CHAPTER

I. Waiting

II. Ward Hill's Decision

III. Mr. Crane's Examination

IV. A Call for Help

V. A Warning

VI. The Beginning of the Struggle

VII. The Troubles are Increased

VIII. Perplexity

IX. An Interview with Jack

X. The Scene in Ripley's Room

XI. Jack Hobart's Project

XII. Mr. Crane's Words

XIII. A Faithful Friend

XIV. Ward Humbles Himself

XV. Outside Lessons

XVI. The Beginning of the Great Game

XVII. The End of the Great Game

XVIII. A Puzzling Question

XIX. Jack's Sermon

XX. Down West Hill

XXI. The Arrow and the Swallow

XXII. The Mishap of the Arrow

XXIII. The Investigation

XXIV. Unexpected Visitors

XXV. Jack Hobart's Proposition

XXVI. Conclusion

*WARD HILL THE SENIOR*

*CHAPTER I*

*WAITING*

The little station at Rockford was the scene of the customary bustle and

stir which appear in most country villages just before the arrival of

the "afternoon train." The village idlers were assembled for the little

break which came in the dull routine of the day. The shrill whistle of

the approaching locomotive always brought a slight thrill in the hearts

of these stolid watchers, as if something in the stir of the great

region beyond their horizon was coming, if but for a moment; and when

the train departed, so long as the cloud of smoke and dust remained

behind it, it served to quicken the dull minds by the suggestions of the

possibilities that lay in that unknown world so far away.

Doubtless the village idlers (the busy people of the little town had

another term by which they called them) never realized that it was their

imaginations to which the arrival of the morning and afternoon trains

appealed, and yet it was that very faculty which was daily stirred, and

for the arousing of which they waited with all the eagerness with which

a toper is said to long for his morning dram. There was the excitement

of waiting for the locomotive's shriek and the first puff of smoke that

marked the approach of the cars in the distance, and this was followed

by the departure, which left them in a state of curiosity and suspense,

not entirely unlike that which the old Greek dramas imparted to the

breathless audiences that followed them in their vast theatres. Then

too there were the few passengers who were soon to leave Rockford, as

well as the people who were waiting for the arrival of friends; and as a

matter of course the ever-present small boy was very much in evidence,

and as he "walked the rails" or leaped across the track, his delight

seemed to be increased by the warning word which some one of the

assembly occasionally gave him. At frequent intervals some farmer would

drive up to the pen which joined the freight house, and with ungentle

hands roughly push out the calves he had brought in his great wagon-box,

and compel them to join the bleating herd soon to be carried away to the

great city. Their piteous cries could be constantly heard by the

waiting people, but they attracted little attention, although some

occasionally expressed their disgust and anger at the brutal methods,

which are all too common, of supplying the toiling people of the great

cities with their meat. The thoughts of the coming train however, which

now as usual was twenty minutes behind time, did not apparently permit

any one long to dwell upon the sufferings, present or prospective, of

the brute creation. They were all too eager for the "afternoon train"

to come.

Among those who were waiting was Ward Hill. Apparently he was taking but

little interest in what was going on about him. He nodded or quietly

responded to the greetings he received from the waiting people, but that

was all. Back and forth along the gravel path which led across the

country road to the station, he walked, but he seldom took his eyes from

the distant bend in the road where the smoke of the coming locomotive,

he was well aware, would first appear. For Ward was expecting a friend

to arrive by that same "afternoon train." Early that morning he had

received a telegram, a most unusual experience in his life. Even now he

could feel the thrill as he tore open the yellow envelope and read the

words:

Am coming on afternoon train. Meet me at the station. SPECK.

Once more he took the message from his pocket and re-read it. He smiled

as he placed it again in his coat and a softer expression came over his

face. However the other boys in that far-away Weston school might feel

toward him, Speck, or John Hobart, as his name had appeared in the

catalogue, at least was true to him.

"Dear old Speck," thought Ward, as a vision of the school and his

experiences there in the preceding year rose before his mind. And yet

it was evident that the recollection was not entirely pleasing. To Ward

it had largely been a year of failure. He thought of his own high hopes

when he had entered, and then the picture of his gradual but sure

descent could not be forgotten. How he had neglected his work and been

drawn into the company of those who were no credit to the school, to

their parents, or to themselves! How he had failed at the very time

when he had been most eager to show what he could do! He had won no

prize, had failed in the final examinations, and by his one attempt to

do right, had incurred the anger of "the fellows," and at last had

departed from Weston feeling very like an outcast. The bright spots had

been the friendship of Jack Hobart, and the strong confidence which Mr.

Crane, the teacher of Latin, had expressed in his ability to recover

himself and in a measure make good the time he had lost. All summer

long that final interview with Mr. Crane had been his inspiration, and

Ward had worked faithfully in his endeavor to make up the work he had

lost.

There had been times when he had felt that he must give it all up. The

days when his friend Henry Boyd and some of his companions had come for

him to go with them sailing down the bay and out along the shore of the

ocean, which he could see every morning from the window of his room in

his father's house, had been the most difficult for him, but somehow he

had roused himself and kept steadily at his task. Then too, there had

been days when the sun had been almost like a ball of fire, and the very

air he breathed had seemed almost like the hot breath of a furnace, and

it had required the exertion of all his will power to continue at his

studies. And will power had never been Ward Hill's strongest point.

His father had not spoken to him all summer long concerning his work,

for he had gently informed Ward, at the close of his disastrous year at

Weston, that the future lay entirely with him. He was willing to do his

utmost for the boy whom he loved, but he never should insist now upon

his return. If he made up his work and desired to go on, he would

sacrifice and do his utmost for him, but as for sending him when he

himself had no desire to go--that was an impossibility.

Ward had felt the justice of his father's words, but his heart had been

none the less hungry for the words of encouragement which were not

spoken. He little realized how difficult it had been for his father to

remain silent, and with what tender solicitude he had watched the course

of his only boy; but Mr. Hill had been governed largely by the advice of

his friend, Dr. Gray, the head of the Weston school, who had keenly

realized the crisis which had come in the lad's life. The issues of

life have always to be settled by us alone, and all the advice and

sympathy of the very best of our friends can never take the place of

that decision and exertion which must come, if ever success is to be

won, from the individual soul itself.

And Ward had done his best. All summer long he had kept steadily at his

task. An occasional letter from Mr. Crane had given him some

encouragement at the time when he had needed it most; for there was no

man whom he respected more and none, with the single exception of his

own father--whom Ward, in spite of his failures, dearly loved--for whom

he cherished a stronger feeling of affection. After all, perhaps Ward

Hill was learning what we all come to know sooner or later, that there

is no such thing as a genuine love which does not have a feeling of deep

respect as its basis.

