COMMITTEE.

As Ward looked up after finishing the reading of the letter he saw Tim

Pickard standing in the doorway and regarding him with ill-concealed

hatred. Ward laughed aloud as he saw the boy, and approaching him and

holding out the letter which he had just read, he said:

"There, Tim, you'd better take your letter; I don't want it. You may be

able to scare the little fellows in the dark as you did Little Pond last

night, but you can't scare me. As for you and the 'Tangs,' you know I

don't care that for them," and he snapped his fingers derisively as he

spoke. "You know as well as I do that I had made up my mind never to

have anything more to do with such fellows. Perhaps, if you don't want

the letter, Dr. Gray might care for it," he added as Tim made no

movement to receive it.

Ward was sorry for the words the moment he had uttered them, but they

were gone beyond recall now. He had not the slightest inclination to

give the letter to the principal, and he knew that Tim Pickard was aware

of that fact too; but Tim instantly snatched the letter from his hand

and giving Ward a look of intense hatred turned quickly on his heel and

departed.

Ward was inclined to laugh at the entire matter. As for the "Tangs," he

was glad that the break had come. He had known that his only safety lay

in cutting loose from them, but just how it was to be done he had not

been able to decide. It had been a topic of conversation to which

neither he nor Jack had referred since the vacation had begun, and now

that the break at last had really come, Ward felt relieved.

As for their threats, he cared little for them. The most they could do

would be a series of petty annoyances, and in the present state of his

feelings that seemed a very small matter.

Of Tim Pickard's hatred for him he had no doubt, but that the brutal

leader would be able to annoy him seriously he had no fear. He had all

those lessons yet to learn, along with some others that were not

indicated in the "course of study" as mapped out in the catalogue of the

Weston school.

When he entered the Latin room that morning and took his seat beside

Jack, he felt rather than perceived that a change of some kind had come

over his companion. It was nothing that Jack said, nor was it clearly

apparent in his manner, and yet there was an indefinable something about

him that led Ward to think that a change of some kind had come. For the

first time Ward's heart misgave him. Perhaps he had been too bold after

all. Could he afford to incur the loss of Jack's friendship for the

sake of a little fellow whom he had never met until a few days before

this time?

His thoughts, however, were soon recalled, and he was giving his entire

attention to the work of the class. His own lesson had been thoroughly

prepared and when he took his seat after Mr. Crane had called upon him

to recite he felt that he had done well.

Mr. Crane, however, made no comment, and there was no change in the

quiet manner with which he conducted his recitation. Ward was a trifle

disappointed, as he felt that such work as he was doing was entitled to

a little more recognition than he had received. However, he gave his

attention to the lesson, and when the class rose to leave the room he

turned to Jack and said:

"It's this afternoon the nine practises, isn't it?"

"Yes," replied Jack evasively.

The conversation ceased abruptly, and as Ward passed with the class out

to Dr. Gray's recitation room, he several times perceived that he

himself was the subject of conversation among the boys.

Striving hard not to appear to notice it, and yet with a sinking heart

realizing that somehow the boys appeared to avoid him, he apparently was

taking his last glimpse at his lesson before entering the recitation

room. And yet his thoughts were not of the lesson. Even Jack he

noticed was walking by the side of Berry--Luscious Berry--and if one

might judge from his manner the conversation was highly interesting.

With a heavy heart Ward entered the room, and as soon as the recitation

was ended departed alone for his room in West Hall. Once there, he

seated himself and in a kind of dull misery began to think over his

situation. The fellows were "cutting" him, there was no doubt of that,

he thought, and even the new boys were looking at him with suspicion.

And yet it was possible for him even now to win back all he had lost;

all he would have to do would be to go in with the "Tangs" again and

enter heartily into their sports and pranks and he would soon have his

position restored.

But what would that position be? One which would prevent him from doing

good work, first of all, and that was something he was eager to do, at

least for the present. Soon he would forfeit the good opinion of Mr.

Crane and Dr. Gray, and his steps would begin to slide. He might win a

certain amount of popularity from such fellows as Tim, but what would it

all amount to?

Then why should he feel called upon to defend Little Pond? He had been

compelled to fight his own battles when he had entered the school and it

had done him good, or at least so Ward thought. Little Pond would soon

learn to take his own part, and meanwhile a little attention from Tim

might not do him any real harm.

Ward Hill was seriously troubled. He did not fully realize it, but the

greatest pain in his own heart was over the loss of his popularity among

his fellows.

For this his heart hungered, and as his struggle went on, more than once

his decision wavered. He was now at the dividing of the ways. He had

been traveling along a road thus far which, while uneven, had been for

the most part unbroken. Now the road forked, and if he went on he must

choose either the one branch or the other.

That afternoon was to be the first day of practice for the school nine.

A notice to that effect had been posted upon the bulletin board, and

while no personal invitation had been given him to come, Ward decided to

go. He must learn the exact condition of affairs, both for his own sake

and to know how to meet the boys, and there would be no better place

than on the ballground.

Accordingly, when the study hour was over, he closed his books and

started for the place, from which as he approached he could hear already

the shouts of the fellows in the game.

*CHAPTER VI*

*THE BEGINNING OF THE STRUGGLE*

A single glance as he came within sight of the field at once showed Ward

that the nine were already in their places, and were playing against a

scrub team. Henry was guarding first base, Jack was on second, and his

own position in left field was held by the new boy, Ripley.

Ward understood it all now; it was the intention of Tim Pickard and his

friends to "freeze him out."

He thought for a moment bitterly of the success he had had in the game

with the Burrs in the preceding year, and how in their enthusiasm after

the game was ended, his mates had carried him about on their shoulders,

and the cheers for Ward Hill had been given with a will.

And it had all been sweet to Ward too. Vanity seemed to have been

intended as a part of the original make-up of every son of Adam, and

while many times it becomes a source of weakness, more frequently it is

an element of power. Almost every boy is prone to look upon his own

father, for example, with a confidence and admiration he gives no other

man, and rightly too. The belief in one's own ability to do things is

no slight element in the possible success which he may achieve. But out

of proportion, or not in its proper place, or when permitted to become a

controlling power, vanity never fails to become a source of weakness.

This had been as true with Ward Hill as it had been with Big Smith,

although the manner in which it became manifest was so different. To

measure one's self justly, to decide honestly what can be done and what

cannot, is ever an element of power, and one of the very best lessons,

as it is almost the first of the necessary ones, to be gained as a boy

goes out from his own home, where his good qualities have frequently

been exaggerated and his poorer ones ignored; and to learn that there

are other boys as bright as he, is a difficult but necessary process. A

school is the most thoroughly and the most honestly democratic place in

all this world, and if a boy finds that there he is not popular with his

mates, instead of blaming them he needs very carefully and honestly to

look within himself to discover the causes. It is frequently said that

the source of Caesar's success was his ability to discover what he could

not do and to govern himself accordingly; while the cause of Napoleon's

downfall is said to have been his inability to perceive what Caesar saw.

But Ward Hill that afternoon was not thinking either of Caesar or

Napoleon. He was troubled most of all about Ward Hill and the fact that

he had been left off the Weston nine.

His mortification was not diminished when he discovered that both Henry

and Jack were in their regular positions. Now he understood the meaning

of the change in Jack's manner. While he was angry he was not inclined

to blame him, for he understood clearly the disposition of the

light-hearted lad, and knew that he was never one to stand long against

an appeal of almost any kind.

But Henry's action troubled him. He had professed so warm a friendship,

and apparently had been so eager to have their former relations

restored, that he could not understand now why he should not have spoken

to him before of the change in the nine. Perhaps Ward's bitterness was

a little more intense from the consciousness he had that there was no

better player in the Weston school than he knew himself to be. That,

however, did not alter the fact that he had been left out, and doubtless

intentionally too.

Ward's first impulse was to turn quickly and leave, before his presence

had been discovered. Suddenly changing his decision, he quietly turned

about and striving to appear unconcerned advanced and joined the line of

boys who were watching the game. He tried desperately to ignore the

glances which were cast at him from the boys in the line, but he could

not entirely succeed. Nor could he fail to hear some of the words which

were spoken to some of the new boys concerning himself.

Just then the side was out, and as the members of the nine came slowly

in from the field Tim Pickard spied him. His face lighted up with a

malicious smile as he turned to his companions and said: "Here's Ward

Hill, fellows. He used to be a decent sort of a player. Can't we find

a place for him on the scrubs? The nine needs all the practice it can

get, and he'll help us out."

"I don't care to play to-day," said Ward quietly, although he felt his

cheeks flush as he spoke.

His mortification was not diminished when he saw a sardonic grin appear

upon Tim's face and the brutal boy turn and wink meaningly at his

fellows.

