"Oh, I was only telling the fellows how Sam and Nick acted this summer," proceeded our hero. "And, as I was saying," he resumed, "they captured Bert, Jack and my friend, from home, Dick Jones.

"They sneaked up on 'em while I was away from camp, mauled 'em something fierce, and tied 'em up. Then they held em prisoners for several days———"

"On bread and water," interrupted Jack. "Don't forget that, Tommy my boy!"

"That's right," added Bert with a sorrowful sigh at the recollection.
"I was nearly starved before you rescued us."

"And that's what they did," concluded Tom, telling the final details. "Now the question is, what had we better do to such cads when they come back to school and expect to be treated decently? What ought we to do?"

There was silence for a moment, and then Bruce Bennington asked quietly:

"May I say something?"

"Surest thing you know!" came promptly from Tom.

"Then I'm going to give you a bit or advice," went on the older lad. "You may follow it, or not, but I feel it's my duty to offer it. And it's this. I've heard the whole story now, and I know how you fellows must feel. But my advice is—to do nothing at all to Sam and Nick."

CHAPTER IV

HOW SAM TOLD IT

For a few seconds there was silence in Tom's room. All eyes were fixed on Bruce Bennington, but the latter bore the scrutiny well. Then came gasps of surprise, and one or two mutterings. Bruce heard them, and smiled.

"Come!" he invited with a laugh. "Out with it. I know what you are thinking. Speak up, Tom—and the rest of you."

"Did you—did you really mean that?" asked Tom slowly, "or was it a joke?"

"It wasn't a joke, certainly. I'm in earnest," and the smile faded from the face of Bruce Bennington.

"But what do you mean?" insisted Tom. "After the way those fellows treated Jack and Bert—to say nothing of having practically stolen my motorboat, together with the help of the old hermit and Mr. Skeel—not to do anything to 'em!"

"That's it, Tom. Let it drop, is my advice."

"But why? I can't see why, Bruce."

"Because it will make a heap of trouble in the school, that's why. Look here, Tom. You know you and Sam, to say nothing of Nick, haven't been on good terms from the start; have you?"

"No, but it was Sam's fault. I had no quarrel with him."

"I know that. I'm not saying but what you're in the right. But it's the effect of the thing I'm looking at. Tom, do you want to see two factions in the Sophomore class? Two bunches of fellows, one striving against the other? Do you?"

"No, I don't know as I do. But once we get rid of Sam, Nick will take himself off, too, and then everything will be fine."

"I'm not so sure of that. You might drive Sam out of Elmwood, but I doubt it. And look here, Tom. You know there's going to be a big Freshman class this year."

"So I heard, but what has that got to do with it?"

"Lots. You know, without my telling you, that the Sophs and Freshies are mortal enemies. There'll be hazing to do—whisper it of course—and with the Sophomore class divided against itself, where are you second-year chaps going to be when the Freshies cut up—let me ask you that?"

"How will the class be divided?" inquired Jack.

"Why, if you make this fight against Sam you can't expect his friends to hob-nob with you when it comes to hectoring the Freshies."

"Sam hasn't any friends!" burst out Bert.

"Oh, don't you fool yourself," said Bruce quickly. "Sam has money, and no fellow with cash need be without friends—or at least fellows who call themselves such. Then, too, he's got a big car I understand, and that will go a great ways toward making friends for him. Besides, there's Nick to count on. His friends will be Sam's, and Nick has quite a few, as he isn't such a bully as Sam is. Nick's a Junior now, and the Juniors will side with the Freshmen.

"Now I don't want to be a croaker, or a death's head at this gay party, but you mark my words, if you carry this fight against Sam to the limit it will mean a heap of trouble for the school. And, more than that, the Sophomore class will be torn apart.

"Don't do it!" pleaded Bruce, arising in his earnestness, and addressing Tom's chums. "Let it drop, or, if you feel that you have to get even, do it some other way. I know it's galling to sit still and suffer—but think of the school. You owe something to Elmwood Hall! Besides, I think you'd have your own troubles in getting unanimous class action against Sam."

"How so?" asked Tom quickly. "As soon as I tell the fellows how mean he acted they'll vote to send him to Coventry at once, I'll wager. Not a man will speak to him."

"Don't be so sure," said Bruce quietly. "Tom, I'm going to try a little experiment, if you'll allow me. I guess all you fellows know that I'd stick up for my rights as hard as any one; don't you?"

"Sure!" came the quick chorus.