And yet what a summer it had been! It had brought almost no pleasure to

him. The other boys had been free to come and go as they chose, but for

Ward there was only the steady grind of work--work which was all

unnecessary he knew, for if he had only been reasonably faithful to his

duties in the school, he too might have had the summer to spend as every

vacation ought to be spent. For him there had been no sailing parties,

no fishing trips, nothing but the hard and steady work. Even his friend

Henry Boyd had soon let him alone when he saw that Ward was not inclined

to join with his companions in the sports of the summer days.

Ward had been almost inclined to blame his friend for his neglect,

although he well knew he was himself the only one at fault; but then

that is a tendency which seems to be in the hearts of us all. It is

almost always some one else who is at fault, we fondly believe, for our

own shortcomings and failures. Few of us have the moral courage to look

squarely at ourselves and to call everything by its proper name.

However, Ward had not cherished any ill will, and perhaps smarting under

the sense of his failures, had preferred to be let alone.

He glanced up at the pastures that stretched away beyond the station at

Rockford. How the grass had withered and curled beneath the influence

of the hot August sun! A fitting picture, he thought, of his own summer

vacation. All his plans had been thwarted and every hope blasted by the

failure he had made at Weston. The fields all parched and sere seemed

something like his own life. And Ward felt quite like a youthful

misanthrope, only it is likely he had never heard that word used, or

never had thought of its meaning.

But July had gone and the most of August had now passed. The time when

he must return to Weston, if he returned at all, would soon be at hand.

And Ward Hill had not yet fully decided that question. There were times

when he thought he certainly would go back and redeem himself, but when

he thought of the unpopularity which had overtaken him near the close of

the year, and of what he must face if he should return, his heart almost

failed him, and it seemed to the troubled boy as if he never could enter

Weston again. The only source of comfort he had was the knowledge that

the work at last had been completed and he felt reasonably sure of his

ability to pass the examination in which he had failed, and now could go

on with his class in case he decided to enter the school again.

His thoughts were interrupted by the distant whistle of the engine, and

the far-away cloud of smoke and dust proclaimed the approach of the

train.

In a moment signs of life began to appear about the little station. The

man who for years had carried the mails picked up the mail pouch and

approached the place where he knew by long experience the mail car would

stop. The station-master put on his cap, his sole badge of office, the

small boys ceased from their antics, those who were to leave Rockford

gathered up their bags and bundles, and all came out from the station

and stood waiting for the approaching train.

Ward too was thoroughly interested now, and took his stand a little

apart from the crowd. On came the rumbling cars, gradually slackening

their speed, and at last directly in front of him they came to a rest,

the locomotive still puffing as though to add its part to the little

station's excitement.

And there was Jack, standing upon the platform and gazing eagerly about

him for his friend. In a moment he spied him, and flinging his

traveling bag before him upon the ground, he leaped lightly from the

platform and made a dash for Ward.

In a moment he had flung his arm about the neck of his friend and was

shaking him eagerly by the hand. Ward, who was a somewhat reserved lad

and never very demonstrative in his displays of affection, instead of

feeling somewhat abashed by the exuberance of his friend, was greatly

touched, and for a moment his eyes were filled with tears. Jack was so

different from all the boys he had ever known. No matter what he might

say or do, no one could take any exception to him.

"I say, Ward," said Jack eagerly, "this is the best sight my poor old

eyes have looked upon all summer. You don't know how I have looked

forward to this day and how glad I am to see you."

"And I am just as glad to see you," said Ward, returning the pressure of

his friend's hand.

"Glad? Well, I should say! That's a fine word to use in welcoming your

long-lost friend and brother after he's taken the dirtiest ride he ever

took in his life, and all just to look into your eyes again. Glad? Why

don't you say you're teetotally overcome, so to speak. Say you're wild

with joy and you 'would that your tongue could utter the thoughts that

arise in you.' Isn't that what the doctor used to say was the proper

thing in our English class?"

"I believe so," replied Ward, laughing more heartily than he had all

summer.

"Well, say it then! It seems to me you're trying to put it that you

would that your tongue could stammer the thoughts that surge up in your

massive brain. Why the very calves of Rockford are glad I've come," he

added, as there came a louder blast of lamenting from the pen. "I say,

Ward, what are they there for? Are they calves which you have specially

fattened up for the return of the prodigal?"

"They're fatter now than they will ever be again, I'm afraid," said Ward

smiling.

"It was mighty kind of you to have a whole yard full waiting for me. I

didn't expect to have but one. But, then, that's always the way with

Ward Hill. He's capable of doing a heap more than he ever lets on. But

I say, old fellow, you don't know how glad I am to see you. It's driven

every freckle on my face out of sight."

And the impulsive Speck again held his friend out at arm's length and

gave him a look in which all his boyish love seemed to find expression.

Ward picked up his friend's traveling bag and together the boys started

up the quaint winding street of the old village, on their way to his

home, Jack meanwhile chattering on of all his summer experiences, and of

what he had heard from the other boys.

"Here we are!" he shouted as they came in sight of Ward's home. "It's

just the same, only better than it was. Hold on a minute, Ward," he

added as they stopped by the gate. "I've got one thing to say to you,

and I want to say it right now. You're going back to Weston, aren't

you? Your letters haven't been very satisfactory, and I must know. Tell

me. Tell me, quick!"

"I don't know," replied Ward evasively. "We'll talk about that later.

Here's mother waiting for you."

The boys turned quickly and walking rapidly up the flower-bordered path

were warmly welcomed by Mrs. Hill, and then at once entered the house.

*CHAPTER II*

*WARD HILL'S DECISION*

After dinner that same evening Henry Boyd came over and joined them, and

for a long time the three boys sat on the vine-shielded piazza and

talked about the experiences of the preceding year at Weston. At times

their laughter could have been heard far up the street, for Jack Hobart

was not one to permit quiet long to reign where he was.

Ward's father and mother, who had not remained with the boys after they

saw that the conversation had turned to school topics, were none the

less rejoiced at the change which the coming of Jack wrought in their

boy. His laugh was the merriest of the three, and for a time it seemed

as if the gloom which had rested over Ward all summer long had

disappeared.

"I've heard from lots of the fellows," Jack was saying, "and I can tell

you we're going to have the best year at Weston we have ever seen. Why,

even Tim Pickard is coming back."

"Tim?" said Henry quickly, "Why, I thought he had been expelled and

never could come back again."

"Oh, Tim's made it all up with Dr. Gray. He's seen the error of his

ways and wants to turn over a new leaf. He's promised all sorts of

things and has been studying hard with a tutor. I really think Tim

means what he says too. He's not such a bad fellow, you know, after

all. He's had too much money and his mother's dead, you know, and so

there was no one to look after him besides his father, and he was too

much interested in stocks and things to give any attention to his own

flesh and blood. I believe he has written some such stuff to the doctor

and promises to do his part too in looking after Tim. He's even said

he'd see to it that Tim shall have only a dollar a week for spending

money. Poor Tim!" added Jack with a laugh.