Ward stood his ground boldly, however, although in his heart he felt

that he was something of a martyr. It was not just clear to him what

the cause of his suffering was, but his disappointment and

mortification, with which was mingled a feeling of anger, were

uppermost. Not yet did he clearly see that he was reaping the harvest

of the seed he had sown in the preceding year. All that came to him now

was the consciousness that he was being treated unjustly, and his whole

soul rebelled, although he felt entirely powerless to change the

condition of affairs.

"Never you mind, Ward," said Jack consolingly, as he sought his friend's

side as soon as the game was resumed, "it's all going to come out right

in the end."

Ward smiled a little bitterly, but made no other reply.

"Tim's got backing enough to keep you off from the nine now, but it

won't last long. We've just got to have you when it comes to the game

with the Burrs, and that's all there is about it. Tim knows that as

well as any one, and if he wants to he can't keep the fellows back

then."

"Perhaps he can't, but it takes two to make a bargain. Maybe I sha'n't

be so eager as you seem to think I will. I can't do as some of the

fellows do, be just the same to everybody, no matter how they act toward

me."

"I know it," said Jack quietly as he picked up a bat, having heard his

name called, and advanced to face the pitcher.

"It's a shame, Ward!" said Henry who now came up to him. "It's a shame,

that's what it is! I didn't know anything about it till I came down on

the field. I supposed of course you were to have your regular place on

the nine. If there's no place for you, there's no place for me either.

Tim Pickard might as well understand that now as at any other time."

Ward's feelings were somewhat soothed by Henry's words, and he deeply

regretted the manner in which he had just spoken to Jack.

It was too late then to recall his words, and he turned to his chum and

said: "No, old fellow, you're not going to leave the nine on my account.

That would make it all the worse for me, don't you see? You keep on for

a while, anyway. I'm going up to see Mr. Crane now. I think I've had

all the exercise I want, at least for to-day."

Henry said nothing more, though he was strongly inclined to leave with

Ward. He understood thoroughly the sensitive nature of his friend and

appreciated fully the suffering which he must be undergoing now. But

somehow he felt powerless to aid him, and after watching him until he

disappeared from sight he turned with a sigh and waited for his turn to

bat to come.

Ward walked proudly away from the field. He was determined to permit no

one to witness his shame, for he felt humiliated and angry. How was it,

he thought, that such fellows as Tim Pickard could hold and wield such

an influence on the boys? He was not liked, of that he was certain, and

yet in spite of that fact no one in the school apparently had more

followers. Why had Dr. Gray permitted such a fellow to re-enter the

school? He had been expelled once; why should he not have been kept

away entirely? The school certainly would be the better for his

absence.

Ward Hill had yet to learn that "Tim Pickards" were not confined to the

Weston school, but that in every place and condition some one stands who

apparently blocks our way and prevents us from being our best and truest

selves.

However, Ward was honest enough to feel the force of the thought which

immediately followed. Perhaps if Dr. Gray had been only just, more boys

than Tim Pickard might have been prevented from coming back to the

Weston school. Where would he himself be but for Dr. Gray's kindness?

The thought did not tend to lessen his own bitterness, however, and when

at last he entered East Hall and rapped upon the door of Mr. Crane's

room the lad felt utterly wretched. It did seem as if all things were

working together for bad, as far as he was concerned.

Mr. Crane quickly opened the door, and if he read the expression of

misery upon Ward's face he was too wise to mention it. He greeted him

cordially, and as Ward took the proffered seat, he at once began to talk

cheerfully of the life and work of the school.

He spoke quietly--for Mr. Crane was never one to bestow praise

cheaply--concerning the work which Ward was doing, and succeeded in

drawing from the troubled lad so many of his opinions on matters

pertaining to his home life and experiences in Rockford, that in spite

of himself Ward felt his anger and mortification disappearing for the

time, and was soon feeling quite at his ease.

As soon as he perceived that the cloud had passed, Mr. Crane led the

conversation on to the subjects which he knew were in Ward's mind, and

although he did not speak one word directly of them, Ward found himself

wondering how much and what the teacher really knew of his troubles. He

seemed to understand boys almost instinctively, and as Ward listened,

his admiration for the quiet, self-possessed man increased each moment.

"In school life," said Mr. Crane, "there are always two forces which

mostly aid a fellow when he is in trouble, or is trying to build himself

up after a fall. One of these is to feel that there is some one looking

up to him and perhaps depending upon him in many ways. Dr. Arnold was

accustomed to say that the tone of the school life at Rugby was always

largely determined by the older boys themselves. What they were and

what they did became the standards for the younger fellows. I think the

great teacher was exactly right. I have seen many a fellow here who was

careless, and perhaps worse, when he was in the lower classes,

completely changed when he became a senior. The very fact that he knew

the younger boys were looking up to him, as he himself had looked up to

those who had been above him when he first entered the school, has

served to draw out his very best qualities. Yes, I am convinced that

there is nothing which so helps a boy to become a man as to feel that he

is responsible for some one besides himself."

Ward sat silent as Mr. Crane talked, wondering all the while whether he

had learned anything directly concerning him. Certainly he was

describing the very condition which had appealed very strongly to Ward

after Little Pond's conversation with him a few nights before this time.

"What was the other thing which helped a fellow, Mr. Crane?" said Ward

at last, looking up at his teacher as he spoke. "You said there were

two."

"Yes, there's another great help, and that is his anger."

"His anger? I don't think I understand you, Mr. Crane."

"What I mean is this. At times the only force which will rouse one and

compel him to do his level best is to be aroused by some strong feeling

of anger."

"But I thought that was something which was wrong," replied Ward. "I

never heard any one speak like that before."

"Perhaps not," said Mr. Crane quietly, yet smiling as he spoke. "And

yet I firmly believe no boy, or man either for that matter, ever yet did

a great thing without having a feeling of strong anger at the time. I'm

not talking of your irritable men, nor of bad-tempered men. But there

are some things which thoroughly arouse a good man, and the better he is

the more will he be aroused. One who evidently knew of what he was

speaking boldly encouraged us all to 'abhor that which is evil.' The

picture of the peaceful Man of Nazareth in the temple with a scourge in

his hands often comes up before me. Do you know, Hill, I have never

cared much for the faces some men have painted as being that of that

wonderful Man. For myself, I should like to see just how he looked,

that quiet, dignified, gentle soul, when he was aroused as he was in the

temple. It would be an inspiration to me, I know, in some of the

conflicts that go on within me at times."

As Ward still sat silent, Mr. Crane after glancing quietly and keenly at

him, went on. "Yes, Hill, that's exactly what I mean. No man does his

level best until he is thoroughly aroused, and nothing rouses him like a

just anger. Why, think of Washington at Monmouth, when he first

discovered the cowardice or treachery of Lee. His anger must have been

as terrible as it was sublime, and what a wonderful effort he made then

and there. Or you can think of Martin Luther in his anger. What would

he ever have accomplished if he had not been roused almost to madness by

the sight and knowledge of what was going on about him? It is true of

every great man and of every good man too, for when you sum it all up no

one ever becomes a good man--I don't mean 'goody-goody,' but I do mean a

good man--without being at the same time a great man too."

"Do you mean a fellow is to be angry at what he sees inside of himself

or what he sees going on around him?" asked Ward quickly.

"In a sense I mean both," replied Mr. Crane. "There isn't one of us who

doesn't do things, or is tempted at least to do them, for which he

despises himself, and in my opinion he never rises much above them till

he comes to have this feeling of anger of which I've just been

speaking."

"I think I understand what you mean, Mr. Crane," said Ward rising from

his chair. "I never looked at it so before, but you've helped me,

helped me more than I can tell you. I think it was just to hear you say

what you have been saying to me that I must have come here, Mr. Crane."

"Come again then, Hill. Come whenever you wish. I shall always be

pleased to see you."

Ward, as he walked slowly on toward West Hall, of course could not see

the smile on Mr. Crane's face as he stood by the window in his room and

watched the departing lad, nor perhaps would he have understood it if he

had seen it. But Mr. Crane apparently was not displeased at the effect

of his words on his pupil, and soon resumed the work which had been

interrupted by his entrance.

Ward was thinking deeply as he walked along the path. A new and unusual

expression was upon his face, and as he ran up the stairs and stopped

before his door, he took the key from his pocket, and said aloud to

himself, "Ward Hill--the senior." Just what he meant by the expression

he did not explain, perhaps he did not know.

He unlocked the door and started to open it. There was a slight

resistance, and leaning against it he pushed the harder.

