Of a Saturday, bright and early, Sam and his followers set out for the lake. Only Poke and Step were missing, both having pleaded their exceedingly pressing duties as constructors of a flying machine, and having agreed, readily enough, to endorse the others’ choice of a site for the camp. The Trojan was in the party, hardly as a volunteer and yet making no objection. The Shark marched along with his usual air of indifference, but Tom Orkney and Herman Boyd, who had some inkling of Sam’s real problem and his efforts to solve it, showed both interest and enthusiasm.

Lon had suggested a willingness to carry the club to the lake in the big car, but Sam had preferred a hike, it being his first care to keep his chums occupied. The day was fine, the sky clear, and the morning air fresh and invigorating. The single drawback was the dust in the road. There had been no rain for several weeks, and though the conditions did not yet approach those of a drought, farmers and gardeners were beginning to predict crop failures, unless a change came in the weather. To the boys, however, this danger did not make special appeal; and as the brightness of the spring foliage had not faded, they deemed it a very pleasant day, indeed, and marched along at a brisk pace.

On the way there was more or less discussion of the charms of the lake district, and the rival advantages of the two shores. Herman had a theory that it might be well to establish themselves near the pleasure resort—not too near, of course, but near enough to hear the band when it played. Orkney was strongly for the greater privacy of the other side of the lake. The Trojan and the Shark expressed no preference, and Sam withheld his ideas on the subject.

“We’ll scout all around,” he said. “Then we can pick the best spot. We’ve plenty of time to make the right choice.”

Now, scouting was a somewhat leisurely performance, and not a bad way of passing several hours. The country about the lake was rolling, with a great deal of woodland—largely “second growth” hardwood, as is frequently the case when a pine and spruce country has been lumbered, and birches, oaks and maples come in to take the places of the fallen giants of the forest. In this case the lumbering had taken place so long ago that the new trees had attained considerable size, though the “slash” left by the cutting (the litter of tops, limbs and broken trees not worth removal) was still much in evidence, offering dangerously inflammable material, should a fire ever get a fair start in the tract. Here and there, in the low spots between the ridges and little hills, the boys found swampy areas, where the undergrowth was thick and tangled enough to suggest a jungle. On the side where the pavilion and cottages were in course of erection something had been done in the way of clearing away the woods rubbish, but the club was agreed that the opposite shore had more natural advantages. Even Herman came over to this view at the consultation following luncheon; and there was unanimity of opinion that the best site for a camp would be in the neighborhood of the big Council Rock. Within fifty yards of the great stone was a glade where a tent could be pitched or a shack built; the spring not far away was clear and bubbling; and, finally, between the woods and the road was an open field where Poke and Step could manœuver with their flying machine.

Sam did not feel at liberty to explain to the others the remarkable enterprise in which the pair were engaged, feeling that divulging the great secret was the privilege of the young inventors; but in the talk he laid stress on the advantages of having open ground near by. To this suggestion there was ready agreement. A chance for scrub baseball games appealed to everybody, except perhaps the Shark; there might be even possibilities of tennis. In the case of the after-luncheon discussion the club was prepared to admit that a generally more promising place for a camp hardly could be desired.

Sam, with Poke and Step’s undertaking in mind, strolled away from the group to study the fields with more care; and he was gazing thoughtfully at the expanse of turf, when he heard a step behind him, and turned to see the Shark coming up. The spectacled youth said nothing, but halted beside Sam and surveyed the open ground deliberately.

“How big is it—how many acres?” Sam asked, after a little. With the club it had come to be a habit to turn all calculations over to the Shark, as belonging in his special province.

“Huh! What do you mean?” the Shark countered.

Sam waved a hand in a sweeping gesture. “Why, all that—out there. How much room is there?”

“Clear ground or space within the fences?”

“Clear ground.”

“Ten acres, plus.”

“Oh!” said Sam. “That’s quite a lot.”

“Huh!”

There was an odd note in the Shark’s tone. Sam glanced at him keenly; suspicion seized him that the other might have an inkling of what was in his mind.

“I—I’m wondering if there’s room for—well, for something,” he said suggestively.

The Shark grunted. “Umph! So’m I”; turned; stalked away. Sam chuckled. His suspicion was strengthened, but his liking for the Shark was not lessened. Plainly that youth could keep a secret with the best of them.

Sam strolled on, crossing the field and coming to the road. There he paused for a little. A wagon loaded high with boards for the new buildings went creaking by; a farmer jogged along on his way back from town; then a touring automobile, with much luggage in its tonneau, sped by, raising a great cloud of dust. Plainly, there was a good deal of traffic, of one sort or another, but Sam reflected comfortably that the camp would be far enough from the highway to escape its bustle.

He was about to turn back, when the sharp bark of a motorcycle caught his ear, and in a moment more the machine shot around a bend in the road. It was traveling at a great pace, which slackened quickly when the rider caught sight of the figure by the roadside. Sam could not repress a start of surprise. His eyes were good, and in spite of the semi-disguise of goggles and low-drawn cap he recognized Zorn, even as he perceived that the traveler intended to halt for parley.

Zorn stopped his machine abreast of Sam, hopped nimbly from his saddle, and dropped the support by which it could be held upright. He pushed back his cap and pulled off his goggles.

“Parker, this is lucky,” he said. “I’ve been wanting a chance to talk things over with you, when we’d be nice and private with nobody to rubber.”

Sam met the overture coldly. “I don’t know that I want to talk to you.”

Zorn grinned. “Well, you can’t very well help yourself—unless you run away.”

“Oh, I’ve things enough to say,” Sam responded sharply. “I’ve just been waiting for the right time.”

“Don’t worry—this is it! Never’ll be a better time or place for what you’re going to hear.... Look here! Had enough, have you?”

Sam stared at the other. “Enough? What are you driving at?”

“You oughtn’t to need maps. That election the other day proved that you and your gang are done for—unless I lend you a hand.”

“What kind of a hand?”

Zorn showed his teeth, though his speech was pacific. “A helping hand. You’re in bad—the lot of you.”

“Oh! Are we?”

“You are. The whole school believes you’re a crowd of cheats and tattletales.”

Sam kept his temper, and that he did so was proof of the discipline he had had in self-mastery. Moreover, it had flashed upon him that it was his business to learn, so far as he might, the purpose of Zorn in the campaign he had waged against the club. Purely as a matter of preference he would have chosen to resort then and there to violence, but a fight would cut short the explanation he so greatly desired. So he said, quietly enough:

“There’s no truth in it. Nobody knows that better than you do.”

“I know you gave Walker away.”

“I had no such intention.”

“And he’s under sentence for breaking rules and then lying about what he’d done.”

“Walker neither broke rules nor lied.”

Zorn shrugged contemptuously. “Oh, what’s the use, Parker? You can sing that song till you’re black in the face, and it’ll do you no good. You’re in a hole, and you can’t get yourself or your crowd out. You’ve got to have the helping hand, I tell you, and I’m the only fellow who can extend it to you.”

“Meaning that as you started all the lies about us, nobody but you can stop ’em?”

At that Zorn scowled. “See here, Parker! I’m not fussy, but if we’re to do business, you’d better keep a civil tongue in your head. Cut out the ‘lie’ foolishness! This thing didn’t require lying. You and Walker managed to mess things so, the plain record convicts you.”

“The record, as you call it, is wrong, mistaken.”

“What if it is? It stands till it’s disproved. And who’s going to disprove it? You can’t.”

“Can you?” Sam shot back at him.

“Sure I can,” said Zorn coolly.

“Then why don’t you?”

“Why should I? What have you or your push ever done for me?”

Sam checked the hot speech that trembled on his lips. “Wait a minute, Zorn,” he said. “Let me get this straight. It sounds as if you wanted to strike a bargain. Is that the idea?”

“To a dot! Fine! You’re waking up!”

“And if we do something for you, you’ll clear the record for us? You’ll go to all the people you’ve told your story to, and you’ll take it back? You’ll straighten out things for Trojan Walker with the principal? You’ll tell who did the mean work, who took that book into the examination, who——”

Zorn stopped him. “Pull up, Parker! Suppose there was crooked work—suppose there wasn’t—suppose all the trouble came from a queer accident. I’m not saying which it was. All I am saying is that I can fix your crowd and fix ’em right—clean the slate for ’em—all that. Will you be sensible and make a trade?”

“What kind of a trade?”

Zorn took a step nearer Sam, who was standing on the outer bank of the narrow roadside ditch. The movement brought the two boys very close together.

“This is straight talk—understand? I mean business.”

“All right,” said Sam. “Go on!”

“I’ll see the slate’s cleaned for you and your crowd, if——”

“If what?”

“If you’ll do what I want you to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Back me up. I’ve got some plans. You can help me—you and your gang. You can help me a lot.”

“How?” Sam shot the query at Zorn.

Zorn’s answer was prompt enough; plainly, he had his ideas clearly formulated.

“The way to get a thing is to make up your mind just what you want and then go for it. Now, I want to be boss of the class and of the school next year—I don’t make any bones about it—to you.”

Sam smiled, a little grimly. “Go on,” he said.

“To be boss, I’ve got to have backing. I need yours—and by yours I mean your whole club’s.”

“Backing for what?”

“Well, to begin with, there’s the meeting to form a County Inter-School Athletic Association. One Junior will be on our school’s committee. I’m after that job, and I want a practically unanimous election by the class. I can have it, if your crowd will swing into line. Then, there’s talk of a school athletic council next year. If I land one, I can land the other, too. Then there’s the Valley Debating League. It hasn’t amounted to much lately, but I can get hold of it, and build it up. And there are some other things—never mind them now, though; they’ll naturally follow the others.”

Sam stared at Zorn; there was more than a trace of amazement in his expression.

“Whew! but you’re scheming to be a regular Pooh-Bah! You want to be the whole thing!”

Zorn nodded coolly. “That’s the ticket, Parker. No use pretending anything else. But there isn’t a thing I’ve mentioned that I can’t have, if your club will play my game. I take off my hat to you for the way you hold your bunch together. What’s more, I know perfectly well that you’ve got a lot of influence in the class—and I want that influence. You’re kind of down and out now, but, as I’ve told you, I can put the lot of you back on your feet. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Sam quietly.

Zorn grinned. “Good! Now we’re coming down to business.”

A fine line showed in Sam’s forehead. “Zorn, this means you want to trade on the fact you can clear the Trojan of charges of which he isn’t guilty.”

“The Trojan and you, too. They’re more down on you—the class, I mean—they’re sorer on you, Parker, than they are on Walker.”

“Because of the lies—no; I’ll call them reports—you’ve spread?”

“That’s better.”

“Then you own up you did make all the trouble? Just what did you tell about us?”

“Never mind what I said. It was enough—and not too much.”

“And you can say enough more to straighten everything out?”

“That’s right—you’ve got the combination.”

“What will you say?”

“You’ll find out—the day you vote as I tell you to.”

Sam’s expression was growing more belligerent. “Zorn, you’re a miserable skunk, but you’ve trapped yourself. You’ve owned up you practically lied about us. When I tell that to folks——”

“Tell, and be hanged! What good will it do you? Nobody’ll believe you!”

“But you said it!”

At that Zorn laughed. “Ho, ho! Parker, you’re a mark, you’re easy! Where’ll be your witnesses?”

“You mean, you’ll deny it?”

“Sure! That’s the advantage of having nobody else around when you’re talking confidentially.”

Sam gasped. Here was a standard of conduct which was new to him. “You—you——”

“Oh, I wasn’t born yesterday,” Zorn interposed. “I know when to make speeches to a crowd, and when to take ’em one at a time. Nobody has heard what I’ve told you to-day; you can’t bring witnesses. My word is as good as yours—no; better. I haven’t got the school down on me. But that’s not the first question, which is, will you do business?”

“No—not that sort of business!” Sam cried wrathfully.

Zorn scowled. “You’re an idiot, then. I offer you a chance to get yourself and your crowd in right again, and you won’t have it, eh? What do you want? What do you propose to do?”

“Thrash you!” said Sam promptly. “There’s a licking coming to you, Zorn, and after what you’ve said to-day, it’s time you had it.”

Zorn laughed scornfully. “Guess I’ll have something more to say about that, Parker. The fellow that can whip me doesn’t wear your shoes.”

Sam began to wriggle out of his jacket. “You wait a minute, and we’ll see about that!” he said curtly.

But Zorn didn’t wait. There was a second in which Sam, with his arms still held by the sleeves of his half-removed coat, was helpless against attack. Zorn improved the chance, though by the schoolboy code he was violating all the principles of fair play. He struck Sam a vicious blow on the forehead. Under the impact Sam reeled; lost his footing; slipped down the bank of the ditch, and measured his length on the ground. As he struggled to his feet, and completed the task of freeing himself from his coat, Zorn, who had sprung to his machine and started his motor, was out of reach and retreating at speed.

Sam shouted a challenge to him to halt and accept combat. It is doubtful if Zorn heard his voice above the bark of the motor, but at that instant he turned in his saddle and waved a derisive farewell.