Vacation had come and gone. How Will Phelps did enjoy that break in his work! He almost begrudged the swiftly passing hours while he was at home, and as the vacation drew near its close he found himself computing the hours and even the minutes that yet remained before he must return, just as he had previously reckoned the time that must pass before he could return to Sterling. It was not that he did not enjoy his college life, for as we know he had entered heartily into its spirit, but the work was hard and his handicap in the one subject had robbed him of the enthusiasm which perhaps otherwise he might have had.
When the day at last arrived when he was to return he was unusually quiet and seldom had a word to say to any one. Uppermost in his thoughts was the expression of the principal of the school where he had prepared for college, who had said to him: "Well, Will, with all the fun of college there is still another side to it, and that is, that when a fellow enters college he really is leaving home. From that time forward he may come back for his vacations, but it is nevertheless the break that sooner or later comes to every man." Will had thought much of the saying, and its truthfulness was so apparent that he was unable entirely to shake off the somewhat depressing effect it had produced upon himself.
When the hour came and the good-byes must be said he strove desperately to be calm, but he dared not trust himself to say much. He did not once glance behind him as he walked away from the house to the street, though he knew that his father and mother were standing on the piazza and were watching him as long as his sturdy form could be seen by them.
On the train he found several of his college friends and it became somewhat easier for him in their company to forget his own heaviness of heart, and as he sped on toward Winthrop the numbers increased and the noisy shouts of greeting and the enthusiasm of the students diverted him from the feeling to which otherwise he might have yielded.
Peter John and Foster were in the number of the returning students, the former having recovered sufficiently to warrant him in taking up a part of his work. Wagner also and several of the other students who had been victims of the fever were on the train when it arrived at Winthrop, and in the warmth of their reception by their student friends there was a tonic such as even the physicians' prescriptions had not afforded. Will found a slight return of his depression when he first entered his room, but when a few days had passed his life had once more settled into the grooves of the daily routine and assumed its former round of tasks.
The mid-year examinations came within a month after the reopening of the college, and the chagrin and anger of Will Phelps were keenly aroused when he learned that although he had done well in his other studies he was conditioned in his Greek. He stormed and raved about the injustice with which he was being treated, and finally, at Foster's suggestion, sought a personal interview with his professor.
"I don't understand it, professor," he said warmly. "I never felt more sure of anything in my life than I did that I had passed that exam—I mean that examination."
"Ah, yes," replied the professor. "Quite likely if you had had the decision to make, you would have passed cum laude! Ha, ha! Yes, I fawncy it might have been so, but unfortunately the decision had to be made by other parties."
"But didn't I pass the examination, professor?" demanded Will.
"I do not exactly recollect as to that. Quite likely you failed, since that impression seems to be vivid in your thoughts. Were you so reported?"
"Yes, sir. Have you got that paper, professor?"
"I have it. I should not say I have got it."
"May I see it?" Will's manner was subdued, but there was a flush on his cheeks which those who knew him well would at once have understood.
"I will look it over with you," assented the professor. "It is against our rules to return papers to students, and I fawncy our rules are made to be obeyed, not ignored."
"Yes, sir." Will was hardly aware of what he was saying so impatient and eager was he for the paper to be produced.
The professor unlocked a drawer in his desk and drew forth a package of papers that were carefully tied with a piece of ribbon. Even the knot was exact and the loop on one side did not vary from that on the other by the smallest fraction. In his impatience Will noticed even this detail, but it was ignored in a moment when the professor slowly and with care examined the headlines of the papers and at last drew forth one which he placed on the desk in front of him and said: "Ah, yes. Here is the paper in question. It is credited with being two points above the mark required to pass a student."
"It is?" demanded Will enthusiastically. "I thought there must be a mistake."
There was a slight scowl on the professor's brow as he said: "Ah, yes. I will now refer to your true mark," and he drew forth a little book as he spoke and carefully examined the record. "Ah, yes," he murmured, not lifting his eyes from the page on which he had placed a forefinger. "Ah, yes. It is as I fawncied. Your average for the term in your recitations is what brings you below. It is true you are two above the required mark in your examination, but you are three below in your recitation work, and that, I regret exceedingly to say, brings you still one point below the mark necessary to pass you." The professor looked up and smiled blandly.
But Will Phelps was not smiling and his vigorous young heart was filled with wrath. By a desperate effort, however, he contrived to control his voice and said quietly: "Was I not doing better? Was I not improving in my work?"
"I should not care to speak positively, but my impression is that you were. Ah, yes," he added as he glanced again at his record. "You were improving. I may even say there was a marked improvement."
"I have told you that you were two points above the mark required for passing the examination," said the professor with dignity.
"Then I don't see what I'm stuck for."
"You are not 'stuck'."
"I'm not? Thank you, professor. I thought I was. You can't understand what a load—"
"Excuse me, Mr. Phelps. I did not affirm that you were not conditioned. I merely declared that you were not 'stuck'."
"Then I am conditioned, am I?" said Will, his heart instantly sinking.
"Most certainly."
"What shall I have to do?"
"Pass the examination."
"But I have passed it! I passed this one!" declared Will promptly.
Again the professor's scowl returned and his thin lips were tightly compressed as he said, "I fawncy it will not be necessary for me to repeat what I have already said. You were deficient in the term work and therefore are conditioned."
"Then you mean to tell me, do you," said Will, no longer able to repress his rising indignation, "that, though I steadily improved in my class work, and then passed the examination, in spite of it all you are going to give me a condition because according to your figures I am still one point below?"
"Most certainly."
"And I'll have to take another exam?"
"Precisely."
"Good evening, professor," said Will, rising abruptly.There was nothing more to be said, and he felt that it would be wise to withdraw from the professor's presence before, in his indignation, he should say something he was certain to regret. When, however, he returned to his own room, there the flood tides of his wrath broke loose. He related the interview to Foster, and bitterly declared that if a smaller specimen of a man could be found with a microscope he thought he would be willing to spend his days and nights searching for him. There was neither justice nor fairness in it. He had improved steadily, even Splinter acknowledged that he had, and had passed the required exam, and yet for the sake of the professor's pettiness and the red tape of the college rules he must take another, and then if he should pass that he would be all right. Bah! Greek was bad enough, but Splinter was worse. What kind of a man was he to put in charge of a lot of fellows with live blood in their veins, he'd like to know. For his part he wished he was out of it. Such things might do for kids, but it was too contemptible to think of for college students.