The door then flew open, but the opening was followed by a crash which

might have been heard throughout the building. Chairs, tables,

pitchers, lamps, and all the various belongings of the room, had been

piled against the door and fallen in a confused mass all about. The

room was in complete disorder. The carpet had been torn up, and even

the curtains taken from the windows. The bedding was in the middle of

the room, and the water from the pitchers had been poured over it. Even

the beds had been taken apart and the pieces were scattered about over

the floor.

*CHAPTER VII*

*THE TROUBLES ARE INCREASED*

For a moment Ward was speechless as he gazed at the scene of confusion

before him. Whoever had done the work had done it thoroughly, for not

an article of furniture nor a picture on the wall had been left in its

proper place. It was confusion worse confounded upon which he gazed.

Quickly recovering himself, Ward pushed his way into the room and closed

the door behind him. As he examined the heaps and piles before him more

carefully, he became more and more angry. It was such a senseless,

malicious trick to play on him, that Ward felt the indignity the more.

It was true he had known of such things having been done before in the

rooms of other boys, and he had not thought much about it at the time,

or had only laughed good-naturedly when he had heard of the deed; but it

was an entirely different affair when it came home to himself.

"I think even Mr. Crane would be satisfied that I am angry enough now,"

Ward thought, smiling bitterly; "but I don't see that it is going to

help me very much. If the fellow who did it was here, why then I might

turn my anger to advantage."

But even then Mr. Crane's lesson came home to him. "I'll do as he

suggested," thought Ward, "and I'll just turn in and set these things

aright before I have time to get over it."

Angry as Ward was he realized that the mischief must be repaired, and

that he must be the one to repair it.

But first of all he began to investigate the manner in which the

mischief-maker had entered the room. The outside windows were fastened

on the inner side, and no one could have entered through them, even if

he had had the hardihood to make the attempt. The door had been locked

when he had returned, but he soon satisfied himself that some one must

have had a key and used it in his absence.

Naturally his first thought was of Tim Pickard, but Tim was down on the

ballground and must have been there long before Ward had gone. Tim

himself then could not have done it. Who was it? Ward thought over the

boys who would have been most likely to be the guilty ones, but he could

not arrive at any satisfactory conclusion. So many of the boys now were

against him that it might have been any one of twenty whom he could

name.

It was impossible for Ward to banish the thought of Tim Pickard as

having been the prime instigator, however. He would be too shrewd to be

directly implicated in the matter, Ward was well aware of that, but Tim

could work indirectly. There were too many of the boys who were willing

to curry favor with him by any means for him not to be able to find some

one to "pull his chestnuts out of the fire for him," as Ward expressed

it.

Satisfied that he must wait for a solution of the mystery, Ward took off

his coat and resolutely set to work to restore the room to something

like its former state. He quickly moved the furniture, and then after

spreading out the carpet began to tack it to the floor.

He worked on steadily and as quietly as possible, for he had no desire

to be disturbed in his labors or enter into any explanations which a

visitor might desire to have made. Several times some one rapped upon

his door, but Ward did not heed the interruption. He paused in his work

long enough to satisfy himself that the visitor had departed, and then

resumed his labor.

Never before had he worked so hard or so rapidly. He grimly thought of

what Mr. Crane had said concerning anger as a motive for exerting one's

self, and certainly, he thought, in the present case it was working

remarkably well. In much less time than he had deemed it possible the

carpet had been tacked to the floor, and then Ward at once began to

restore the furniture to its proper place. This last was an easy task,

and as Ward glanced at his watch he was surprised to see that he had

been working but little more than an hour. No one would suspect now

from the appearance of the room that it had been "stacked," to use the

Weston term for the upsetting of a boy's room. He then spread out the

bedding in such a manner as to permit it to become dry, and just as he

turned to enter the study room again, some one knocked on the door.

Satisfied that no one would suspect what had occurred, but with his

anger not one whit abated, Ward advanced to the door and slipping back

the bolt, opened it.

"Oh, it's you, Little Pond, is it?" he said as Pond's brother entered

the room. "What's up?" he hastily inquired, as he detected the trace of

tears in the lad's eyes.

"Some one's been in my room and upset everything in it. They've even

poured water all over my bed, and I don't know what I'll do. I've been

working hard for an hour to straighten things out, but I don't think

I've succeeded very well," and the lad's voice almost broke as he spoke.

"Never mind, Pond," said Ward quickly, forgetting for a moment his own

experience and anger at the sight of the trembling lad before him.

"I'll go up and help you, and we'll have it all straightened out before

you know it. You mustn't mind such a little thing as having your room

stacked. It's what every new boy has to expect."

Ward spoke quite bravely. His new role as "Ward Hill the senior" was

already beginning to have its effect upon him, and in the impulse to

help another, he almost forgot his own anger over what a little while

before he had considered an outrage.

"You haven't told any one about it, have you?" inquired Ward.

"No; that is, I haven't to any one except Big Smith."

"And what did Big Smith say?"

"Oh, he said just what you did, not to mind it."

"That was kind of him," remarked Ward drily. "He didn't speak about

being willing to come up and help you set the room up again, did he?"

"Why, no; is he the one who does that?"

"Not exactly. It's strange how many duties he has to do just when any

one else happens to want anything of him. Why, there he is now," he

quickly added as they came out of the room and Ward carefully locked the

door behind him. "I say, Big Smith, I want you. Come up into Little

Pond's room and help set it up. The poor little homesick chap has had

it stacked, and can't fix it alone."

"I should like to, Ward, I really should, but I've some work to do, and

I feel it to be my duty to attend to that first. I'll come up as soon

as I can."

"No, you won't, you'll come now," said Ward angrily. "You're not going

to leave the little chap in any such way."

"But, Ward, I can't," protested Big Smith, "I really can't. I must do

my work first."

"You'd better come. Such fellows as you sometimes have to neglect their

'duties' to set their own rooms up. You'll have your own room stacked

the first thing you know."

"Do you think so?" said Big Smith hastily. "I don't see why any one

should want to bother me in that way. But I'll come up. Perhaps I

ought to, though I do not wish to."

"Come along, then," said Ward; and the three boys at once proceeded to

Pond's room, and by their combined efforts the few belongings were soon

restored to their former places.

"I hope this stacking business isn't going to become the fashion," said

Big Smith solemnly. "It will be a very serious inconvenience to me if I

should have to rearrange my room very often. It would interfere with my

plans very sadly. Do you know, Ward, I heard some one in your room this

afternoon? I thought it was you at first, but when I saw you a little

later coming up the path, of course I knew it wasn't. Since I've been

up here I've been thinking that your room might have been stacked too.

You've been there, of course, and it must be all right, or you'd have

spoken of it."

"My room's all right," replied Ward evasively, though his face flushed

slightly as he spoke. He had no desire that Big Smith should learn of

his misfortune. It was bad enough as it was, without having the report

of it spread broadcast, as would be the case if Big Smith learned of it.

"Have any of the East Hall fellows been over here this afternoon?" he

added.

"No," said Big Smith slowly, "I haven't seen any. Let me see, though, I

did see Jack Hobart talking with Professor Mike a minute, but that was

out in front of West. I don't think he came in. Why?"

"Oh, nothing," replied Ward slowly. He was thinking of that interview

between Jack and the janitor, or Professor Mike, as he was familiarly

known by the boys. Evidently he was troubled by the thought too, for he

was silent for a time, and apparently not aware of the presence of his

companions.

"You're all right now, Little Pond," he said at last. "You can go and

attend to that 'duty' of yours, Big Smith, and I'll go to my room, for

I've a little work that ought to be done. Now don't forget," he added

turning to Pond, "to keep your door locked. Yes, lock it every time you

go out; it's the only safe way."

"It was locked this afternoon," said Pond. "That's what I can't

understand. I don't see how any one could get in."

"It is strange," said Ward thoughtfully, as he departed. "Well, we'll

hope for better things next time. I shouldn't say much about it to any

one, though."

Ward started down the stairs, and in the lower hall, the one into which

his own room opened, he saw the janitor.

"Mike, come in here a minute," he said, opening the door into his room

as he spoke.

The good-natured old Irishman followed him, and as Ward closed the door

said: "I'll be after havin' yez know that me name's not Moike, but

Perfessor. Oi'm the perfessor of dust and ashes, I'd be havin' ye

understand. Oi'm nixt to the principal, Oi am, and indade and Oi've

been here longer nor the doctor has."

"Yes, yes, I know," said Ward quickly, in no mood to enter into the

standing joke of "Professor Mike." "What I want to know is this, has

any one had your keys this afternoon?"

"Me keys, is it? What for should I be after givin' up the badge of me

own office, I'd loike to know? Me and me keys are foriver togither.

We're one and the same, now and foriver. What for should you be after

axin' me such a question as that?"

Ward thought he perceived from the janitor's manner that he was rendered

somewhat uneasy by the question, and resolving to chance all upon one

question, he said:

"Mike, what did you let Jack Hobart have your keys for?"