"If he'll only keep it up," said Henry soberly.

"Yes, if he'll only keep it up," repeated Jack. "That's the rub, I know.

Tim means what he says now; no doubt about that. He's even going to

take a room alone down at Ma Perrins', so that he'll be out of the way

of temptation and me." And Jack's merry laugh rang out at the words.

"Honestly, I don't know about his holding out though. I have my own

opinion about that, but I don't mean to prophesy evil of any fellow.

And then Tim's going to have some things in his favor you must remember.

For example, he'll be out from under the influence of your humble

servant, and that's no small thing, I'd have you know."

A silence for a brief time followed Jack's words. Ward felt that Jack in

his words about Tim Pickard was really taking that means to inform him

of some of the problems which would face him upon his return to Weston.

That is, if he should return, for Ward was not yet decided as to what he

would do.

Tim Pickard had been his most bitter enemy. Even now he could see his

coarse face and hear his brutal laugh. Could he ever go back and face

him? The very peacefulness of Rockford came out just then the stronger

by way of contrast with the difficulties he would have to face in the

school. The croaking of the distant frogs rose on the air, the

fireflies were flitting about in the yard, and the soft mellow light of

the moon was beginning to appear. It was the very perfection of quiet

and peace. Here there were no "Tangs," no Tim Pickards, no enmities and

jealousies; while the presence of his father and mother seemed to him

like a shield from everything that was evil. It was so much more easy

to keep out of trouble in Rockford than it was in Weston. And yet Ward

knew that both his father and mother were intensely eager for him to

return to the school and redeem himself. Which was better for him, to

go back and face all the possible temptations and difficulties of the

school life, or to remain where he was and be free from them all? In

his heart Ward knew the answer. To remain in Rockford would be

virtually playing the part of a coward. He would not have to meet and

struggle with certain forms of evil there, but it would be a confession

that he was afraid. He would lose more than he would gain, there could

be no doubt as to that, but the struggle to decide was no easy matter.

Ward Hill had not yet learned the lesson that whether we do right or

wrong depends far more upon ourselves than upon our surroundings. He

might remain away from all his troubles, and yet he would also stay away

from all that would aid him also. At first Ward had pleaded that he

might be permitted to go to some other school, but his father had been

firm upon that point. He had told Ward that he would do his utmost and

his best for him, but if the lad wished to go on with his studies it

must be at Weston and no other place for the coming year. And Ward had

realized the justice and truth of his father's demand, and had hot again

urged his request.

"I say, fellows," said Jack, breaking in upon the silence, "whom do you

suppose I saw this summer?"

"I can't imagine," said Henry. "Perhaps it was Big Smith."

"Good guess, Henry. It was that same and no other. Yes, sir; I was

with my family up in the country, and it seems it was right where Big

Smith lived, but I'd forgotten all about it, if I ever knew. Well, one

day I was walking down the street of the city--it's a place about the

size of Rockford, you know--and there I came upon his majesty as big as

life, yes, as big as Big Smith. He made a great time over me, beat

Ward's reception all to pieces, if he did have all the fatted calves in

the country out to greet me upon my arrival."

"Was he the same at home that he was in Western?" inquired Ward.

"Yes, just the same, only different. He had the same pompous way with

him, but I tell you, fellows, Big Smith isn't so bad after all. He's

just one of those chaps that's been spoiled by living in a little place,

where everybody thought he was a great man because he'd once been away

to school. He'd never had a fair chance to size himself up, so to

speak, and when he got with a crowd of fellows he didn't know just what

to make of it when they didn't all fall down before him."

Jack suddenly stopped, realizing then for the first time what he had

said. Both of his companions were from a little place too, which he had

just declared was not unlike Big Smith's home. Perhaps they too had

suffered somewhat from the same cause which had brought about Big

Smith's unpopularity. Ward, at least, realized in a measure the truth of

Jack's words as applied to himself, and he felt his cheeks burn. But

the dusk hid him from the sight of his companions and he said nothing.

"You know, of course, you fellows," said Jack, striving to break a part

of the force of his own words, as he felt rather than saw that an

unfortunate turn in the conversation had arisen, "that I don't mean that

Big Smith's ever had any such homes as you have. He's had all the

disadvantages without the advantages you have here, and you have all the

advantages without his disadvantages. I don't think you fellows half

appreciate what you've got here. But Big Smith's a horse of another

color. And yet I never saw such a change come over a fellow in my life

as there has in him. I couldn't hardly believe my own ears when I heard

him talk."

"Why, what did he say?" said Ward quietly.

"Well, he told me about a talk he had with Mr. Crane before he left

Weston, or it may have been a talk Mr. Crane had with him--I'm not sure

which it was. It seems that Mr. Crane sent for him and they had a long

confab. Mr. Crane got him to talking about himself, and finally led him

on until he had expressed his opinion about some of the other fellows

too. Finally, after he'd told of some things one of the other boys had

done, Mr. Crane turned to him and said in that abrupt way of his,

'Smith, that fellow is making a fool of himself, isn't he?' Big Smith

fell into the trap and I can hear his graveyard voice as he said, 'Yes,

he is, and a big one too.' Upon that Mr. Crane jumped up out of his

chair and looking Big Smith squarely in the face said, 'Well, Smith,

that's just what you are doing too!' And then he turned and walked

straight out of the room. Big Smith laughed while he was telling me all

about it, and said he was never cut up about anything so in all his

life, but he'd been thinking of it all summer, and had about made up his

mind that Mr. Crane had the right of it. Why, fellows, I almost gasped

for breath. Think of Big Smith getting off anything like that. It

doesn't seem possible to me even now. Why, if Big Smith can reform

there's a chance for Tim Pickard, and there must be for me."

"Then he's going back to Weston, is he?" inquired Henry.

"Yes, sir, and he says he's going to make Ward and you just bestir

yourselves or he will come up to you."

"That won't be very much of a task, so far as I'm concerned," said

Henry; "but if he overtakes Ward, he'll have to rise somewhat earlier in

the morning than he has been accustomed to do."

Ward said nothing. He was thinking of that conversation Jack had

reported as having taken place between Big Smith and Mr. Crane. Perhaps

he himself was the very one of whom Big Smith had made the remark that

he had 'been making a fool of himself.' And it was true; that was the

worst thing about it. He had played the fool, for a lad of any brains

at all would never have done as he had, he thought bitterly.

"Did you see Pond? You know he lives in the same place in which Big

Smith does," said Henry.

"No, I didn't see him," replied Jack; "but I hear he's off working

somewhere. At least that's what Big Smith said. I hope he'll come

back; he's one of the very best fellows in the Weston school."