Foster wisely waited till the outburst had been ended and then said, "Well, Will, you're up against it, whatever you say. What are you going to do about it?"
"Do about it? I'm going to pass that exam. There isn't any other way out. I've got to do it! but that doesn't make it any nicer for me, does it?"
"Splinter's here and is likely to stay. And if you and I are going to stay too, I suppose we'll have to come to his tune."
"I fancy—you should hear Splinter say that.""Say what?"
"'Fancy,' only he calls it 'fawncy'. I 'fawncy' my father is dead right when he says that I'll find a splinter everywhere and just as long as I live; but I don't believe I'll ever find one as bad as this one is."
"He may be worse. Don't you remember that little bit of Eugene Field's verse where he tells how when he was a boy he was sliding down hill with some other little chaps in front of the deacon's house? And how their yelling annoyed the deacon till at last he came out and sprinkled ashes on the path? Well, Eugene said he always had found since that there was some one standing ready to throw ashes on his path, it didn't seem to make any difference where he was."
"I don't remember, but it's like my father's words about finding splinters everywhere. Oh, no, I'm mad about it, but I'm not running away. I'm going to do it if that's the thing to be done."
And when a month had gone by Will had passed the examination, and was facing his work without the drag of work undone to hinder him.
The final influence had come one Sunday in the college chapel where the pulpit from week to week was occupied ("filled" was a word also occasionally used) by men of eminence, who were invited for the purpose of speaking to the college boys. Some of these visitors by words, presence, and message were a great inspiration to the young men, and others were correspondingly deficient, for in the vocabulary of Winthrop there was no word by which to express the comparative degree.
Will Phelps had regularly attended the services, not only because such attendance was required by the college authorities but also from the habit and inclination of his own life. With his fellows he had enjoyed some speakers and had disliked others in his thoughtless manner, and in the preceding week had laughed as heartily as any one over the unconscious escapade of Mott. The preacher for the day had been unusually prosy, having length without much breadth or thickness as Foster had dryly described the discourse, and in the midst of the hour, Mott had fallen asleep in his pew. Short and stout in figure, doubtless doubly wearied by the late hours he had kept the preceding night, in the midst of his slumbers he had begun to snore. From low and peaceful intonations he had passed on to long, prolonged, and sonorous notes that could be heard throughout the college chapel. Nor would any one of his fellows disturb his slumbers, and when at last with an unusually loud and agonizing gasp Mott was awakened and suddenly sat erect and stared stupidly about him, the good-hearted, but boyishly irreverent audience, it is safe to affirm, was decidedly more interested in the slumbering sophomore than in the soporific speaker, though few doubtless thought them related as cause and effect.
On the following Sunday Will was thinking of Mott's experience and wondering if he would give another exhibition. This thought was even in his mind when the visiting speaker entered the chapel pulpit and reverently began the service of the day.
He had not been speaking long before it was evident that every eye was fastened upon him. It was evident that here was first of all a man, and then a man who was present because he had something to say and not merely because he had to say something.
"I am appealing to those of you," he was saying, "who are eager and earnest, not to you who are indifferent or weaklings. Those of you who are members of your college teams, who are leading spirits in the college life, who are not living lives that are above reproach because you have no temptation to be bad, but because if you do right it is because you have to struggle and fight for it—it is to you I am speaking this morning."
Will was listening intently, as was every one in the chapel, and then there followed a sentence that seemed to him almost electric with life and that made a lasting impression upon his life.
"What I want every one of you young men to do," the speaker was saying, "is to give your better self a chance. There isn't one of you to-day who is not proud of his physical strength, not one of you who, if he should be urged to join one of the athletic teams, would not willingly, even proudly go through all the training that would be required of him. And that is right. In your intellectual work some of you see what the desired end is—the development of power, getting your brains into form so that you can meet and compete with the forces you will have to face when you leave your college days behind you and go forth to make your name and place in the great battlefield of life. Some of you, it may be, do not as yet see this clearly, and when you can evade a task or dodge a difficult demand upon you, count it as so much gained. But in your heart of hearts you know better, and are dimly conscious that you are losing and not gaining by your neglect."
The earnestness, the sincerity, and naturalness of the speaker acted upon Will Phelps with the effect of an electric shock. Never had he been so thoroughly aroused, and every nerve in his body was tingling when he left the chapel and started toward his own room.
"That's the kind of a talk the fellows like."
Will glanced up and beheld Wagner, who had overtaken him and now was walking by his side."I never heard such a man in all my life," said Will warmly.
"There isn't a man that comes here who has such a grip on the students as he has. One of the best things you have to look forward to is the treat you will have every year of hearing him. There isn't a spark of 'cant' or 'gush' about him, but what he says goes straight home. I don't think I'll ever forget some of the things he has said to us while I've been in college."
Accepting Will's cordial invitation, Wagner went with him to his room and remained there for an hour, and for the most of the time their conversation was of the man and the message they had that morning heard.
"I'll never forget one thing he said," remarked Wagner thoughtfully.
"What was that?" inquired Will, deeply interested at once.
"He was talking once about the reason why women were supposed to be so much more religious than men, and he said he didn't believe they were."
"There are more in the churches, anyway," suggested Will.
"Yes, that's what he said; but he said too, that the reason for it was because one side of the life of Christ had been emphasized at the expense of the other. He said so much had been made of his gentleness and meekness and the kindly virtues, which were the feminine side of his nature and appealed most to women, that he was afraid sometimes the other the stronger side and the one that appealed most to men had been lost. And then, he went on to speak of the Lion of the tribe of Judah, and he pictured the temptation and the power of decision and the heroic endurance and strength, and all that. I never heard anything like it in all my life. It made me feel as I do when the team is in for a meet. I'll never forget it! Never!"
"I wish I'd heard it."
"You'll have three more chances, anyway."
"Maybe more than that if I don't pass in all my work," laughed Will.
"Having any trouble?"
"A little with my Greek, but I've passed off my condition now."
"I think you're all right then, though Splinter is a hard proposition. Just imagine him talking like this man this morning."
Will laughed, and then becoming serious, he said, "Wagner, I've a classmate who is bothering me."
"Who is it?"
"Schenck. Peter John everybody calls him."
"What's he doing? What's the trouble with him?"
"Well, to be honest, he's drinking hard."
"Wasn't he one of the fellows who was down, with the typhoid when I had it?"
"Yes."
"An awkward, ungainly, redheaded fellow?"
"That's the one."
"What have you been doing for him?"