"Jack Hobart have me keys? Is he that b'y they call 'Speck,' what has a

room over in East Hall? Is he that same?"

"He is that same. Now tell me about your letting him have your keys."

"Indade, and Oi did not let him have me keys."

"All right then, Mike. That's all I wanted to know," and Ward made as

if he were about to shut the door.

"Hold on a bit, will yez?" said Mike, evidently somewhat disturbed. "Oi

did not let Speck have me keys, as Oi'm tellin' yez. But that's not

sayin' as how I might not have lint them to the lad a bit of a minute is

it?"

"You know what I meant, Mike," said Ward, his trouble all returning

instantly. "When did you let him have them? How long did he keep them?

Who was with him?"

"Listin to the lad, will yez. Jist listin to the quistions he can ask,

faster nor any man can count 'em, and he the perfessor of dust and ashes

at that. Now thin, I'll be after tellin' yez all about it," said the

janitor more soberly and evidently troubled more than he cared to show.

"Jack Hobart came to me and he sez, sez he, 'Me room's locked Mike and I

can't git in,' which same is true. Sez I, 'Why don't yez take yer key

then, and unlock the door, me bye.' 'That same's what I'd loike to do,'

sez Jack, 'but I've lost me key and Jacob's gone to his dinner.' Ah,

that's what comes of having a haything for a perfessor of dust and ashes

instid of a white man loike mesilf. So whin the lad asked me to lind

him the loan of me keys, I did that same. He didn't be after havin' 'em

more nor tin minutes, and I shouldn't be surprised at all, at all, if he

didn't have 'em a speck over nine. There's bin no harm done, Oi'm

thinkin'?"

Mike could not conceal his anxiety. He had violated a strict rule of

the school in lending his bunch of keys to any one. He himself ought to

have gone and tried the keys himself if any one used them, and this Ward

knew as well as Mike.

"Mike," he said solemnly, "you've got yourself into trouble. There have

been some rooms stacked in West Hall this afternoon, and you're the one

to blame for it too. You had no right to let any fellow in this school

have your keys."

"Indade and that same is true," said the troubled Michael. "Now, Mr.

Ward, you'll not be after reportin' it to the doctor, Oi'm thinkin'?

The principal has enough to think of without addin' to his cares and

burdens. Yez will not be after doin' that, I know, Mr. Ward?"

The janitor could not entirely conceal his fears, and Ward quickly

resolving to make use of them for his own advantage, said, "Not yet,

Mike, anyway. But those East Hall fellows must not come over here and

stack our rooms. Now if you'll promise to keep quiet and help me find

out who does the mischief, it'll be all right. But you'll have to keep

a careful watch. If the thing happens again, Dr. Gray ought to know of

it."

"Oi'll trap 'em, me lad. Oi'll help yez to fix 'em! I will that."

"All right then, Mike. But mind, now, you'll have to keep both eyes

open."

Michael departed troubled and yet elated over Ward's words, just as

Henry entered the room. Ward at first had thought he would not tell his

room-mate of what had occurred, but changing his mind, he soon told

Henry all about it.

His room-mate's anger was great when he had listened to the story, and

many were his expressions of sympathy. He too realized that Ward was

likely to have a long and bitter struggle in the school now, and to the

boy's credit be it said, he did not once think of the trouble it might

bring upon him as Ward's chum.

His words were comforting to the troubled Ward, who could bear the ill

will of his fellows least of all. Indeed, the heaviness in Ward's heart

arose most of all from his loss of popularity, and how he would bear it

not even he himself could tell.

He soon went with Henry to the dining hall, but was silent most of the

time. The slight on the ball-field, the loss of his position on the

nine, and the "stacking" of his room, had all combined to render him

somewhat heavy-hearted and disinclined to enter into conversation with

any one.

Henry understood his friend's mood and neither of them spoke on their

way back to their room when supper was over. They climbed the stairs

together, and then Ward took his key from his pocket to open the door.

As he pushed it back an exclamation of anger burst from his lips. The

room had again been "stacked" in their absence, and a scene of

indescribable confusion, very similar to that which Ward had faced in

the afternoon, again lay before them.

*CHAPTER VIII*

*PERPLEXITY*

An exclamation of anger burst forth from Ward's lips, and even Henry's

ordinary calm was somewhat disturbed by the sight. Chairs, tables,

bedding, and carpets were all piled in one indiscriminate mass in the

center of the room. The dim light from the hall only served to increase

the impression of confusion.

"Well, Henry," said Ward ruefully, when they entered the room and had

carefully shut the door, "it's too bad that you have to be punished too

for my sins. Whoever did this, evidently intended to make a thorough

piece of work of it. Isn't it a sight to behold!"

"Never mind me, Ward," said Henry quietly. "I'm ready to take my share;

all I'm sorry about is that somebody has such a mean spirit. What fun

there can be in tearing everything to pieces like this I cannot see for

my part."

"It hasn't been done for the fun of it; you can rest easy about that,"

replied Ward. "I wish the one who did it was here now. I'd make him

take a hand in fixing up the room again. Hello, the lamp's broken!" he

added angrily as he found the broken lamp in the midst of the heap on

the floor. "Yes, and they've poured the oil all over everything too.

It's a good deal worse than it was this afternoon and that was bad

enough. We'll have to borrow a lamp, I'm thinking."

"No, mine's all right," said Henry quickly, as he drew forth his own

lamp from the border of the confused mass.

In a moment he had lighted it, and both boys stood for a moment and

gazed ruefully at the wreck before them. Ward was almost too angry to

speak now. All his quiet labor in the afternoon had been useless, and

now a task even worse than the one which he had faced then was before

him.

"We might as well go at it now as any time," said Henry quietly,

removing his coat as he spoke, and preparing to begin the work. "It's

got to be done, Ward, and the sooner we do it the better. Come on, old

fellow, we'll soon have it all straightened out."

Ward made no reply, but he at once prepared to follow his room-mate's

example, and soon both boys were busily at work. Several times there

came a rap on their door, but they did not heed it, for neither was in a

mood to welcome callers.

They continued eagerly at the task, working rapidly, and it was not long

before the room began to take on once more something of its former

appearance. The study bell had rung, however, before their labors were

ended, and the rap on the door which soon came they recognized at once

as Mr. Blake's.

Ward himself opened the door in response to the summons, and as he stood

facing the tall teacher the flush on his face caused by his anger and

his exertions had not entirely disappeared.

"I'm surprised, Hill, not to find you at your studies. A senior ought

not to set an example like this. I shall wait to see that you begin

your work promptly and properly."

Ward was too angry to offer any explanation. He bade Mr. Blake enter,

and as he offered him a chair, he saw that Henry had at last succeeded

in partially adjusting the last remaining belongings of the room.

"We're all right now, Mr. Blake," said Henry quietly. "There were some

things which had to be attended to before we could begin to study."

"You ought not to take the study hours for such work," responded Mr.

Blake, rising as he spoke. "I've heard you pounding up here for some

time, and hoped you'd settle down so as not to disturb the others. You

ought to bear in mind that there are other boys as well as yourselves in

West Hall, and some of them I'm glad to say manifest a disposition to

work."

As Mr. Blake went out of the room Ward could restrain himself no longer.

"That's always the way with that man!" he said angrily. "No matter what

you do, or how hard you try, it's all the same. He has to put in his

word and it's always the wrong word at the right time too. I wish he

didn't have charge of West Hall."

"Oh, well, never mind, Ward. He doesn't understand us very well, that's

a fact; but so long as we know he doesn't, we know about what to expect.

We'll get to work now and forget all about Mr. Blake, and that the room

ever was stacked. It doesn't look how as if it had been troubled. You

can't see anything wrong about it, can you?"

"No, but I can smell it," said Ward half-laughingly, for the odor of the

kerosene which had been spilled was only too apparent in the room.

However, the boys soon seated themselves by Henry's table and began

their work for the evening. It was some time before Ward could bring his

thoughts to bear upon the work in hand, but at last he succeeded and

studied hard all the evening.

"There, I haven't my work all done," he said when at last the bell was

rung indicating that the end of the study hour had come. "I must have

more time. I'm going down to ask Mr. Blake for permission to sit up a

little longer."

"Let me go," said Henry quickly, but Ward was out of the room by this

time and made no reply.

In response to his request Mr. Blake shook his head and refused

permission. Ward went slowly back to his room thoroughly angry. The

teacher's manner betrayed his suspicion of the boy, and Ward did not

take time to consider that Mr. Blake did not know anything of the new

resolution he had formed, or of the struggle which was going on in his

own mind.