"That he is," said Ward eagerly; "but he's not coming back before

Christmas, if he does then."

"Why not? Have you heard from him?" inquired Jack.

"Yes, he's written me two or three times. He's the only fellow I've

heard from, except Jack here and Mr. Crane, though he isn't exactly a

fellow."

"Oh, yes he is. Mr. Crane's one of the best fellows I ever met, if he

does call me up and set me down hard in the Latin room," said Jack with

a laugh. "What did Pond write you?"

"He wrote me that he'd have to stay out for the first term and try to

earn some money. His younger brother is coming though."

"That will be Big Pond and Little Pond then," said Jack. "I wonder

whether the fresh Pond is as good a ball player as Big Pond is? We want

to fix the Burrs this fall."

"I don't believe he's as much good as that," said Ward, "because his

brother has written me that he's a slight, delicate little chap, and he

wants me to take him under my wing till he himself comes back."

"Couldn't be under better, my boy, couldn't be under better," said Jack.

"But I don't want his coming to interfere with one of the plans I've

made."

"What's that?" inquired Ward.

"Why, I want you to room with me. You see, I'll be left all alone now

that Tim's going down to Ma Perrins. I need your feathers to cover me a

good deal more than Little Pond ever could."

Jack spoke eagerly and his strong desire was clearly apparent in his

words. Ward was deeply touched, but after a brief hesitation, he said

slowly: "No, Jack, I can't do it. I hope you don't feel hurt, or think

it's because I don't want to. But I've been thinking it all over, as

we've been sitting here. At first I didn't see how I could go back to

Weston, anyhow. I thought I'd go up just to pass my examinations and

clear up last year's work, but since you've been talking here I've

decided to go back, and pitch into the work and do my level best."

"Good for you, Ward Hill!" said Jack eagerly, springing up from the

steps of the piazza upon which he had been seated, and slapping his

friend delightedly upon the back. "Good for you! Why, do you know

that's just what I came up here for? I was so afraid you weren't going

to come that I just couldn't stand it, so I put straight for Rockford.

Of course I'm sorry you aren't willing to room with your humble servant,

though I don't know as I can find it in my heart to blame you for that.

The other thing's so good though, that I'm not going to shed a tear.

We'll do up the Burrs in fine style now."

"Hear me out," said Ward quietly. "I think I'd better go straight back

just as I was, and if Henry here doesn't mind, I'd like to go in with

him and take the same old room in West Hall and make a fresh start. If

Henry doesn't feel like doing that, that will change matters a bit."

"I'm only too glad to do it," said Henry warmly. He said nothing about

Ward's declining Jack's offer for he thought he understood exactly how

he felt about it. He was so rejoiced over Ward's decision to return

that he was eager to do all in his power to aid him now.

"That fixes it, then," said Jack enthusiastically. "Come, fellows, let's

let off one of the school yells!" The three arose and gave the Weston

cheer together.

The noise brought Ward's father and mother to the door, and as they

appeared Jack shouted: "Ward's going back with us, Mrs. Hill! He's

going to room with Henry and we'll whip the Burrs and lead the class and

do all sorts of things!"

The Hill household was a happy one that night. Ward's decision had

wonderfully pleased his father and mother, and he himself was surprised

at the relief which had come to him. Better than ever before he

realized that it meant a severe struggle for him, but the present weight

at least was lifted from his heart, and in the joy which comes from

facing and overcoming a difficult problem, Ward Hill was happier than he

had been for many weeks past.

On the following day the three boys had a sail on the bay, and then the

"afternoon train" carried Jack out of Rockford.

"Never mind fattening up any more calves for me!" he called from his

place on the rear platform of the last car. "It's all right and I'll

see you in a few days at Weston!"

Two weeks later, just as the sun disappeared behind the western hills,

Ward and Henry alighted from the coach in Weston as it stopped before

the entrance to West Hall, and running lightly up the stairway, soon

entered "seventeen," the same room in which they had begun their

experiences of the preceding year.

*CHAPTER III*

*MR. CRANE'S EXAMINATION*

Along with all the excitement attending the return of the boys to the

school there was a feeling of depression in Ward's heart which he could

not entirely shake off. The walls of the room seemed more bare than

they did in the preceding year, and the undefined dread of meeting his

former companions pressed heavily upon him, now that he found himself

once more in the old familiar place and under the necessity of facing

not only them but himself as well.

The cloud which had rested upon him when he left Weston, while it had

never disappeared, had nevertheless been somewhat dim and hazy when he

had been away from it all, and had had the presence of his father and

mother to strengthen him; but now he was alone, and all his former

feelings returned. How long it would be before he would see Rockford

again! And what experiences were likely to be his before the fall term

was ended.

Heavy as his heart was, however, Ward did not refer to his feelings, but

busied himself in arranging the few articles of furniture which

comprised their possessions, and soon the room took on its old and

familiar appearance. Up the stairs and through the halls the other boys

were rushing, and the sound of the heavy trunks as they were deposited

in the rooms could be continually heard. Their own door was closed and

no one entered to disturb them, a fact over which Ward secretly

rejoiced, for he was dreading far more than he cared to express, his

first meeting with his fellows.

"There," said Henry at last, "I don't see that we can do anything more

to-night. I think we'd better go over and report to the doctor now,

don't you?"

"Yes," said Ward gloomily. "It's got to be done, and the sooner it's

over the better."

Henry glanced keenly at his friend, but made no further response, and in

a few moments the boys left West Hall and went over to Dr. Gray's house.

The reception room seemed to be almost filled with boys and their

parents, and Ward was surprised as he noted that many were evidently

new-comers.

As he took his seat he busied himself for a time in carefully observing

his companions and it was not long before he had satisfied himself that

among the new arrivals he would find some who would be congenial to

himself. His thoughts and observations were both interrupted by the

entrance of the principal, who at once advanced and shook the hands of

Ward and Henry, and after they had delivered the letter they had

brought, they quickly departed.

As they came out again into the broad, shaded street, Ward determined to

carry out a plan he had formed, which was nothing less than to seek out

Mr. Crane at once, and ascertain when his examination upon the work in

which he had failed was to take place. He said nothing concerning it to

Henry, however, and merely remarking that he would soon be back in the

room, turned and abruptly left his chum.

As he walked slowly over toward East Hall, the building over which Mr.

Crane had charge and in which he had his room, his feeling of anxiety

increased. Perhaps after all he would be unable to pass his

examination. He had worked faithfully all summer long and had felt

confident when he left home that he could easily make up the lost work,

but now that the testing time had come all his fears returned. There

was one thing certain any way, he thought, and that was if he should

succeed in passing Mr. Crane's tests now, never again would he be found

in such a predicament. He thought again of the teacher's words about

its being so much more easy to keep up than to catch up.