"Everything I could think of, but nothing seems to hold. He made all sorts of promises when he was sick and he hasn't kept one of them. He goes around with Mott and you know what that means.""Yes," said Wagner thoughtfully.
"He's a queer chap. I was in school three years with him and in some ways he was absolutely idiotic. For a while he'd work all right and then without a word of warning he'd break out and do some of the most absolutely fool things you ever heard of."
"Not very much to appeal to, I fancy."
"There might be if a fellow knew how, but I confess I don't."
"You think it would do any good for me to see him?"
"Yes, I do," said Will eagerly. "You know he might stand a show for the track team—"
"Is he the fellow that won the half-mile in the sophomore-freshman meet?" inquired Wagner eagerly. "Is he the one?"
"Yes."
"I'll see him. I'll go right over there now. You're not letting up any in your own work for the team are you, Phelps?"
"I'm doing a little all the time," Will admitted, "but I don't suppose it will amount to much."
"Yes, it will. You never can tell till you try. If Mott does not do better he'll find himself out of it. We'll need you and every one we can get. You know I can't go in this year."
"Why not?"
"The typhoid. Doctor won't let me."
"Then Peter John can't go in either."
"That's so. I hadn't thought of that. All the more reason then why you ought to do your best, Phelps. I'll see this John Henry anyway—"
"You mean Peter John.""All right. Have it your own way. I'll go over to his room and look him up anyway. Good-bye, Phelps."
"Good-bye," responded Will, as the senior started down the stairway.
Several days elapsed before Will heard anything of Wagner's interview with Peter John and then all that Wagner told him was that the freshman had promised faithfully to do better. But Will had already had so much experience with Peter John's promises that he was somewhat skeptical as to results. His classmate he knew was not essentially vicious, only weak. He was so weak and vain that he was eager to gain the favor of whatever person he chanced to be with, and his promise of better things to Wagner was as readily given as was his response to Mott when the latter happened to be his companion of the hour.
Troubled as Will was, he nevertheless did for Peter John all that was within his power, which was not much, and was heavy-hearted as the reports steadily came of his classmate's downfall. Even Hawley, good-natured as he was, had at last rebelled and declared that he would no longer room with a fellow who had no more sense than Schenck, and Peter John, left to himself, was quick to respond to Mott's invitation to share his room, and was soon domiciled in the sophomore's more luxurious quarters.
Will Phelps found meanwhile that his own work in the classroom was of a character that promised a fair grade, though by no means a high one. Even his professor of Greek now appeared in a slightly more favorable light, and Will was convinced that the change was in Splinter, not in himself, so natural and strong were his boyish prejudices.
As the springtime drew near, however, his thoughts and time were somewhat divided in the excitement of the last great struggle between the members of his own class and their rivals, the sophomores. For years it had been the custom of the college for the two lower classes to bury, or rather to burn the hatchet on St. Patrick's Day. For a week preceding that time the tussles between the rival classes were keener than at any other time during the year.
At that eventful date the freshmen for the first time were permitted to carry canes, and on the day itself there was to be a parade of the freshman class, every member clad in some outlandish garment which he wore outside his other clothing, and it was the one ambition of the sophomore class to silence the music of the band that was at the head of the procession and at the same time tear the outer garments from the noisy freshmen. For a week preceding the time of the parade the freshmen were striving by every means in their power to smuggle their canes into Winthrop so that they would all be supplied when the day of emancipation arrived, and the test of the sophomores' keenness was in being able to thwart the plans of their adversaries and prevent the entrance of the canes into the town.
Every road leading to the village was strictly guarded by the vigilant sophomores and spies were busy in the adjacent towns who were continually on the lookout for the purchase or purchasers of the canes. The excitement had become keener with the passing of the days until now only two days remained before the great parade when the huge wooden hatchet would be borne at the head of the procession and duly consigned to the flames on the lower campus in the presence of the entire student body.
Will and Foster had shared in the growing interest and both knew just where the coveted canes had been purchased by the duly authorized committee and hidden till the time should arrive when they were to be brought stealthily into the village. Their excitement became keener still when on the evening of the day to which reference has been made Peter John Schenck burst into Will's room with a report that instantly aroused his two friends.
"The sophs have found out where the canes are," Peter John almost shouted.
"They have? How do you know?" demanded Will.
"I was in my bedroom and I heard them talking with Mott in our study room."
"Who?"
"Tucker, Spencer, and Goodman."
"What did they say?"
"They said the canes were over in Coventry Center, at the minister's house there."
Coventry Center was a little hamlet about seven miles distant from Winthrop, and the excited freshmen had indeed stored a part of their canes in the house of the worthy old minister of the village. They had frankly explained to him what their purpose was and he had laughingly consented to receive the coveted possessions in his home and store them there for the four days that intervened between the time and St. Patrick's day. And the freshmen had been confident that their hiding-place would not readily be discovered. No one would suspect that the parsonage would be selected or the worthy minister would act as a guard. To make assurance doubly certain, however, only half of the canes had been entrusted to the minister, and even those were divided—a bundle containing a dozen being placed in the woodshed and the remaining being stored beneath the hay in the little loft of the barn. The other half of the class canes had been taken to a farmhouse a mile distant from the parsonage and there concealed in an unused well, the mouth of which was filled with rubbish and the débris of a shed that had been blown down by a severe windstorm that had occurred a few weeks before this time.
As the utmost care had been observed by the committee having in charge the purchase of the canes, and they had stealthily in a stormy night taken their precious burdens to the two places of concealment they had been confident, over-confident now it appeared, that their actions had not been discovered.
Will and Foster had both served on the committee that had purchased and hidden the canes, and when Peter John brought his unwelcome tidings that the rival class was aware of the place where the canes had been stored, it was difficult for them to determine whether anger or chagrin was uppermost in their feelings. At all events they both were greatly excited, and Will said as he hastily rose from his chair:
"How did they find it out?"
"I don't know. I didn't hear them say," replied Peter John.
"Did they find out that you were there?"
"No, they left before I came out of my room. The door was partly open and I didn't dare stir hand or foot."
"Lucky for you, Peter John."
"Yes. I know it.""What are they going to do?" inquired Foster, who up to this time had been silent.
"They've gone over to get the canes."
"Gone!" exclaimed Will aghast.
"Yes. That's what Goodman said."
"How many went, do you know, Peter John?" demanded Foster.
"He said three."
"Do you know who they were?"
"No."
"When did they start?"