He closed the door with a slam as he came back and expressed his opinion

in no mild terms of the man who was in charge of West Hall. Henry

strove to soothe the angry feelings of his room-mate, but without avail,

and when at last the boys retired for the night, Ward's anger had

steadily increased.

"Even Mr. Crane would be satisfied now," he thought as he drew the

bedclothes up around him. "I've got enough anger, as he called it, to

supply every boy in West Hall."

But he was too tired to cherish his feelings for any length of time and

was soon asleep.

He was awake long before the breakfast hour, and hastily arising resumed

his studying. By the time Henry had joined him he had his work all

done, and felt that he was thoroughly ready for the tasks of the day.

The fact gave him much satisfaction, and when they started toward the

dining hall much of his anger had disappeared, so far as any outward

manifestation of it was concerned; but deep down in his heart Ward was

thinking of his own troubles. Perhaps he even tried to cherish the

feeling of anger a trifle, for it was so much more easy to work and face

the school when he was aroused, than it was when only the fact of his

own unpopularity was most apparent.

However, he had decided upon one course of action, at least, and that

was what he would have to say to Jack Hobart. A fine friend he was!

After all his protestations of friendship, to go over to West Hall and

get the keys to his room! For Ward had not a doubt in his mind that

Jack had been the one to carry out the scheme which he believed Tim

Pickard had concocted. Not that Jack had "stacked" the room himself.

Ward did not for a moment believe that. But he knew Jack Hobart so well

that he was certain he would strive to keep in the good graces of all

the school, and if he saw the tide setting too strongly against him Ward

somehow felt that Jack would desert him. Had he not done that very

thing in the preceding year? It was true he had professed to be sorry,

but what did "feeling sorry" amount to, since he failed to stand beside

him when troubles came?

Jack had expected trouble to come too, and Ward thought somewhat

bitterly of his friend's words, and how he had declared that his

vertebrae and upper lip should manifest their power in the time of

trial. And the trying time had come.

Ward thought of the scene a few days before this time at the Rockford

Station, when Jack had come on the afternoon train. How eager he had

been then for him to come back to the Weston school! And what strong

words concerning his own friendship he had used too! And Ward had

believed him; that was the worst of it all.

But the "Tangs" had declared against him, and the troubled boy could not

entirely shake off the feeling that Jack had not broken with them, and

that his own troubles were mainly to be traced to that body. Doubtless

they were compelling Jack to bear his share now, and were hoping to

increase his own troubles by that very fact.

Ward's heart was filled with these somewhat bitter reflections as he

entered the Latin room. How cool all the boys were to him! Scarcely

any one had a word for him now, and only a few months before they had

been free enough with their applause and words of praise.

Jack was already in his seat when Ward entered and his beaming face

showed that he evidently was waiting for him to come.

"I say, valedic," said Jack, as Ward took his seat, "just translate a

bit of this stuff for me, will you? It's too much for me. My massive

brain is not equal for the task."

"There won't be time," said Ward coldly. "Here's Mr. Crane now."

Jack looked at him a moment in surprise and Ward noticed somewhat

bitterly that he was evidently pained too. What a hypocrite he must be!

or else Ward must have been mistaken in supposing Jack was concerned in

the upsetting of his room. But that was hardly possible. Had not Mike

himself said he had loaned his bunch of keys to him? Surely no other one

then could be at fault.

The recitation now began and as Ward was soon called upon to recite, all

other thoughts were immediately banished from his mind. He did his work

well and noted the quiet smile upon Mr. Crane's face as he took his

seat. It was the mark of approval which he always gave when the work

was done to his complete satisfaction.

Ward's troubles, however, soon returned. Of what advantage was it all

for him to do well in his classes when apparently the hand of every

fellow in the school seemed to be turned against him? Outside of Henry

and Little Pond it did not seem as if he had a friend left. He wished

he had not come back to the school. But he had come, there was no

escape from that fact, and all that remained now was to be as brave as

possible and not be overcome by his enemies.

And yet how easy it would be to put an end to all his annoyances and

once more be at peace with the boys. There was his place on the nine

too; he knew he could have it again. All he would have to do to regain

that and also to have the popularity which once was his, was to go in

with the "Tangs" once more.

Ward glanced up at Mr. Crane. How he did respect the man! How kind he

had been during the summer, and how sincere his interest was now! Then

too, there was Little Pond, who placed such implicit confidence in him.

He was almost irritated by the dependence of the lad, and yet he liked

the little fellow in spite of it all. No, he could not yield now, Ward

thought. He had begun, and he must carry the struggle through to the

end.

When the hour came to a close, Ward realized that although he had made a

good recitation himself, he had not heard much of what had been said by

either Mr. Crane or the boys. He had been busied with his own thoughts

and fighting again the battle which seemed as if it never was to cease.

"I say, Jack," he said as the boys rose to pass out of the room, "I want

to see you."

"I'm glad of it, Ward," replied Jack as he joined Ward, and they walked

together across the campus toward Dr. Gray's room. "I'd begun to think

you never wanted to see me again. I've been racking my brains to see

what the difficulty was."

"Jack," said Ward, apparently ignoring his declaration, "what did you

get Professor Mike's keys for yesterday?"

"What did I get Mike's keys for?" repeated Jack, a look of astonishment

creeping over his face as he spoke. "I don't know what you mean. I

haven't had his keys."

His astonishment apparently was sincere and for the first time Ward's

heart misgave him. Could it be that he had been mistaken? But there

was the janitor's own declaration. He himself had said he had loaned

the keys to Jack, and certainly he could have no motive in saying so if

it had not been true. He had implicated himself by the statement as it

was, and had openly confessed to violating one of the strictest of Dr.

Gray's rules by doing so. No, Mike must have told the truth; there

could be no other explanation.

"You haven't had Mike's keys?" said Ward, slowly turning and looking

Jack full in the face.

"No; honor bright, I haven't had 'em, Ward. No, hold on! Let me see!

Come to think of it, I did ask him for them yesterday, that's a fact,

but I'd forgotten all about it till you brought it back to my benighted

mind."

"Oh, then you did have them," said Ward bitterly, not able to repress

the sneer on his face as he spoke.

"Why, yes," said Jack. "The way of it was this, I was over by West

Hall. The fact is, Ward, I was there to get you to go down to the ball

ground. One of the boys wanted to get a bat which was up in my room,

but Luscious had my keys and I asked Mike for his. There was no harm in

that, was there, Ward?"

"Who was the fellow that you gave them to, or did you go yourself?"

"No, I didn't go myself; but I see there's something wrong, so I don't

believe I ought to tell you who the chap was. I'm afraid there's

something off color."

"Very well," said Ward; "of course you can do as you please about that.

I think, though, I may be able to get along without your information.

You'd made so many protests that you were my friend that I didn't know

but you'd be willing to help me out in this. But I sha'n't trouble you

if you don't want to tell me."

Ward could see a look of pain come over Jack's face as he spoke, but his

own heart was hard and bitter, and apparently he cared but little for

the effect his words might produce.

"I say, Ward, old fellow," said Jack quietly, "don't talk like that. It

hurts me. I was just going to say something to you, but the way you act

makes me think you wouldn't care to hear it."

They were now at the entrance to the recitation room and the

conversation naturally ceased. Ward was sadly perplexed. Jack's

astonishment and evident pain at his words troubled him greatly.

Jack was willing to enter into conversation when the recitation was

over, but Ward hastened out of the room and gave him no opportunity.

The truth was he was so troubled by Jack's manner that he was afraid he

would give in to him and in his anger he had resolved not to do that.

When he opened the door into his room, his anger, knew no bounds when

again he discovered that the room was in confusion. Twice during the

rest of that week the same thing occurred, and both Ward and Henry were

desperate. Something must be done.

"Mike," said Ward sharply to the janitor, whom he met alone in the hall

on Friday afternoon, "our room is stacked every day and you're no good

as a watch. I believe some one has taken the key to my room from your

ring. Look and see, will you?"

The "professor of dust and ashes" fumbled at the huge bunch he carried,

and very much crestfallen at last said, "Indade and yer right, Mister

Ward. The key's not here at all, at all."

"That's what I thought. Now see if 'twenty-three' is gone too."

Twenty-three was the number of Little Pond's room.

"Be jabbers and that's gone too. Ye'll not be after tellin' the

principal, will yez?" said Mike anxiously.

"I don't know. I'll see about that later. Mike, can you put a new lock

on my door and on Pond's this afternoon? I mean while we're here and no

one will see you at the work?"

"Indade, and I can that," replied the anxious janitor.

"Well, do it then right away. I've got a plan for catching the rascals

and I want the new lock on right off. If you can do that now, it will

help me and I sha'n't have to see the doctor."