"He's right," said Ward aloud. "He's right. He always is. I almost

wish Mr. Crane would let me room with him. I think I could do right

there so much more easily."

He smiled as he thought of the suggestion and realized how absurd it

was. After all, if he could room with the man whom he so highly

respected and loved, would he be any better for it? It would be Mr.

Crane's "right" and not his. No, he must brace himself to meet his

problems himself. Ward Hill's future lay in Ward Hill's hands.

Just then he came around the bend in the path and East Hall was right

before him. From every window a light was streaming, and it was evident

that there was to be no lack of boys at Weston this year. Now and then

a burst of laughter could be heard, and occasionally the words of a song

rose on the still air. The building seemed to be teeming with life and

spirits, and somehow in the presence of it all Ward felt a wave of

lonesomeness sweeping over him. The East Hall boys all had good rooms,

plenty of money, and no lack of friends. His own room seemed to him

bare and chill; money he knew he must use sparingly; and as for friends,

he did not know whether any besides Jack and Henry were left for him

among the boys of the Weston school.

He was now by the stone steps which led up to the first hall, and Mr.

Crane's room was the first one on the left. Summoning all his courage,

Ward resolutely approached the door and rapped.

It was opened by Mr. Crane himself, and as he quickly recognized the lad

standing before him, he held forth his hand and said cordially: "Why,

Hill, I'm delighted to see you. Come in."

Ward entered and seated himself in the chair indicated by his teacher.

He was in almost the very same place where he had been ten weeks before,

and all the memories of that scene came pressing back upon him. The

recollection was not over-pleasing, and the troubled boy was hardly able

to speak. He had thought many times of the very words he would use when

he first saw Mr. Crane again, but they were gone from him now.

Mr. Crane, apparently not noticing Ward's embarrassment, began to speak

of the experiences of the summer.

"I took a long tramp among the Northern hills," he said. "It was a

thoroughly enjoyable experience to me. I was alone the most of the

time, and more than once I wished that you were with me. I think you

would have enjoyed it, and I knew that I did."

Ward listened as Mr. Crane went on with his descriptions, and for a

moment almost forgot the purpose of his visit. Soon it all came back,

however, and unable to restrain himself longer, he broke out with the

words:

"I know I should have enjoyed it, Mr. Crane, but I didn't have just that

kind of a summer. I spent every forenoon in going over my work. I only

had two days off all summer long, and yet I've not felt so bad as I

thought I should. At least I don't now, for I think I can pass up on my

examinations; that is, if they're no harder than those you gave at the

end of the year."

"They'll be no harder," replied Mr. Crane, with a smile. "Now tell me

about the work you've done."

And Ward entered into a detailed account of all the studying he had done

during the summer vacation.

Mr. Crane listened attentively, occasionally interrupting to ask some

question that occurred to him, and at last when the troubled lad had

finished his story, he quietly said:

"And now you think that you can pass any examination I can give you on

the work?"

"Hardly that," said Ward quickly; "but I do think, Mr. Crane, that I can

pass any examination which isn't any tougher--I mean harder--than the

one you gave the class last June."

"Very well, Hill, I shall take your word for it. You ought to know as

much about it as any one, and if you think you understand the work, I'm

satisfied."

"I don't understand you," faltered Ward. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said, Hill. All I want of an examination is to satisfy

myself that a boy can go on with his class. From what you have told me

of your studying, and from what I know of you, I am satisfied you can do

that, and that is all I want. Of course I shall expect good work from

you, Hill, and you'll not disappoint me."

"Why, Mr. Crane," said Ward starting up from his seat. "And I'm not to

take an examination? Is that what you mean?"

"Yes."

"I never expected anything like that," said Ward much moved. "I can't

tell you how much I thank you, Mr. Crane. It's not that I'm afraid of

the examination," he added hastily, "but I never even dreamed of your

doing any such thing."

"I trust you are not too much disappointed. If you are, I can very

readily arrange to meet your wishes," replied Mr. Crane smilingly.

"I've told you, however, just how I feel about it, and if I'm content,

why, it seems to me you ought to be."

"I am! I am!" said Ward hastily, as he bade Mr. Crane good-night and

departed for his room in West Hall.

How different everything appeared now! The very stars in the heavens

seemed to share in his joy. The songs and laughter that came through the

open windows of the great dormitory behind him now seemed to voice his

own feelings. In his eagerness he began to run and as he entered West

Hall he mounted the steps two at a time and burst into his room.

"Oh, Henry----"

He suddenly stopped as he saw that there were three boys besides Henry

in the room. One was Jack, and in a moment that impulsive lad was

welcoming him.

"I say, Ward," said Jack, "I'm just in. I didn't stop over in East Hall

longer than to leave my grip before I put straight for your room.

Behold, I looked for you and you were not. You've been looking me up, I

know. That's just what you've been doing. I don't believe I'd have

come back to Weston if you hadn't come!"

"I've been over to see Mr. Crane and fix up my conditions," said Ward.

"Got 'em all fixed?"

"Yes, every one."

"Good for you, Ward! Good for you! Oh, I say, I haven't introduced the

new fellows to, you. This," he added turning to a well-grown lad,

evidently of about their own age, "this is Lucius Berry. He's going to

enter our class, and from what I hear he's going to make you hustle to

get the valedic."

Ward greeted the new member of the class cordially, and then Jack said,

"This is Pond's baby brother."

The lad flushed at Jack's words, and Ward hastened to take him by the

hand and assure him of a warm welcome. He was a slight, delicate boy,

and while he bore a striking resemblance to his older brother, of whom

almost every boy in the Weston school was very fond, it was also evident

that he was not nearly so strong and well as he. Ward wondered that he

should ever have been permitted to leave home, and as he thought of the

experiences through which the sensitive lad was bound to pass if he

remained through the year, his own heart went out to him and he resolved

that so far as it lay within his power he would do his utmost for him.

For a half-hour the boys sat and talked together. The prospects of the

nine, the new members of the school, the rooms they were to have, were

all gone over, and Ward in the new joy which had come to him at Mr.

Crane's words was thoroughly happy.

"Little Pond," as Pond's younger brother was at once dubbed, explained

that his brother expected to return at the opening of the following term

and that meanwhile he was working in the home village store to secure

the means.

"He's got the best kind of stuff in him!" said Jack enthusiastically.

"Talk about money giving a fellow his place in the Weston school! Why,

Pond's the most popular boy that's been here in years. I think I'd be

glad to change places with him myself, that is, if he'd give me his

brains in the bargain. Just imagine me if you can, calling out, 'Yes,

this calico is five cents a yard. Those eggs are fresh, for Mrs. Green

brought them, and she never has any but the best, you know.

Clothespins? Yes, I think we have a few, and I'll measure you off a few

yards of this cotton cloth if you say the word.'"