"And I wouldn't stand for any ill-treatment of my friends, or my class. But I put the school above my own feelings, and my class next. And you ought to, also, Tom. If you feel that you have to take it out of Sam and Nick, do it—er—well—say privately," and Bruce whispered the word with a smile.

There was a murmur of understanding.

"But what's the experiment?" asked Tom, curious to know what his friend would propose.

"It's this," answered Bruce. "If I prove to you that you'd have trouble in rallying the whole Sophomore class under your banner, Tom, to take some action against Sam, will you agree to let the matter drop, for a time, at least?"

Tom did not answer at once. He looked at Bruce, who returned his gaze steadily. Then, somehow understanding that his friend had a deeper meaning than he had yet disclosed, our hero replied:

"Go ahead; Bruce. I'm with you. Lead on to the experiment, as you call it."

"Do you all agree?" inquired the older lad. "Will you let this matter rest until you hear from Tom again?"

"Sure," answered Jack and Bert, and the others chorused an assent.

"Then you wait until I send for you, Tom," went on the post-graduate student. "It may take a day or so to get the experiment in shape."

There were murmurs of surprise as Bruce bowed himself out, and some were still rather in favor of taking summary action against Sam and Nick. But Tom said:

"No, I've passed my word, and that goes. Bruce knows what he's talking about, and we'll wait and see what he has up his sleeve. If his experiment doesn't work, he'll be the first one to admit it, and then he'll say the bars are down, and we can do as we like."

As he finished there came across the campus the sound of a bell ringing.

"Well, I know what I'm going to do right now, and that is get ready for grub!" exclaimed Bert. "Sam and Nick can wait for all of me, but I'm hungry."

Soon a merry party had gathered in the big dining room, for more students had arrived by later trains, or other conveyances, and Tom and his chums were kept busy renewing old acquaintances, or making new ones.

"There are a raft of Freshies," commented Jack to his chum, as they lingered over the dessert. "We'll have our hands full hazing them, all right!"

"Oh, we can do it," declared Bert. "We always have."

"Humph! We've been Sophs such a terrible long time," murmured Tom with a smile.

Discipline was rather lax that night, and there was much visiting to and fro in the rooms. The proctor and the professors were kept busy registering new students and did not pay much attention to the older ones, including Tom and his chums, who made merry.

"Oh, you boys!" exclaimed Demosthenes Miller, or "Demy" as he was called—the studious janitor. "Oh, you boys! Will you ever settle down?"

"I'm afraid not," replied Tom, as he invaded the lower regions of the man who attended to the fires, to borrow a long poker. "We want this for some fun. There's a prof. who has a room just under ours, and he wears a wig. It's out on the window sill to air, and I think I can hook it."

"Oh, young gentlemen, don't, I beg of you!" expostulated the janitor. But they paid no heed to him, and hurried off with the long poker, while the studious janitor, to drown his apprehension, took up a Latin book which he was struggling through, endeavoring to educate himself in the classics.

Tom was engaged in the exciting, if forbidden, sport of trying to lift the wig of the unfortunate professor from the ledge beneath his room window, when there came a knock on his door.

"Oh ho!" ejaculated Bruce Bennington, as he entered. "Up to your old tricks, I see. Well I can't blame you. I did the same thing once. What are you after, a bottle of pop?"

"A wig," explained Tom, briefly. "Want a try for it?"

"Not me. I've got to walk pretty straight you know. I'm regarded as a sort of professor now, and I suppose, if I did my strict duty, I'd report you. But I'm off duty to-night. I say, Tom, are you ready now for that experiment I spoke of?"

"Sure I am. But—" and Tom looked suggestively at the poker and motioned downward to where the wig was still reposing.

"We'll get it up while you're gone," said Jack.

"You will not!" cried Tom. "Do you think I want to miss all the fun?
Wait until I get back. Will your experiment take long, Bruce?"

"It may take most of the evening. But the wig will keep, and you may think up a better plan in regard to it. Why not substitute another for it while you're at it?"

"By Jove! The very thing!" cried Jack.

"You can get one while you're in town if you like," went on Bruce dryly, "for I'm going to drag you off to town, Tom."

"Good! I'm with you. Mind now," he cautioned his chums, "don't touch that wig until I get back."

They promised, and, though wondering what Bruce had in mind, they asked no questions.

"I guess it's safe to run the guard to-night," remarked Bruce, as he and Tom crossed the campus on their way to the trolley line running into Elmwood.

"Oh, sure," assented our hero. "But what's in the wind?"

"I'm going to prove to you that it would be bad policy to make a class matter of sending Sam to Coventry, or of trying to run him out of the school. And to do that I invite you to have a little lunch with me in town."