Mike departed and returned with two new locks, which he at once placed

on the doors, Ward meanwhile keeping watch to see that the work of the

janitor was not discovered, and cautioning him about keeping his

duplicate key.

With a feeling of elation, Ward at once prepared to put his newly formed

plan into execution.

*CHAPTER IX*

*AN INTERVIEW WITH JACK*

Ward at once left his room and went to search for Little Pond. He met

the lad coming across the campus, and in response to his invitation, the

little fellow immediately returned with him, and for a long time they

sat together in Pond's room and talked over the plan which Ward had

formed.

"You see it's this way," said Ward. "We can't let this thing go on

forever, for it's beginning to tell on us already. What with setting

the room to rights and never knowing what to expect, it doesn't leave

very much time for studying, and that's what I want this term. Now Mike

has put a new lock on my door and on yours too, so these fellows won't

be able to break in for a day or two, anyway."

"Then I don't see what you can do," said Pond. "If they can't get in,

they can't do any mischief, and if they don't do any mischief, you can't

catch them."

"That's all true; but what I want is to find out who the fellows are. I

know well enough now, but I want the proof, you see. Now, my plan is

this. They won't have any keys to the new locks, so they can't get in

now if they try, and I don't think they'll try to-day. But to-morrow is

Saturday, and in the afternoon we don't have any recitations, you know.

Well, I'm going off up to the glen to-morrow afternoon and I'll take

pains to let it be known that I sha'n't be in my room. That'll leave

the coast all clear, you see, and I think somebody will be pretty sure

to come up and try to get in while I'm away. Then I want you to stay in

your room and keep watch. You can have your door just a little bit

ajar, and whenever you hear any one coming up the stairs, you can keep

an eye on them. You can see them without being seen yourself, and if

they go and try to get in my room, or come up to yours, why, then we'll

know who it is that's doing the work, though I don't think there's any

difficulty now in picking out the ones who have been the prime movers in

it."

"All right, Ward," replied Pond; "I'll do it."

"You see it's as much to your advantage as it is to mine," said Ward, as

he rose to depart. "We don't want this thing kept up any longer, and I

think if we can catch the fellows now, we'll put an end to it, though it

may break out somewhere else in a worse way."

Satisfied with what he had done, Ward ran down the stairs, and just as

he was unlocking the door of his room, Henry and Jack Hobart came up

together into the hall. Ward's first impulse was to turn and leave the

building. He had no desire to meet Jack then, but quickly changing his

purpose, he unlocked the door and waited for the two boys to enter.

"Hello, Ward!" said Jack. "We've been talking about you, and finally

decided we'd better stop that and come straight over here and talk to

you."

Ward made no reply, and as Henry was apparently busied in arranging the

papers and books on his table, Jack felt that the burden of the

conversation was resting upon himself.

Ward noticed that he was somewhat constrained in his manner, nor was he

displeased to see it. For was not Jack the one who had obtained Mike's

key? And while he might not be the one who had wrought the mischief in

his room, still he was so thoroughly satisfied in his own mind that Jack

was aware of what was going on and had lent his influence to further it,

that it was with something of a feeling of satisfaction he noted the

evident uneasiness of his visitor.

"The way of it is this," said Jack, breaking in upon the awkward

silence. "We need you on the nine, Ward, there's no mistake about that.

If we are going to have any show against the Burrs this fall, we've just

got to have your help. There's no mistake about that, and that's what

I've come over to talk with you about."

"Did Tim Pickard send you?" asked Ward, making no effort to conceal the

sneer on his face.

"No," said Jack quietly, "and that's where the mischief comes in.

There's no doubt that Tim's down on you, Ward. You don't need me to

tell you that."

"Hardly."

"But Tim isn't the whole of the Weston school. It's true he's got a lot

of the fellows under his thumb and they'll do just what he tells them

to. That's the way he succeeded in shutting you off from the nine. He

pretended to call a meeting, but he never told Henry here nor me about

it. He claims he had a majority there and that they voted not to have

you on the nine this fall. He couldn't have done it if we'd been there,

and Tim knows it too."

Ward still made no reply save to glance at Jack, who was now talking

eagerly and apparently had overcome his recent feeling of embarrassment.

"Henry and I have been talking it over," continued Jack, "and we've

about decided that we've found a way out, and that's what I came over

especially to explain. Now, Ward, if you'll go in with us I think we'll

have it fixed up in no time."

"I can't go in when I don't know what it is you want me to go into."

"It's this, Ward. Henry and I have decided that we sha'n't play on the

nine unless you are taken on too."

"What?" said Ward abruptly.

He could hardly believe the words he had just heard. That Jack, who had

taken Professor Mike's key, and who plainly must be aware of the

troubles which were besetting him now on every side, should be the one

to make such a proposition as that to which he had just listened seemed

to Ward almost incredible. It would completely change every plan in his

mind if Jack meant what he had said, and so far as appearances went, the

boy seemed to be thoroughly in earnest.

"Yes," said Jack, "that's just what I mean. I don't believe that even

Tim would care to lose both Henry and me just now, for he'd know he'd

have the whole school down on him at once. It's bad enough to lose you,

and there are a lot of the fellows who don't like it a little bit. Tim

knows it, but he won't let on. Now, if Henry and I just quit too, it'll

place Tim in a box too tight even for him."

"Then your plan is to force Tim to take me on the nine by threatening to

leave yourselves if he doesn't, is it?" said Ward slowly.

"That's it, that's it," said Jack eagerly. "He'll have to come to time

then."

"Well, I don't think I shall do it," said Ward deliberately. "Not that

I shouldn't like to play on the nine. I'm not foolish enough to deny

that, for I should, of course; but I don't care to force myself in where

I'm not wanted."

"That isn't it, Ward," said Jack still more eagerly. "You are

wanted--that is, nearly every fellow in the school wants you except Tim

Pickard. Now, the question is whether you're going to let one fellow

like Tim stand against the whole school. Why, I think even Luscious

will go into the scheme and help squeeze Tim."

Ward felt that in spite of all his efforts his heart was becoming

softer. Always susceptible to praise, the words of Jack were like balm

to his troubled soul. He longed, far more than any one knew, to be at

peace with the boys, and if once he were restored to his position on the

nine, he felt confident he could easily regain his popularity.

But his anger at Tim was still strong, though Jack puzzled him sadly.

Could it be that he had a share in the schemes which were then afoot?

The mystery of the stolen key certainly indicated something of the kind,

and yet with all his faults Jack Hobart would not lie, Ward felt assured

of that. The thought of Jack's honesty suddenly brought Ward to a quick

determination. He would speak to him without reserve of his troubles

and see how he received his words.

"Jack," he said abruptly, "did you know that we'd had our room stacked

almost every day since we came back to Weston?"

"No," said Jack in genuine surprise; "I didn't know a thing about it.

You've kept it to yourself pretty well, not even to mention it to me."

"Well, it's been stacked, that's sure. I think we've spent more time

tacking down our carpet and setting up our beds than we have in

studying; haven't we, Henry?"

Henry glanced up in surprise that Ward should mention their trouble, but

he smiled and nodded his head by way of reply, though he did not speak.

"Ward, that's tough," said Jack soberly. "I'm sorry you didn't tell me

about it, for maybe I could have helped you. Have you any idea who it

is that's doing it?"

"Yes," said Ward sharply; "but I'm only waiting for positive proof, and

I think I'm close on to the track of that. One thing I've found out for

sure, and that's some help."

"What's that?"

"Oh, nothing much. Only that Mike has lost two of his keys and we know

who took them. It wasn't very much of a trick to find that out, you

know." Ward spoke quietly, but he was watching keenly to see what the

effect of his words upon Jack would be.

Suddenly Jack looked up and his face flushed deeply. "Ward," said he,

"was that the reason you asked me the other day if I had borrowed Mike's

bunch of keys?"

"Yes," said Ward quietly.

"Well, old fellow, I don't know what I can say, if you really think I'd

do such a thing. I did ask for the loan of the keys, that's a fact, but

I didn't use them myself." Jack acted as if he were about to say more,

but hesitated and became silent.

Ward was puzzled and his manner clearly betrayed the fact. The silence

in the room was decidedly awkward for all concerned, and the boys

shifted uneasily in their seats.

Jack was the first to speak, as he said: "It looks queer, I know, Ward,

but I don't want to tell you who took the keys. There's something

crooked, and I'm going to help you out of the scrape if I can. I'd tell

you in a minute, I would honestly, who took the keys from me, but I am

just sure he didn't stack your room. But I'll help you find out and

I'll help you straighten out the fellow too."

"I think the 'Tangs' may have had something to do with it," said Ward.

It was the first time the name of the secret organization had been

mentioned since he had left school at the close of the preceding year.