The boys all laughed as Jack went through the motions as if he were a

clerk in a country store and were measuring off the goods some good

woman had decided to purchase. "But I say, fellows, it's hard for the

nine, though, with Pond gone. But Berry here is a good player. He was

the captain of the nine in the school he came from before he learned of

the advantages of the Weston school. There only can you find such

fellows as Jack Hobart and Ward Hill, and such teachers as Blake and Big

Smith, for I'm of the opinion that Dr. Gray will call Big Smith into the

faculty this fall. He'll have to do it, or Big Smith will fire the

doctor."

Jack thrust his thumbs into his hip pockets and strutted about the room

as he talked, and to Ward his manner and bearing seemed irresistibly

droll. But then, Ward Hill was in a mood to enjoy almost anything that

night.

"I say, Berry," said Jack stopping suddenly before the new boy, "your

name's Lucius, isn't it?"

"Yes," replied Berry. "I've told you so once or twice already."

"So you have. So you have," said Jack. "But somehow, I forget so

easily. Why, I've actually been known to forget the case and gender of

a noun in Mr. Crane's class, haven't I, Ward? Lucius, Lucius," he added

as if he were puzzled by the name. "I have it now. You shall be no more

Lucius. From this time forth your name shall be Luscious. Luscious

Berry! Oh, what a name!"

All the boys laughed heartily at Berry's new name, Berry himself joined

good-naturedly in the laugh as he said: "I thought I'd shaken that name

off when I came to Weston. It's the very same name they gave me in the

other school."

"Jack," said Ward suddenly, "has Tim Pickard come back?"

"Yes," said Jack, sobered in a moment. "Yes, Tim's here. He's going to

room alone at Ma Perrins', you know, this year."

Ward's face clouded and he knew from the change in Jack's manner that

something was wrong, though he could not determine just what it was.

The fun, however, was gone, and in a few minutes Jack rose and said:

"Come on, Luscious, we'll have to go over to our room. He's to room

with me, you know," he added turning to Ward. "He's come all properly

recommended and all that sort of thing, so I've agreed to take him in.

Good-night, Henry. Good-night, Puddle--a little Pond's a puddle, isn't

it? Good-night, Ward. Your vertebrae are in their proper tension I

hope, and your upper lip is sufficiently rigid, my dear young friend, I

trust."

The boys were gone, but Jack's last words were not lost upon Ward. He

understood his friend so well that he was satisfied Jack knew of some

coming trial for him. And Ward tried to prepare himself for the trouble

which he feared was soon coming, although he had slight conception that

night of how soon it was to come.

*CHAPTER IV*

*A CALL FOR HELP*

"I'm going down to Mr. Blake's room a minute," said Henry when Jack and

his new room-mate had departed. "I sha'n't be gone long."

"All right," replied Ward, as he turned to talk with the younger Pond,

who had remained as if he had something he wished to speak about.

"Well, Pond," he added, after he had seated himself near him, "how do

you like Weston?"

"I think I shall like it after I've become better acquainted. Of

course, I've heard my brother tell so many things about it, that it

doesn't seem exactly like a new place to me. And he's told so many

things too about the boys, that it almost seems to me as if I had always

known them."

"I'm afraid you haven't always heard good things then, if he's told you

about the boys. I'm sure the list of good things wouldn't be very long

in my case."

"He told me he liked you better than any boy in the school," said young

Pond eagerly. "I never heard him say one word against you, except that

you didn't work very hard. He declared he never would have been able to

lead the class if you had put in half the time he did, on your studies."

"That's kind of him," said Ward laughingly, although he was touched by

the evident earnestness of the boy before him. "Is this the first time

you've ever been away from home?"

"Yes. And I fear I'm going to be homesick too."

"Oh, you mustn't mind that!" said Ward as philosophically as if such

feelings were an every-day matter in his life. "You'll get over that

all right."

"That's what my brother said. And he told me too, that I should need

some one to look after me a bit and help to keep me out of the clutches

of the 'Tangs,' or some such things. I don't know just what he meant,

only he said if I would come to you, that you would help me till he came

back next term."

For a moment Ward was silent. The "Tangs" had not once been mentioned

during the summer, and both Henry and Jack had been silent concerning

them. But Ward, although he did not know what course Jack would follow,

had decided that for himself safety lay only in breaking with them. But

his heart was not entirely free from fears or misgivings when he thought

of the possible consequences for himself. And here was Pond's younger

brother coming to him with the utmost confidence for protection against

the very boys whom he most feared himself. He glanced again at the lad

before him. What a slight, delicate little fellow he was. And yet what

a bright, eager expression he had. He would have no difficulty in his

classes; Ward felt certain of that; but what would he do if the boys

began to trouble him?

"You come to me, Pond, whenever you're in trouble, and I'll do my best

for you," he finally said, unable to resist the unspoken as well as the

spoken appeal of the slight boy before him.

"Thank you! Thank you!" replied Pond, rising from his chair and

departing just as Henry returned.

It was late on the following morning when Ward and Henry started to go

to the dining hall, and they met many of the boys who already had eaten

their breakfast. Ward secretly felt relieved at the fact, for the

meeting with the boys was what troubled him most. He had been in

trouble when the preceding year had closed, and unpopularity was

something of which Ward Hill stood in greater fear than of anything

else. How he would be received now was the constantly pressing

question, but its solution would soon come, for "chapel" would bring all

the boys together, and he would not long be left in doubt as to his

position among his fellows then.

The chapel bell was ringing when Ward and Henry hastily left the Hall,

or "hash house" as the building was commonly known, and they hastened

back to their rooms to secure their books before they ran swiftly up the

walk which led to the chapel. Even then there was the usual delay on the

part of some of the students, and Jack Hobart was leading a band of

delinquents as the bell began to give out the sharp short strokes that

indicated the end of its summons.

"String out there! String out, you fellows!" called Jack, as he caught

sight of Ward and Henry, meanwhile striving hard to button his collar

and adjust his tie.

This time Ward understood the meaning of the hail far better than when

he had first heard it in the preceding year, and ceasing to run, he

approached the building more slowly, thus giving Jack and the other

delinquents an opportunity to overtake them and secure their seats

before the bell ceased to be rung and the doors were closed.

Their seats now were in the section which belonged to the seniors. Last

year how he had looked up to the boys who occupied these seats. Ned

Butler was there then, and others whom Ward had deeply respected. Was

any one looking up to him as he had looked up to that marvelous class

which had been graduated in the preceding June? Just then he caught a

glimpse of young Pond, who was evidently far from feeling at his ease in

the midst of the strange scene.