"Goodman said they went about an hour ago."
"Which road?"
"I don't know."
"Why didn't Mott go?"
"I don't think he knew anything about it before these fellows came and told him."
"What did he do after they told him?"
"He slapped his legs and laughed."
"You say he went away with those fellows that told him about it?"
"Yes."
"Did they say anything about any other canes—" began Will. But he was sharply interrupted by Foster and abruptly ceased.
"I didn't know there were any others," said Peter John. "Are there? Where are they?"
"We haven't any time to waste here," said Foster, hastily donning his sweater and putting a cap on his head. "Peter John, you go back to your room, and if you hear of anything more go straight to Bishop with the word."
"I'd rather go with you fellows.""Not this trip. You'll have to be on the lookout here. Somebody must do it and you're the one, Peter John. Come on, Will," he added, calling to his room-mate and instantly departed from the room.
Ignoring Peter John, Will hastily followed Foster, and together the two freshmen ran to Hawley's room. There a hurried consultation was held, the result of which was that it was decided that Foster and Dana should secure a car and drive swiftly to Coventry Center by one road, two other classmates were to drive to the same destination by another road, while Will and Hawley were to go on foot across the country and strive to arrive at the minister's house by the time the others had done so. In this way it was believed that every avenue of approach or retreat would be covered, and that even if the sophomores had been first on the scene they would still be unable to get away with their booty before they would be discovered, and at least followed.
In a brief time Will and Hawley were on their way across the country, leaving their more fortunate comrades, who were to ride, to follow as soon as their conveyances could be secured. The ground was still frozen, and in places there were patches of snow and ice, although the heavy snowfall of the winter for the most part was gone. Their way led through woods and over plowed fields, but the steady run or "trot" was maintained uphill and down, and within an hour and a half from the time they had departed from Winthrop they arrived at the confines of the little hamlet of Coventry Center.
"See or hear anything, Will?" inquired Hawley, as the two freshmen stopped and listened intently as they peered all about them.
"Not a thing," whispered Will in response.
The lights in the little homes were already out, for the people of Coventry Center were not believers in keeping untimely hours, and the twinkling lights of the little village for the most part disappeared before ten o'clock arrived. It was about that hour when Will Phelps and Hawley stopped at the end of the one straggling street to try to discover if there were any signs of the presence of their enemies or classmates.
"Shall we wait or put straight for the minister's house?" inquired Hawley.
"Go there," replied Will.
"Look out! Don't let any one see you," said Hawley in a low voice as they stealthily began to make their way up the street. Occasionally they stopped to make sure that they were not being followed or to strive to discover if their own friends were near. They had passed the little white wooden church building and were approaching the parsonage when both stopped abruptly.
"What's that?" demanded Hawley in a whisper.
"You know as much about it as I do. Come on and we'll find out."
The sound of voices could be heard from the rear of the house and from the tones it was evident that the speakers were somewhat excited. Furthermore Will was positive that he recognized the voices of two and they were members of the sophomore class at Winthrop.
"How many are there?" whispered Hawley."Sounds as if there were six or eight. Hark! There's the minister talking."
"What's he saying?"
"I can't make out. He's excited over something, though."
"Come on," whispered Hawley, "let's creep up around the corner of the barn. We can see and hear too there, and if we're careful they won't suspect us."
"It will be all day with us if they do," whispered Will in response.
Slowly and cautiously the two freshmen crept along the side of the street and diagonally across the vacant field till they had gained the desired corner of the barn. Then crouching low they peered forth at the sight which could be seen in the dim light.
On the highest step of the rear piazza of his house stood Mr. Whitaker, the minister of Coventry Center. He was a man at least sixty-five years of age, genial and shrewd, the friend of every one in the region. On the ground before him now five men could be seen and neither Will nor Hawley had any difficulty in recognizing all five as sophomores. Will pinched Hawley's arm in his excitement, but did not speak, though it almost seemed to him that the thumpings of his heart must betray his presence to the men who were before him.
Mr. Whitaker was speaking and instantly Will's attention was centered upon what was being said. "No, young gentlemen, I am not willing that you should enter my house."
"But, Mr. Whitaker," said one in reply whom Will took to be a sophomore who roomed near him in Perry Hall, "we don't want to come into the house—just into the woodshed, that's all."
"I cannot consent even to that."
"We'll not harm anything."
"You certainly will not if you do not enter."
"We've got to come in, Mr. Whitaker!" said the speaker a little more boldly.
"And I forbid it."
An interval in the conversation then followed during which Will could see that the sophomores were conferring. They had withdrawn to a place about midway between the house and the barn and consequently were nearer the hiding-place of the two freshmen than before, but both were compelled to draw back for fear of being discovered and consequently were unable to hear what was said.
In a brief time the sophomores returned to the piazza where the minister was still standing. "Mr. Whitaker," began the leader.
"Yes, sir. At your service," responded the minister pleasantly.
"Why do you object to our coming in? You know we won't do any harm to the place. You know what we've come for."
"Perhaps that's the very reason why I object."
"You don't have to stay here. We'll give you our word we won't harm anything. All we want is to get those freshmen canes. You're not responsible for them and you certainly don't mean to say that you would stand up for that class. Why it's the worst that ever entered Winthrop."
"I have frequently heard of the class," said the minister laughing genially as he spoke. "I have a grandson who chances to be a member of it."
"I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to say that every fellow in it was a poor stick. All I meant was that as a class it's the most conceited one that was ever seen. That's what every one says."
"Doubtless," remarked Mr. Whitaker dryly.
"You don't care anything about the squabbles of the classes. It's nothing to you anyway, Mr. Whitaker," pleaded the sophomore.
"What led you to suspect that the canes might be here?"
"It wouldn't be fair to tell that," laughed the sophomore. "We know they're here all right, and that's enough."
"Would you believe me if I were to say to you that they are not here?"
"Yes, sir, I suppose we should," replied the sophomore dubiously, "but you won't say it."
"Why not, since they are not here?"
"What?" demanded the entire party almost together.
"That is what I said. The canes are not in my house."
"In the barn, then?" said the leader suspiciously.
"No, they are not in the barn, either. There is not a cane on my place except the one I occasionally use myself. If you think that will do—"
"But, Mr. Whitaker, the man was seen when he brought the canes here."
"Quite likely."
"And yet you say they are not here?"
"That is what I said. And what I still say.""I don't understand—"
"I do not say they were not here. All I say is that they are not here."