Somehow it had been a tabooed subject and neither had referred to it in

their letters or conversation. Jack had considered it a subject on

which Ward might be somewhat sensitive, and Ward had been uncertain as

to what Jack's plans would be.

"What makes you think the 'Tangs' had anything to do with it?" said

Jack, after a pause of a moment, in which the uneasiness of the boys was

still marked.

"Because I received one of their gentle little epistles before this

trouble began."

"I haven't heard a word of the 'Tangs' since I came back to school,"

said Jack thoughtfully. "I didn't know they'd started up again, and I'm

sure I hoped the thing was dead. It is dead so far as I'm concerned,

for I've washed my hands of the whole business. I told Tim so before I

came back to school, and if he knows when he's well off he'll let it

alone too. He's got enough to do to keep himself straight with the

faculty without going into the 'Tangs' again. But, Ward, I mean just

what I say; I'm going to take off my coat and help you to find out about

this matter, and if we once catch the fellow we'll give him a dose

that'll cure him, I know."

"Thank you."

"You don't appear to be very enthusiastic," said Jack quietly.

It was evident that he was hurt by Ward's apparent lack of confidence in

him; but his affection for his friend was so genuine and strong that he

plainly was not to be put off by any of Ward's rebuffs.

"We'll talk about that later," said Jack as he rose to depart. "What I

want to know now is whether you'll come down on the ball-ground

to-morrow afternoon, and then Henry and I'll speak our little piece to

Tim and we'll have it out. Tim'll give in, I know he will, for he isn't

over happy as it is. He knows how a good many of the fellows feel, and

besides that he wants the nine strengthened."

"I can't do it, Speck," said Ward at last, using the familiar nickname

by which he had been accustomed to call his friend, for the first time

in several days. "It's mighty good of you; but, you see, I just couldn't

go on the nine in any such way as that."

"Then Henry and I'll quit too," said Jack emphatically.

"No, you won't. That would certainly spoil it all. I want you both to

keep right on. There's no necessity for you to give up because I can't

go in, and besides I've something else in mind just now, and if you both

leave it'll spoil it all. I couldn't come down to-morrow, anyway, for

I've planned to go and spend the afternoon up at the glen. Honest,

Speck, I do thank you for your offer. It's mighty good of you, but I

don't want you to do it yet, anyway. Maybe a little later I'll come in,

but not just yet."

"All right, Ward. Have it your own way. You always do, somehow. Well,

I must go over and see how Luscious is making out. He's a fine fellow,

Luscious is, and he's going to push you for the valedic, as sure's you

live."

"He's a good worker; any one can see that," said Ward as Jack departed.

"The plot thickens," he added turning to Henry. "For the life of me I

can't see the way out as yet."

"I feel sure of one thing," said Henry, "and that is, that Jack's had

nothing to do with it."

"I hope you're right," replied Ward thoughtfully; "but it's strange

about those keys."

"Yes; but Jack can explain it, and he will before long."

Ward then explained the plan he had formed with Little Pond, and Henry

agreed with him that it would be better for him and Jack to go down to

the ball-ground, in view of what Ward had it in mind to do, and to

appear as if they were not suspicious of any one or of any thing.

Accordingly, on the following afternoon Ward started out with Big Smith

for a tramp to the glen, one of the favorite resorts of the Weston boys.

He had taken pains to speak of his intended absence in the hearing of

several of the boys of whom he had felt somewhat suspicious, and after

having conferred with Little Pond, who promised to observe all his

directions, the two boys departed from West Hall.

Ward's heart was much lighter than it had been for several days now.

Puzzled as he was over Jack's part in the affair, the evident affection

he had recently displayed led Ward to believe that still he was not

entirely without friends. Even Big Smith was not to be despised, and

Ward was surprised to observe the many changes which had come over the

strange lad. His assumption had not entirely disappeared, and his

former complete ignorance that there was any one else in the world of

quite as much importance as he, was not yet all gone. But Big Smith was

learning some of the lessons which in another form Ward Hill himself was

also compelled to learn.

That morning Doctor Gray in his chapel talk had referred to the story of

Wellington, when at one time he had visited the great English school at

Eton, and after watching the eager crowd of boys in their struggles and

games, had said, "Here Waterloo was won."

Ward was thinking of the words all that afternoon. If Wellington had

really won the victory of Waterloo at Eton, then Napoleon must have lost

it under similar conditions, he thought, and he wondered whether Weston

might not be solving some such problems also. As for himself, Ward Hill

fully appreciated the fact that he was in the midst of a struggle, and

to the lad's credit be it said, out of it all came a stronger

determination that his battle should not be lost.

He had enjoyed the afternoon thoroughly, and when he returned he ran

eagerly up to Little Pond's room to learn whether he had discovered

anything or not.

"Yes," said Pond, "I've found out some things. Come in and I'll tell you

all about it."

Ward eagerly followed his little friend into his room, and taking a

seat, turned to listen to what Pond had to tell him.

*CHAPTER X*

*THE SCENE IN RIPLEY'S ROOM*

"I kept the door open a little," began Pond, "so that I could hear any

one who might come up the stairs. Most of the fellows were down on the

ball-ground or had gone off on the hills, so there wasn't very much

going on. I think I'd been waiting more than an hour before I heard a

sound that was in any way suspicious, and I'll own up I began to be a

little tired. I thought there wasn't any one going to come and I'd

about made up my mind there wasn't any use in watching any longer, and I

was just about to get a book and go to reading when I heard a step on

the lower stairway. Of course there wasn't anything very bad in that,

for I knew some of the fellows would be running in and out on a

half-holiday, but there was something a little strange in this

particular case. The fellow would come up two or three steps--and he

didn't make very much noise about it either--and then he'd stop a minute

before he came on."

"Was there only one?" inquired Ward, deeply interested in what Pond was

relating.

"Only one then. Well, the fellow came up to the floor on which your

room is and then he stopped. I couldn't see him of course, as he'd gone

up to your door, I judged. I didn't just know what to do, and when I'd

made up my mind to go out and take a peep over the railing, I heard the

fellow come back to the head of the stairs and give a low whistle. You'd

better believe I was excited about that time, but I managed somehow to

keep quiet and wait. Pretty soon another fellow came up the stairs, and

then I heard them go through the hall and stop, as I thought, before

your door."

"Go on, go on," said Ward quickly, as Pond seemed to hesitate a moment.

"Well, I crept out of my room, and I wasn't making very much noise

either, you can believe, and as I went down the stairway a few steps,

trying hard all the time to keep perfectly quiet, I bent over and took a

peep at your hall. There were two chaps right in front of your door."

"What were they doing?"

"They were working at the lock with a key which one of them took out of

his pocket. Somehow the key didn't work very well, for I've a notion

that Mike hadn't told them about the new locks he'd put on your door and

mine."

"Too bad," said Ward. "Well, what did they do then?"

"One of them happened to look up and he saw me peeking at them. I tried

to dodge back so that they couldn't see me, but I was too late; they'd

spied me. They made a rush through the hall and up the stairs to my

room, but I'd got inside before they'd come, and bolted the door. They

coaxed and teased me to open up for 'em, but I wasn't to be caught by

any such chaff as that, and then they began to threaten me with all

sorts of terrible things. They tried too, to open my door with a key,

but it wasn't of any use, and if they had had a key that would have

fitted the lock it wouldn't have helped them any, for the door was

bolted on the inside, you see."

"Who were the fellows?"

"One of 'em was Ripley; he rooms over in East I think, but I didn't know

who the other was. I could tell him if I saw him again, though, I'm

sure of that."

Ward sat silent for a moment. He knew Ripley well. He was in the class

below him. He had never regarded him as a vicious boy, and the worst

thing he knew about him was that he belonged to the "Tangs." He also

recalled the fact that he was a great admirer of Tim Pickard, and while

he was not an intimate friend, he had seen him many times in Tim's

company. He was a boy Tim could easily influence and would follow any

orders the leader might give him.

The mystery was becoming somewhat cleared now. Doubtless Tim was the

one to whom Jack had given Mike's bunch of keys, and he had not only

gone to Jack's room and obtained the bat they wanted, but he had taken

the keys to Ward's and Pond's rooms from the ring at the same time. It

was all clear now, and Ward felt a great relief as he satisfied himself

that Jack was innocent of any knowledge or share in the stacking of his

room.

"You've done well, Little Pond," said Ward warmly, as he rose to depart.

"I think we can put a stop to this particular line of fun now. I think

I'll go over and begin the operation at once."

"Where are you going, Ward? Can't I go with you?" called Little Pond

from the head of the stairway; but Ward was already in the lower hall

and made no reply. He wanted to be alone now and while his heart was

hot within him to carry out the further plan he had already quickly

formed.

The eager boy walked swiftly across the campus toward East Hall. He was

not at all sure that he would find Ripley in his room, but he would at

least find out whether he was or not, and as the bell for supper would

soon be rung he wished to do that much before he went to the dining

hall.

As he drew near East Hall he saw a crowd of boys returning from the

ball-ground. Their presence in the building might greatly complicate

matters, so he increased his speed and leaping up two steps at a time he

ran up the stairs to the third floor and rapped on the door of Ripley's

room.

Ripley himself opened the door, but as soon as he saw who his caller

was, he tried to shut the door in his face. Ward, however, was too

quick for him, and slipped into the room, and then he himself shut the

door and instantly bolted it.

He was thoroughly angry now. Ripley plainly betrayed his guilt and

alarm by his manner, and as Ward looked at him a moment in silence the

first impulse in his heart was to mete out a summary and just punishment

for the sneaking outrage of which he had been guilty.

As Ward glanced about the well-furnished room and contrasted it with his

own somewhat bare apartments in West Hall, his bitterness increased.

Was it not enough that he should be compelled to go without many of the

things which such a fellow as Ripley had for the asking, without also

having to suffer all the petty annoyances which the latter chose to

inflict upon him? His anger was clearly manifest, for the troubled lad

was in a towering rage, and as he realized that the boy he thought had

stacked his room so many times was at last in his power, his first and

natural impulse was to express his feelings in a manner which Ripley

might not enjoy, but which he would certainly remember.

Ripley evidently was alarmed. His pale face and trembling hands plainly

revealed that. He stood watching his caller, and not a word had as yet

been spoken.

Suddenly Ripley started toward the open window. Ward instantly suspected

that he was about to call to the crowd of boys who were then on the

ground below and stood talking together near the entrance.

Before the boy could reach the place, however, or open his lips to call

to his friends, Ward leaped before him, and standing with his back to

the window, he said to the frightened lad before him:

"None of that, Ripley; keep away from these windows. I'll fix it so that

they won't do you any good," he quickly added, as he instantly turned

and removed the prop which held the window up. The sash fell and Ripley

perceived that it would be useless to call for help, and that he stood

alone before the angry young senior.

"Now, Ripley, I've come over to have it out with you." Ward spoke

slowly and in a low tone of voice, but the very quietness of his manner

increased the alarm of the boy before him.

"I-I d-don't know what you mean, Ward Hill; what have I done?"

"What have you done?" retorted Ward, his voice rising as his anger broke

forth. "What haven't you done? Who's stacked my room almost every day?

Who's poured kerosene over my bedding? Who's done the thousand and one

contemptible things that no one but a sneak and a coward would ever

think of doing?" Ward's anger was rapidly increasing and as he

enumerated his woes, each fresh mention of them served to enrage him the

more.

"I never stacked your room, Ward Hill; I've never been in it since I've

been in the Weston school; I never touched your bedclothes or your lamp;

I haven't been in West Hall but once since I came back to school this

fall. Honest, Ward, I'm telling you the truth; I am, Ward. Won't you

believe me?"

All the fear of the lad seemed to speak in his words and voice, and for

a moment Ward was almost staggered. And yet had not Little Pond told

him less than half an hour before that he had seen this very lad trying

to get into his room? Had Pond been mistaken? No, it could not be

possible. The very manner of Ripley betrayed his guilt.

"Ripley," said Ward more slowly, "you were seen in West Hall this very

afternoon when you were trying to get into my room. You can't deny

that." He waited a moment, but the boy before him did not speak.

"If the truth was known," continued Ward, "I believe you've got the very

key you tried to use in your pocket now. What were you doing there?" he

added sternly.

"I was there this afternoon, but it was my first turn--I mean the first

time I'd been there. I haven't been in West Hall before this term."

Ward hesitated. Possibly Ripley was speaking truly. He knew that Tim

was shrewd and it might be that he had used different boys to do his

bidding at various times. The expression which Ripley had unconsciously

let slip, that it was his first turn, might understood in that light.

However, his disposition had been clearly manifest, even by his own

confession, and Ward's feeling of anger instantly returned.

"Ripley, you've got that key to my room I believe in your pocket now.

Hand it over to me and I'll let you off this time."

"Not if I know myself," replied Ripley, his courage having evidently in

a measure returned as he perceived Ward's momentary hesitation.

"You won't give it to me?"

"No, I won't give it to you," replied Ripley still more boldly.

"Then I'll take it."

And as he spoke Ward quickly sprang forward and grasped the boy by the

shoulder.

Instantly all of Ripley's fears returned. Before Ward fairly realized

what was occurring he had emitted three or four shrieks for help.

"Help! help! Come! come! Help me! Help! Help!"

If Ward had not been so angry and startled by the unexpected sounds he

would have laughed. He had not harmed the boy, for he had only grasped

him roughly by the shoulder. But evidently Ripley was thoroughly

alarmed by Ward's manner and believed that his last hour had come.

In a moment there was a rush of boys up the stairway and they were

pounding upon the door eagerly striving to open it or break it in.

Taking advantage of Ward's momentary confusion, Ripley slipped from his

grasp and hastily drew back the bolt of the door and flung it wide open.

A dozen or more boys rushed into the room, Tim Pickard at their head,

and stopped a moment in surprise as they gazed at the two boys.

Scarcely a word had been uttered, however, before Ward heard some one

speaking in the doorway. He instantly recognized the voice as that of

Mr. Crane, and his anger gave way to a feeling of embarrassment.

"What's the meaning of this?" said Mr. Crane quietly, though his manner

was somewhat stern. "I want you all to go immediately to your own

rooms."

The boys started to obey at once, Ward being the last to pass Mr. Crane,

who stood holding the door open for them to go through.

"I'm surprised, Hill," he said quietly as Ward passed him. "You will

come and explain this later to me, I am sure."

"I'm ready to explain it now," said Ward eagerly.

"Not now, Hill," said Mr. Crane, smiling for the first time as he marked

the eagerness of the lad. "Come over to-morrow evening."

"I'll come," said Ward quickly. "I don't want you to think too badly of

me, Mr. Crane."

"And I don't want to. I hardly think I shall have to," he added, as he

noted Ward's manner.

"May I go down to Speck's room now--I mean Jack's--I mean Jack

Hobart's?"

"Yes, if you think it will be safe?" said Mr. Crane quietly. "From the

sounds that came from this room I thought that murder at least was being

committed, and I don't want to hear a repetition of these ear-splitting

screeches."

Ward left the teacher and going down to Jack's room was speedily

admitted. Then he soon related the entire story before Jack and his

chum Berry.

The boys listened soberly and when at last the story was ended, Jack

said: "Well, Ward, it's a relief to me that you've dug the thing out.

You made one mistake, though."

"What's that?"

"You ought never to have tried to chastise Ripley when he was in East

Hall. Don't you know by this time that there's no fooling in any

building Mr. Crane has charge of?"

"I wasn't going to chastise Ripley. All I was going to do was to take

the key away from him. Of course that isn't any good, now that there's

a new lock on my door; but it would be positive proof that Ripley had a

hand in it, you see."

"And what good would that do you, I'd like to know? Suppose you did

have the proof; you wouldn't take it over to the doctor, would you?"

"No, I don't suppose I would," said Ward slowly. "I never told on a

fellow yet."

"And you're not going to begin now. It's hard lines for you, old

fellow, I know that as well as you do; but it's just one of the things a

chap's got to straighten out for himself. He can't report it, you know;

that would only make a bad matter worse."

"I suppose you're right," said Ward soberly. He was thinking of his

evening interview with Mr. Crane. He had intended to relate the

circumstances just as they were, and felt positive that the teacher

would sympathize with him rather than blame him.

Jack's words, however, he at once realized were true. In accordance

with the false code of honor of the school, he could not cure his evils

by seeking outside help. And the boys he knew were merciless in

carrying out their own ideas of justice and honor.

"No, Ward; you've got to look at it just as it is. Some of the fellows

are down on you, but I don't believe it'll last. I don't honestly. How

can it with such a fellow as I know Ward Hill to be? It's against all

reason."

"And meanwhile I'm to sit down meekly and thank these fellows who upset

my room every day, am I?"

"Not at all. Not at all. But Ripley isn't the one to blame. You've

got to go to the fountain head of all the trouble, as Dr. Gray so kindly

informs us every day in the chapel."

"Well, Tim Pickard's the one at the bottom of it all," said Ward.

"So he is, my young friend, and he's the one to fix. Now I'm sure, with

the help of Luscious here and your humble servant, you can do it, and do

it this very night too."

"I don't see how," said Ward gloomily.

"No you don't; but if you'll listen with both ears I'll explain the

little project I have in mind, and soon the weary valedic will put his

enemies to flight, or words to that effect."