But Dr. Gray then arose and the low murmur which had filled the chapel

became hushed as the exercises were begun. Then followed a talk from

the doctor concerning the work of the year which lay before them, and

Ward could not repress a smile as Jack Hobart looked solemnly at him and

held up four fingers of one hand, thereby indicating that this was the

fourth occasion on which he had listened to the same "lecture" from the

good old man. However, the words were well worthy of repetition and Ward

was soon interested and listened attentively. Directions were given the

new boys concerning the rooms and places in which they were to report,

and then each class was told what was to be expected of it on that day,

and the boys arose and started toward the doors. Ward now knew that the

testing time had come, and he would soon understand just what he had to

expect from his old companions. Summoning all his resolution as he

passed out, he saw Tim Pickard standing with a group of boys, and at

once turned and approached him holding out his hand and endeavoring to

appear calm and indifferent.

"Hello, Tim. Glad to see you back again."

Tim Pickard turned and looked insolently at Ward. There was not a gleam

of recognition or pleasure expressed upon his face. He looked at Ward

just a moment and then, ignoring the outstretched hand and the

salutation alike, he turned again to the boys before him and resumed his

conversation with them.

Ward's face flushed crimson, and at first he felt as if he could not

control the feeling of anger which surged up in his heart. Who was Tim

Pickard, that he should treat him in such a manner? Had he not been

expelled from the school? Did not every fellow in the school know just

what he was? Had any one forgotten the escapades of the coarse-fibred

boy? Ward's heart sank quickly, however, when he thought of his own

record in the preceding year. If Dr.. Gray was willing to receive Tim

Pickard back into the school for another trial, who was he to complain?

And how much better after all was he than Tim?

Ward caught the words "sneak" and "bootlick," which Tim had uttered as

he had turned again to his companions, and realized then just what he

would have to face. Tim Pickard's anger, the enmity of the "Tangs," and

a series of petty annoyances which would be bound to follow him now

perhaps all through the school year, must be met.

It seemed to the troubled boy as if every one in his class was against

him, for he received but a friendly nod or a slight recognition as he

hurried into the Latin room and took his old familiar place. Jack

already was in the chair next to his and Ward at once perceived from the

expression on his face that he was aware of the state of the feeling in

the school.

"Never mind, Ward," he whispered, as his classmate took his seat; "just

you keep in mind what I told you about the condition of your vertebrae,

and the region of your upper lip. It'll all come out right."

To do Ward Hill justice we must say that there was a feeling in his

heart which did not promise to be altogether bad. It is true he was

hurt and angry as he recognized what lay before him, perhaps more angry

than hurt, but he was determined now not to be crushed, or "downed," as

he termed it. Mr. Crane kept the class but a few moments, only long

enough to assign lessons and to make a few general suggestions, and then

dismissed them.

As they filed out of the room, Jack said: "Ward, will you come over to

my room now?"

"No," replied Ward quietly. "I think I'll go over to West and get a

little start in my work. If I'm to be valedic, you know, I must begin

early." Ward smiled slightly as he spoke, but he could not entirely

conceal the depression which now swept over him. "Never mind, Speck,

don't worry about me," he quickly added as he saw the sympathy expressed

upon his friend's face; "I'm going to come through it all right. I'm

not for giving up yet, anyway. I'll come over to see you after a bit;

but just now I think I'll go to my room."

"All right," said Jack heartily, evidently appreciating Ward's desire to

be alone.

Ward walked slowly over toward West Hall. He felt as if nearly all his

companions would be against him now. Tim Pickard, in spite of his

well-known character, was still a good deal of a leader, and his wealth

and success as an athlete added greatly to his power over the boys. He

could not repress the wish that Doctor Gray had not permitted Tim to

return, for he must have known what every boy in the Weston school

thought of him, and must also have known that there was very slight

prospect of Tim's ever advancing. But here he was, and Ward must face

the conditions which were before him. There was to be no escape now.

He entered his room and at once began to study. It was difficult for him

to hold himself to his work, but he succeeded in a measure, and when two

hours later Henry entered, Ward had much of his work done. So far as

his class work was concerned he could look forward with confidence to

what was to come on the morrow.

Throughout the day Ward found that his only consolation was in busying

himself in some work. When he went down to the boarding hall he had but

little to say to his companions, and returned at once to his room.

The day somehow passed and after the evening meal, when he had seated

himself before his study table to write his first letter home, Big Smith

suddenly entered the room, and said:

"Why, Ward, I haven't seen you to speak to you before. Where have you

kept yourself?"

"I haven't been very far away," replied Ward with a smile.

His heart had never been drawn to the boy before him, but in times like

the present even the friendship of Big Smith was not to be lightly cast

aside. Ward Hill could endure anything better than the ill-will of his

fellows.

"Well, I'm glad to see you," said Big Smith solemnly. "I sincerely

trust you are going to do better this year than you did last."

"I hope so too," said Ward; "and I'm not without hope," he added

solemnly, and striving to imitate exactly the tones Big Smith had used,

"that you too will be able to improve."

"Let us hope so. Let us hope so. Doubtless there is room for us all.

But, Ward, I'm not so much afraid of you as I am of Tim Pickard. I

don't see why the doctor ever permitted him to return. I shouldn't, I'm

sure of that."

Ward's face flushed and an angry retort rose upon his lips, but he

restrained himself, and Big Smith continued:

"Yes, I confess, I'm not overmuch rejoiced over Tim's return. He's a

good man for the nine, we all know that; but I fear he may be a

disturbing element in the school. Not with me," he hastily added, "but

I fear for you, Ward, I do, indeed."

Still Ward managed in some way to keep silent, though, as he afterward

explained it, he never understood just how it was done.

"Even now," continued Big Smith, "I hear that Timothy is at work again.

My brother informs me that he and some of his cronies have beguiled

young Pond down on the ball ground and are tormenting him there."

"What? What's that, you say?" said Ward quickly, leaping from his seat

as he spoke, and without waiting for his question to be answered he

seized his hat and ran swiftly out of the room. Down the stairs he

rushed, three steps at a jump, and out along the pathway that led to the

ball ground.

One thought possessed him now--Little Pond was in trouble. Ward

recalled his own promise to aid him, and now that the lad was suffering

at the hands of Tim Pickard two feelings drove him on. One was his

compassion for Pond and the other was his anger at Tim.

It was dusk, the sun having disappeared, but the darkness not as yet

having settled over all. He ran swiftly forward and as he came near the

ball ground he stopped as he heard a shout of laughter coming from that

direction. It seemed to him he could hear Tim Pickard's voice above the

others, but he did not stop to question as he again ran swiftly forward.

He soon came to the brow of the low hill that looked down upon the

field. There he stopped for a moment and looked before him. He could

see that four or five boys were there and there was something in the

midst which at first he could not make out. Soon, however, he could see

what it was. It was a baby carriage and some one was lying strapped

upon it.