"They're gone? They've been taken away? Is that what you mean?" demanded the astonished sophomore.
"Precisely."
"Let's go in and search anyway," said one of the party now thoroughly angry.
"I advise you not to attempt that," said the minister quietly.
"Why not?" said the sophomore impudently.
"Because one of my neighbors is a deputy sheriff and housebreaking is a somewhat serious offense."
For a moment the assembly was nonplussed, but their uncertainty was speedily relieved, or at least interrupted, by an occurrence that instantly caused them all to turn and flee from the place at their utmost speed.
At the very moment when the consternation of the sophomores was keenest the sound of a sleigh turning into the yard in which they were standing caused them all to look quickly toward the gateway. The ground was bare in places, and the runners of the sleigh, as the iron bands passed over the gravel, emitted shrieks and groans as if they were striving to warn the sophomores of the impending peril.
Seated in the sleigh were three men whom the assembly speedily recognized as members of the freshman class, and their own fears for a moment doubtless caused the sophomores to magnify the numbers as well as the danger.
"Look out, fellows! Here they come!" said one in a low voice whom Will and Hawley recognized. It was Mott, who was again the spokesman and leader of the little band.
"Let's get out of this," responded one whose voice Will could not determine, and as if a sudden panic had seized upon them the young men turned and began to run swiftly.
"Hold on! Hold on, fellows!" called Mott savagely, although his voice was not loud. "Hold on! What are you running for? There are only three of them, and we're good for any three freshmen in Winthrop. Don't run. Come on back!"
Mott's appeal served to restore a measure of confidence among his companions, and instantly the flight was abandoned and all turned slowly back toward the yard. Neither Will nor Hawley had yet moved from his hiding-place, though they were leaning farther out from the corner of the barn in their eagerness to discover what was occurring in the yard before them. They could see that the driver in the sleigh was Foster, and he had leaped out and was now as calmly tying his horse and fastening the blanket upon it as if never a thought of his rival class had entered his mind. Beside him two young men were standing, but in the dim light it was impossible to determine just who they were. The returning sophomores were now near the new arrivals, and the genial old minister could also be seen, still standing on the piazza and evidently not uninterested in the sight and presence of the young men before him.
"What are you doing here, Bennett?" demanded Mott of Foster.
"Oh, we're out for a sleigh ride," responded Foster glibly, "and we just stopped here to see the fun. What are you doing here?"
"Oh, we stopped to see the fun too," responded Mott gruffly. "It's worth going miles to see freshmen who don't know any more than to go sleigh-riding on bare ground. Had a good time, freshman?"
"Yes. Have you?"
"We're all right. If you've come for the canes you're too late."
"Have you just found that out?" replied Foster with a loud laugh. It was true that he was not aware that the canes had been taken away, but he was not minded to betray his surprise to the members of the rival class.
There was a brief interval of silence which was broken by the old minister, who said, "I shall be very glad, young gentlemen, to have you come into the house. The night air is cold and you must be thoroughly chilled. A little while ago I may have appeared somewhat lacking in hospitality," he added, turning to Mott as he spoke; "but now I can assure you I shall be very glad indeed to receive you."
"Thank you," responded Foster. "We shall be glad to come in if the others will come too."
"We can't very well to-night," said Mott glumly. "We've got to go—"
Suddenly there broke in a wild yell upon the silence of the night. The sound was made by only two men, but these two were possessed of a lung power that was well-nigh phenomenal. Hawley who with his companion had been watching the events that were occurring before them had suddenly turned to Will and whispered, "Let's go in and take a hand! Yell, Phelps! Make them hear you clear over in Winthrop!"
"Hi-i-i-i!" the two lusty freshmen had shouted together as they leaped forward, and the prolonged yell was repeated when all the assembly had instantly turned and for a moment in sheer astonishment were gazing at the startling approach of men from behind the barn.
"Come on, fellows!" shouted Hawley again. "Come on! We'll get every one of them! Come on! Come on!"To the startled sophomores it seemed as if myriads of their foes were rushing upon them, and after a momentary confusion every one had started swiftly across the narrow field that intervened between the yard and the road that approached Coventry Center from another direction.
"Come on, Foster! Come on all you fellows!" shouted Hawley. "Come on! We'll get every soph that's here and will put 'em where they won't do any harm till long after St. Patrick's Day."
Obediently every freshman started to follow Hawley, and across the rough, plowed field they ran swiftly toward the road where the sophomores had already disappeared from sight behind the bushes that were thick and high by the roadside. When once they had gained the road they could see the forms of two men speeding away in the distance, and with a renewed shout the freshmen started in swift pursuit.
On up the long hill they sped until at last they stood together on the summit. Not a sight of their rivals was to be seen, and blankly the freshmen stood and stared about them till Hawley said:
"No use, fellows. They've got away and we might as well go back. Foster," he added, "did you know the canes were gone?"
"Gone? Gone where?" replied Foster blankly.
"I haven't the slightest idea. All I know is that Mr. Whitaker told Mott that the canes had been in his house but they had been taken away."
"Who took them?"
"I haven't the slightest idea.""You don't suppose the sophs got them, do you?" said Foster hastily.
"I hadn't thought of that. It never entered my mind that anybody but our own fellows had come for them."
"I don't believe it was anybody else that got them," said Will. "You ought to have heard Mr. Whitaker talk to Mott and the other sophs. They were just determined to go into his house, but the old man would not let them. No, you can rest easy about it, Mr. Whitaker never let the canes go out of his house without knowing who had come for them. No, sir. Not much."
Somewhat comforted by Will's positiveness, the boys began to retrace their way down the long road, and after a moment Hawley said, "We'll find out all about it anyway, for Mr. Whitaker will tell us. He's all on our side. That's what comes of having his grandson in our class. Say, fellows, you just ought to have heard Mott rake over our class. He had the nerve to stand there and tell Mr. Whitaker that we were the worst lot that had ever entered Winthrop."
"I wish we had caught him!" said Foster warmly. "We would have made him come up in his estimate of the freshmen."
"Oh, he was just talking to hear himself," said Will Phelps lightly. "He knows who we are all right enough, and he isn't going to forget us right away either. But I wish we had caught him."
"Here we are, fellows," said Hawley, as the five young men clambered over the fence and once more were in Mr. Whitaker's yard. "Let's go in and ask him about it now.""All right," responded Foster as they started toward the door. "Hold on a minute. Let me take a look at my horse first. I'll be with you in a minute. Gre-a-at—" he suddenly began. "The horse is gone!"
"What!" exclaimed Will in astonishment.
No heed was given his expression, however, as all five ran quickly to the post to which the horse had been tied. But the horse and sleigh were gone, and not a trace remained to show in which direction they had departed.
"Sure you fastened him all right?" inquired Hawley anxiously.
"I know I did," replied Foster.
"If you did then he couldn't have got loose. I wonder if Mott and the sophs could have done it? Come on! We'll go in and tell Mr. Whitaker and he may be able to give us a point or two. There's a light in the kitchen, and we'll probably find him there. Come on, fellows!"
Hastily the boys ran to the kitchen door, and in response to their knock Mr. Whitaker himself opened the door and stood before them.
"Mr. Whitaker," began Foster, "do you know who took our horse and sleigh?"
"Why! Why, I supposed that you did. Two young men came into the yard not more than three minutes ago and took them away."
"They did? Then it was the sophs," said Foster turning to his comrades. "We'll never hear the last of it. We can't get a horse here, can we, Mr. Whitaker?" he inquired eagerly."I fear not. I have none of my own, and there are not many to be had here anyway."
"Did they start toward Winthrop?"
"I think so. They turned toward the lower road."
"Let's get after them," suggested Foster.
"A long way after them," said Will grimly. "We never could catch up with them."
"Mr. Whitaker," said Hawley, "how long ago were the canes taken away from here?"
The good man hesitated, and the freshman without waiting for him to speak began again. "We belong to the same class as your grandson. We're freshmen and we don't want the sophs to get those canes."
"I regret exceedingly that I had anything to do with it, but my grandson over-persuaded me and so I consented. I should say that it was about an hour ago when they came for the canes."
"Who came?"
"There were two young gentlemen, and they brought me a note which informed me that I was to let them take the canes away."
"A note?" demanded Hawley. "What did it say? Who signed it?"
"It was signed by Hawley—Albert Hawley, if I recollect aright, and also by my grandson."
"My name is Hawley and somebody forged it. The sophs have the canes and I'm afraid it's too late—"
"Too late nothing, Hawley!" said Will impulsively. "What kind of a rig, I mean wagon or sleigh or whatever it was, did they have?" he inquired of the minister."It was a box wagon, a farm wagon, and they had a farmer to drive for them."
"Did you know the man?" demanded Will.
"No. I cannot say that I did. He was a stranger to me. But the note—"
"Probably some soph disguised as a farmer. Did he have any other load in the wagon box?"
"Yes. I noticed some bags of meal."
"Good. And you say they took the lower road?"
"Yes. I recollect that distinctly."
"Isn't there a short cut? Can't we cut across lots and head them off? They would have to go slow, and it might be that we could head them somewhere and get those canes away from them."
"Yes," replied Mr. Whitaker. "I don't know that I am doing right to tell you, but inasmuch as the canes were secured by a forgery I shall certainly tell you all I know of the matter. If you go down to that little valley," and as he spoke he pointed in a direction in the rear of the barn, "you will find a pathway that leads beside the brook almost in a straight line to what we call the ford. It saves between three and four miles to Winthrop, and whenever I walk I take the path. I—"
"Thank you! Thank you, Mr. Whitaker! Come on! We'll try it anyway, fellows. We've nothing to lose and everything to gain. Good night, Mr. Whitaker! Thank you for what you've told us," called Will Phelps, as he quickly turned and began to run.
Obediently the boys all followed Will as he ran swiftly across the field, and in a brief time they discovered the pathway to which the old minister had referred. There was no conversation now, for the fear in every heart was that they would arrive at the ford too late to avail. Besides, there was the likelihood that the canes would be disposed of before the wagon had gone very far from Mr. Whitaker's house. A multitude of fears possessed them, but they ran swiftly along the path where Will Phelps, eager and strong was leading the way. Not once did they stop for rest. The night air was chilling, and the clouds that swept across the face of the sky did not hide the light of the moon.
On and on they sped, steadily maintaining the dogged pace which the leader was setting for them, until at last, well-nigh winded and thoroughly tired by their exertions, they arrived at the place where the pathway joined the road and they knew that Winthrop was not more than three-quarters of a mile away. There they halted, but they had not recovered from the effects of their long run when they perceived a farm wagon, apparently filled with bags, coming down the hill that was near them.
As the eager freshmen peered out at the approaching wagon the suppressed excitement threatened to break all bounds. "Let's stop him and get the canes," suggested Hawley in a whisper.
"No. What'll be the good of that? It'll be better to follow up the wagon quietly, and then if we can find out where they put the canes, maybe a little later we can get them away without the sophs knowing anything about it. Don't you see we'll be making it all the worse for them."
"We don't know that the canes are in the wagon," suggested Foster.
"Of course we don't, and it's all the same whether we try to find out now or follow it up and find out a little later."
"Phelps is right about it," said Hawley. "If the canes shouldn't be found in the wagon, we would be making fools of ourselves if we stopped it, but if we let it go on and follow it up we'll be all the better."
Meanwhile the wagon itself had passed the place where the boys were concealed, and groaning and creaking had begun the ascent of the opposite hill. Only the driver was to be seen, and his appearance and actions were unmistakable. He was a farmer and well advanced in years, and if he was aware of the contest that was being waged between the rival classes in Winthrop it was evident that he had no share in the excitement.
"How'll we do it, fellows?" inquired Hawley anxiously. "He'll get away before we get our eyes open, if we don't look out."
"Let's follow him," said Will Phelps quickly. "We mustn't go in a bunch, but string out. But we mustn't be so far apart that we can't hear if one of us calls or whistles."
"Come on, then," said Foster. "You go ahead, Will, and we'll come along. You're a runner, and if the old fellow begins to start up his horses you can follow him better than any of us can. But we'll have to do our best."
Quickly the suggestion was adopted, and Will ran swiftly along the road until he discovered the wagon not far in advance of him. It was moving at the same monotonous pace as when it had passed the hiding place of the boys. Will Phelps, when he came within a hundred yards of the wagon he was following, decreased his own speed and endeavored to keep close to the fences by the roadside, so that he would not be seen by the driver if he should chance to look behind him.
They were soon within sight of Winthrop, and the shadowy towers of the college buildings could be discerned in the distance. It was long past midnight, and the only lights that could be seen were those of the twinkling stars and the occasional flash of the moonlight when the broken clouds that were moving across the face of the sky parted sufficiently for the face of the moon to be seen.
Suddenly Will was aware that the wagon had stopped at a corner where a road or street that led to the lower part of the village joined the road that led past the college buildings. He darted behind a huge tree that grew close to the roadside, and eagerly peered forth to discover what the next move of the farmer would be. He could see that some one approached the wagon, and after a brief delay climbed up on the seat beside the driver and then the team started on once more. Will was keenly excited by this time, and his suspicions were confirmed that the canes were indeed in the wagon before him. He was eager to follow swiftly, but he quickly decided that it would be wiser to wait until Hawley came up to the place where he himself was waiting and explain to him the change in the direction of the party they were following.
The huge form of Hawley soon appeared, and impatiently Will ran out into the road to meet him. "They've turned in here," he said excitedly, "and you must stop here and tell the fellows. I'll run on ahead and find out where the wagon goes."
Quickly Will darted across the fields and soon came into the lower road. The wagon could be seen not far in advance of him, and was still moving at a slow pace from which it had not varied since it first had been seen. It was evident that the sophs were either indifferent or absolutely confident, Will could not determine which. For a moment his heart misgave him. What a plight he would be in if it should appear that he and his classmates had been following a purposely designed trick of their rivals. The thought was by no means reassuring, but there was no time afforded for reflection, for the wagon he was following even then turned into a lane that led to a farmhouse and barns that were not far from the road. The climax had almost been reached and it would be soon known what the issue was to be.
Will waited now for his classmates to join him. The wagon could not escape, for the lane came to an abrupt end in the yard, and if it should turn back it could not pass the place where he was waiting without being seen.
It was not long before Hawley joined him, and, as he approached, Will said: "They've gone down this lane. Somebody was waiting here and has gone with the driver. There may be a good many others down there by the barn for all that we know. What do you think we'd better do?"
"There's a haystack out there by the barn," said Hawley, pointing to a stack of some kind that could be seen in the rear of the nearest barn. "If you could only get behind that you could see what was going on."
"I can, all right enough. But where will you fellows be? I may need your help if I get into trouble."
"I don't know. We won't be far away. Whistle if you want us and we'll make a break for you. Don't let them see you," he added warningly, as without waiting to reply, Will started at once, running swiftly along the ground near the crooked rail fence that extended the entire distance between the main road and the farm buildings.
He was convinced that he had not been seen when at last he gained the shelter of the haystack, and, crouching within its shadows, he peered forth at the wagon and the group of four men that were standing near it. He was positive that one was Mott, but his greatest surprise came when he perceived a horse and sleigh in the barnyard which he instantly recognized as the very ones with which Foster and his two classmates had gone to Coventry Center. He reached forward and strove to hear what was being said, for the little group were conversing eagerly but in tones so low that Will was unable to hear a word. He could see what was done, however, for after a brief delay the four men turned to the wagon, several sacks were lifted from their places in the load, and then two other sacks were taken from the wagon and carried by Mott and another man into the barn. Several minutes elapsed before Mott came forth again, and when he did he was alone. The sophomore stopped for a moment with the men, handed some money to the farmer, and then he and the fourth man, whom Will fancied he recognized as another sophomore, climbed into the sleigh and at once started back up the lane, the runners of the sleigh screeching as they passed over the bare places as if they were doing their utmost to alarm the neighborhood and to protest against what was being done. The farmer too, soon followed and passed up the lane, but his departure was of slight interest to Will, who was puzzling himself about the man who had entered the barn with Mott and had failed to reappear. To Will's mind there was but one explanation, and he was eager to confer with his own classmates, but he dared not leave his hiding-place for fear that the man in the barn might come forth and depart without being seen.
For a half-hour he waited but the stillness of the night was unbroken. He was becoming chilled and he dared not remain longer where he was. At last he decided to return to the place where he had left his own classmates and report to them what he had seen.
Hastily withdrawing from his shelter he ran swiftly across the fields until he came to the corner, and then whistling softly was rejoiced when he perceived his friends rise from the ground in an angle of the crooked fence and advance to meet him.
"Is that you, Will?" said Foster in a low voice. "We didn't know what had become of you. What's up? What's wrong?"
Will hastily described what he had seen and then said, "I'm dead sure, fellows, that that soph has been left in the barn to watch those canes."
"Why didn't you run away with the horse and sleigh?" inquired Hawley.
"I did think of trying it. But I made up my mind that even if I should succeed in doing it, it would give the whole thing away. They'd know that we'd found out where they had hidden our canes and there wouldn't be much use in our trying to get them again. Now we know where they are and the sophs don't even know that we know."
"You mean you think they don't know that we know," suggested Foster."I know it!" asserted Will positively. "Now what shall we do?"
"Put straight back to the barn, tie up the soph and take the canes away with us," said Hawley promptly.
"I've thought of that," replied Will. "But do you think that's the best plan? If we take the canes away we may lose them, for St. Patrick's Day isn't till day after to-morrow, you know. If this soph, I don't know who he is, has been left as guard he'll be relieved, and if they find he's gone and the canes too, why it'll be all the harder for us."
"What do you suggest, Phelps?" inquired Hawley.
"How will this do? Some one of us can creep back there into the barn and keep watch the same as the soph is doing. He can be relieved in the morning and then some one else can take his place. If anything happens in the barn he'll be pretty likely to know it, and if anything doesn't happen then we can get up a good-sized crowd and go down there to-morrow night and get the canes. We can distribute them among our fellows and then the next morning every fellow in the class can march into chapel with his cane."
"Good! Good! That's the idea!" said Hawley warmly. "Who'll go down in the barn and be guard for the night?"
"Who's got the most cuts to spare?" inquired Will.
"I have," said Foster promptly. "I have taken but four.""Then I should say you were the one to stand guard to-morrow," said Will. "I'll go to-night myself," he added. "Come down just before it's light in the morning, and come to the door in the rear of the barn. Rap three times softly, and then if that doesn't work, whistle, but not too loud."
There was some demurring on the part of his classmates, each of whom demanded for himself the privilege of taking the first watch, but Will insisted, and then somewhat reluctantly he was left to make his way back to the barn and all the others soon returned to the dormitories.
When Will Phelps arrived at the rear door of the barn he discovered that it was locked on the inside and he was unable to gain an entrance there. He was fearful that to enter by the front door would be but to proclaim his presence, but at last he perceived that there was an entrance by a small door that was partly open above the roof of the little lean-to on the side of the barn. Carefully he climbed up on the roof and cautiously made his way to the door. He peered within but it was dark and at first he was unable to discern anything. He waited until his eyes became somewhat accustomed to the dim light and then saw that there was a bare floor before him and that adjoining it was the haymow.
With his utmost care he stepped inside, and his fears increased when he discovered that the loose flooring creaked and groaned beneath his feet. With every step he halted and listened intently. It seemed to the excited freshman that he never had heard such sounds as those boards emitted that night. So slowly and cautiously did he proceed that it seemed to him that hours must have elapsed before he succeeded in gaining the border of the low mow. Even then he halted and listened intently, but not a sound broke in upon the oppressive stillness that pervaded the barn.
He next carefully and cautiously stepped over into the mow. A faint glimmer of light came from one corner and there he concluded the ladder must be which led to the floor below. If he could gain a place near that, he assured himself he would be able to know if anything occurred below, and at the same time he himself would be secure from observation.
Once more he slowly and with the utmost care began to creep forward, and at last he stretched himself at full length upon the hay and peered down through the opening. It was too dark to permit him to see much and not a sound could be heard.
Satisfied that he had been successful he resigned himself to his watch. The long hours dragged on until at last Will found it almost impossible to keep himself awake. Desperately he strove to keep his eyes open, but his feeling of drowsiness increased until at last it overpowered him and the weary freshman was fast asleep.
He was rudely awakened by sounds that came from the room below. He sat quickly erect, and though the light was clearer now he at first could not collect his thoughts sufficiently to show him where he was. Quickly, however, as the sounds from below became louder, it all came back to him, and he ran to the ladder and peered through the opening. What he saw evidently startled him, for instantly he threw himself upon the ladder and almost leaped to the floor below.
The door in the rear of the barn was open and on the floor before it stood Foster and Mott facing each other. Whether or not the sophomore who had been left as a guard was still in the barn Will could not determine, but, without waiting to find out, he almost leaped to the floor below, and before Mott could recover from his surprise he was helpless in the hands of his enemies. It was but the work of a moment securely to bind his hands and feet, and the leading spirit of the sophomore class was soon a helpless captive.
Excited though the boys were, the entire adventure was completed in a very brief time, and Will and Foster were both laughing when they gazed at their helpless prisoner. Even Mott smiled as he said ruefully:
"You've scored, freshmen. What are you going to do with me?"
"Nothing," said Will quickly.
Mott drew down the corners of his mouth and then a sudden light appeared in his eyes that caused Will to look keenly at him for a moment. "Come on, Foster," he said simply; "let's put this fellow where he won't do any more harm, at least until after St. Patrick's Day."
"Where'll we put him?" inquired Foster.
Will turned and looked about him and perceived a small harness room on the ground floor near him, and upon his suggestion the helpless sophomore was placed within it for safe keeping.
"Now then, Foster," said Will when he had closed the door of the room, "we've just got to find the place where these canes are hidden. Mott has come here to take the place of the guard that was here last night and nobody knows how long it'll be before some one else comes. Come on, let's get about it."
At once the two freshmen began their search. Beginning near the entrance, they examined every bin and peered into every possible place of concealment. Even in the mangers before which the horses were tied they peered and searched, but when they had carefully examined the entire floor they had not been able to discover the place where the coveted canes had been concealed.
"What are we to do, Will?" demanded Foster at last.
"Let's ask Mott."
"He'll never let on."
"Try it, anyway."
The two boys returned to the harness room and Will at once addressed their prisoner.
"Mott," he said, "where are those canes?"
The sophomore laughed loudly as he replied, "You certainly are the two most innocent freshmen I have ever struck yet. Perhaps you'd like to have me help you carry them back to the college."
"We'll let you go if you'll tell us where they are."
"Thanks muchly," replied Mott dryly."Come on, Will," said Foster. "We can find them ourselves. No use in wasting time here with this fellow. We'll get them ourselves."
"You're certain they're here?" laughed Mott.
Neither responded to his question, but both left the room and resumed their search.
"You don't suppose they have really got those canes somewhere else, do you, Foster? They might be just trying to put us on the wrong track here, you know?" inquired Will.
"It's possible, but I don't believe it," said Foster positively. "If that was their game Mott wouldn't be here."
"Probably not," assented Will. "Let's begin again. We've no time to waste."
The freshmen now began to search in the loft of the barn. They seized the pitchforks that were in the mow, and, thrusting the tines into the hay, they continued their search, working with desperate determination and throwing the hay about them until the entire mow presented the appearance of having been almost completely overturned.
But not a trace of the missing canes could they discover. At last, satisfied that their efforts were vain, they ceased and for a moment stared blankly at each other.
"No use," said Will despondently. "They've made game of us this time, Foster, just as sure as you live."
"We won't give up yet, Will. Of course if the canes are here they were not put where we'd be likely to stumble over them. We've just got to think it out—"
Foster stopped abruptly as a voice was heard calling up from below. "I must bid you an affectionate and tearful farewell, freshmen. Keep on with your good work and remember that perseverance conquers everything. Even the best of friends must part—"
Foster and Will waited to hear no more, but both plunged down the ladder, but when they had gained the floor below it was to behold Mott speeding up the lane as if he was "sprinting" for life itself. For a moment the surprise and consternation of the two freshmen were so complete that both were speechless.
"Why didn't you take after him, Will?" said Foster, who was the first to break in upon the awkward silence. "What are you standing here for?"
"No use, Foster," replied Will, shaking his head. "He's got too good a start. I don't see how he ever got loose."
"Well, he is loose and that's all there is about it. What'll we do next?"
"Find those canes. They're here, I know they are."
"Just tell me where they are, will you?"
"They won't come to us, that's certain! We've got to look them up. And if we don't find them pretty soon too it'll be the worse for us."
Will turned as he spoke and once more opened the lid of a piano box that was standing on the floor near them. The box apparently was filled with oats and they had inspected it before, but as it had not presented any appearance of containing the object of their search they had passed it by and gone on to the loft above.
This time, however, Will thrust his arm deep down into the oats and in a moment he almost shouted. "Here's something, Foster! Help me clear away these oats. There's something down in there!"
Foster seized the scoop that was near the improvised oat bin and with feverish haste threw the oats up on one side and then said exultantly, "Here's something! Here they are!"
Leaning over the box, he drew forth a bundle of canes carefully tied together and partly hidden from sight beneath the oats.
"Are they all there?" demanded Will in a hoarse whisper. He hastily inspected the bundle and then exclaimed, "Here's only a part of them, Foster!"