"Look out now, gentlemen," he heard some one of the boys call. "We have

here the finest specimen of the infant terrible ever yet seen. _Genus

homo_, order----"

"Don't! Please don't!" Ward heard some one pleadingly say. The voice

was that of young Pond and the other speaker he now knew was Tim

Pickard.

The pleadings were not heeded, however, and with a rush the boys started

with the baby carriage over the rough ground.

Again Ward could hear the pleadings of the frightened lad and the sound

was more than he could bear. In an instant he started down the hillside

at his highest speed and ran swiftly on toward the noisy group.

*CHAPTER V*

*A WARNING*

Ward had drawn near the group before his presence was discovered. The

deepening dusk and the sheltered position of the ball ground had made

the boys who were tormenting Little Pond almost reckless, so secure did

they feel from detection. As a consequence he was close upon them

before any one perceived him.

"Now shake the infant up! Bye, baby, bye! That's a good little boy.

We'll give him a good ride, so we will!"

There was no mistaking that voice, it could be none other than Tim

Pickard's, and Ward could see that he was holding the handle of the

carriage and was preparing to make another rush with the unfortunate lad

who lay stretched upon it.

"Look out! Look out!" called one of the boys suddenly, as he caught

sight of the approaching form. "Some one's coming. Let's get out of

this!"

In an instant Tim's companions scattered and fled in the darkness, while

Tim himself looked about him in surprise, as if he were not yet able to

account for the sudden departure of his friends.

Ward was close upon him now, and without hesitating an instant he rushed

upon the tormentor of Little Pond with such force that he was sent

headlong and rolled over and over upon the ground before he could regain

his foothold.

Ward had not fully realized what he would have to meet in the struggle,

for he had thought that he would be set upon by all the assembled

mischief-makers together; but the cry of Little Pond had banished all

other thoughts from his mind, and he had gone recklessly to the aid of

the lad. He had not counted at all upon the results which quickly

followed.

As soon as Tim could recover himself he ran swiftly off in the darkness

in the direction in which his companions had disappeared, and in a

moment no one was left upon the scene except Ward and the lad, who still

was lying fast bound and in an exceedingly uncomfortable position upon

the top of the baby carriage.

Doubtless the fears in the heart of Tim and his companions had either

exaggerated the number of those who were approaching, or they had

thought some of the teachers were making a descent upon them, and in the

latter event Tim most of all would have found a very serious problem to

face.

At any rate, they had all disappeared so quickly that Ward could hardly

believe at first that he was left alone. He waited a moment to see if

any would return, his blood boiling, and the feeling of anger in his

heart making him almost reckless of any consequences that might befall

him for his hasty but generous action.

As soon as he was satisfied that no one was coming back he turned to

young Pond, and as he unbound the straps by which he had been held fast,

he said:

"What's the meaning of this? How came you to be here?"

"I don't know. I was walking along the path over by the chapel when

three fellows rushed at me, and before I knew what they were about they

were rushing me down here upon the ball ground. One of them tied his

handkerchief over my mouth, but I tore it off. I didn't want to cry

out, but I couldn't help it. They didn't seem to think any one could

hear me and so left it off."

"Are you hurt?"

"Not much, though my back pains me. You see, they picked me up and tied

me in the carriage so that my head and shoulders hung over the back, and

every time they made a rush it seemed to me as if they would break me

straight in two."

"How long have you been here?"

"I don't know; it seems as if it must have been days, but I don't

suppose it was more than half an hour. I thought they'd never stop."

"Do you know who the fellows were?"

"Yes."

"Who were they?"

"I don't think I'll tell, Ward. It wouldn't do any good; and besides, I

may be mistaken, you know. No, I'd rather not tell you if you don't

mind."

"You don't need to," said Ward quietly. "I know who they were. At

least I know who one was, and I rather think he'll not forget his tumble

very soon, either. But come on now, it's time we were in our rooms.

There goes the study bell now, and we'll be marked late if we don't look

out. Come on."

Both boys started quickly toward West Hall, and on their way they met a

group of five boys, one of whom was Tim Pickard. They too were heading

for their rooms, but the recognition was mutual, and Ward instantly

realized that his own troubles were likely to be multiplied by that

fact. However, he said nothing to his companion. In a few moments they

entered West Hall; but the bell had ceased ringing several minutes

before, and as they went up the stairway they met Mr. Blake face to

face.

"Late are you, Hill?" said the teacher. "I'm sorry to see that so early

in the term. And you have one of the younger boys with you too!" he

added as he saw who Ward's companion was. "That's too bad, Hill, that's

too bad. You ought not to get the little fellows into trouble too.

It's quite enough for you to get into it yourself. If this happens

again, Hill, I shall report it to Dr. Gray."

It had been in Ward's heart to explain the cause of his tardiness, or at

least to try to shield his companion, but as Mr. Blake talked on, he

resolutely shut his lips together and without a word of explanation went

on up to his room, while Little Pond also departed to his.

As Ward entered the room Henry looked up in surprise, and Ward felt that

there was an implied rebuke in his glance. Repressing the feeling of

anger which at first arose, he soon explained to his chum the exciting

scene he had just witnessed, and as he finished, Henry said:

"That was a mean trick! They might have broken the little fellow's

back. It was Tim Pickard at the bottom of it, I suppose."

"Yes," said Ward quietly.

"Well, never mind, Ward," said Henry quickly. "Probably he'll turn his

attention to you now; but I think you'll be able to stand it."

"I shall try to," said Ward with a smile, as he seated himself at his

study table, and taking up his books began his preparation of the

lessons for the following day. And he studied hard all that evening.

His heart was still hot and his feelings were bitter whenever he thought

of the brutal treatment of Little Pond, and yet he did not once pause to

consider that a year before this time he might have been one of the very

boys to be foremost in such a scrape, and call it good fun. Now,

however, it seemed to him like a very cowardly act. He had felt a very

strong personal liking for the elder Pond, and the letters he had

received from him, as well as the appeal of the little fellow himself,

had worked strongly upon his own heart. Besides all that, it was such

an entirely unusual experience for him to be approached for aid that it

was a new motive in his heart which was stirred now. Hitherto, he had

been the one to seek help. Now he was a senior, and the feeling of

respect with which he had looked to the older boys when he had entered

the Weston school must be very like that which Pond's brother now felt

toward him.

Ward enjoyed the feeling too. The cry of Little Pond for aid came back

to him frequently and he had fully resolved before the evening passed

that he would "see the little fellow through," which was the way in

which he expressed his determination to see that the lad was not put

upon or tormented by Tim Pickard or any of his boon companions.

Still, when the morning came Ward was hardly prepared for the

consequences which soon followed his action.

When he entered the post office he found a letter awaiting him there,

which evidently had been written by some boy, for the handwriting

plainly showed that, and the postmark was Weston.

He hastily tore open the envelope and then read the enclosed letter,

which was as follows: