At the first corner he turned sharply, and when the boys reached it, they saw him loping along at a pace that carried him rapidly over the ground. The houses had thinned out, and there was no one to intercept him as he made for the woods that lay a little way ahead.

"Oh, if Teddy were here with the constable," exclaimed Fred, in an agony of apprehension, as he saw the prey escaping.

They all broke into a run, and, as they were younger and fleeter, they were soon at the fellow's heels. His whiskey sodden body could not keep up the pace, and as they neared him, he stopped running and turned about savagely.

"What are you fellows chasing me for?" he snarled, a dangerous light in his eyes.

"What are you running away for?" countered Fred.

"None of yer business," the fellow growled. "Now you git, or I'll split yer heads," he snapped as he drew an ugly looking blackjack from his pocket.

For an instant the boys hesitated. Then Fred had an inspiration.

"That's the man, Constable," he cried, looking over the fellow's shoulder. "Nab him."

The man turned in alarm to see who was behind him, and at the same instant Fred dived for his legs in a flying tackle that brought him to the ground. It was a splendid tackle, but the man was big and heavy, and, as they struck the ground, his knee drove into Fred's chest and knocked the breath out of him.

In another second, the other boys could have launched themselves upon the tramp, and their united strength would have been able to hold him down until the arrival of the officer. This had been Fred's idea when he had made the tackle. But his mind worked so much more quickly and his action had been so swift, that they did not at once grasp the situation.

And when they did, it was too late.

The tramp, desperate now, got on his feet and rushed at them with his blackjack. Before that deadly weapon they scattered. The next instant, he was running toward the shelter of the woods. Fred still lay gasping for breath, and, not knowing how badly he might have been hurt, his chums rushed to help him to his feet.

He was white and shaken, but had sustained no injury beside the temporary loss of breath. In a few minutes he was as good as ever. But by this time the tramp had made good his escape.

Presently Teddy came up with the constable and a careful search of the woods was made. But it was all to no purpose.

"Hard luck, old scout," condoled Lester, "but that flying tackle of yours was a dandy."

"That knee of his was better," mourned Fred. "It knocked me out good and proper."

"You threw an awful scare into him, anyway," laughed Bill. "I'll bet he's running yet."

"He can't always get away with it," prophesied Teddy. "That's twice. The next time will be the third time and out."

They got back to the school tired and vexed. But their thoughts were turned in another and a welcome direction by a tip given them by Slim Haley on their return.

"Big feed on," he whispered. "Ned Wayland's uncle sent him a ten-dollar gold piece for his birthday, and Ned has blown nearly all of it for a spread in the dormitory to-night."

"Best news I've heard since Hector was a pup," exulted Teddy.

"Ned's the real goods," said Fred. "I wish he had a birthday every month."

It was hard for the occupants of Dormitory Number Three to keep their minds on their lessons during the study period that followed supper, and it was with a whoop and a bang that they rushed into their quarters, when the gong released them from further work that night.

"On with the dance, let joy be unrefined," sang out Teddy, as he flung a pillow at Billy Burton.

"You mean un_con_fined," corrected Billy.

"I mean just what I said," replied Teddy. "I know the bunch of lowbrows I'm talking to."

"Where have you stacked the eats, Ned?" asked Tom Eldridge, who, though his ankle was still weak, found his appet.i.te as good as ever.

"In here," replied Ned, throwing open his wardrobe door and displaying a host of things that made their mouths water.

"Wow, what a pile!" exclaimed Lester Lee.

"It won't be a pile long, when you cormorants get at it," said Tom.

"He counted them at break of day, And when the sun set, where were they?"

he quoted.

"Officer, he's in again," said Melvin.

"It takes more than a sprained ankle to keep Tom off the poetry stuff,"

laughed Fred. "Nothing less than an axe will do the business."

"How did you get all this fodder up here?" asked Slim.

"I gave Jimmy, the laundryman, half a dollar for the use of his hand cart," explained Ned, "and he sent his boy up with it, with directions to wait down on the other side of the gymnasium. Then I slipped out between supper time and study period, and smuggled them in without any one's seeing me. The janitor nearly caught me, though. Big Sluper was just turning into the corridor as I got the last thing in and shut the wardrobe door."

"We want to look out for Beansey, though," he warned them. "He's monitor this week, and you know how strict he is."

"Beansey," as the boys called him, because he came from Boston, was a monitor and a.s.sistant instructor. He was very lank and solemn, and extremely precise in his manner of speech. In the matter of discipline, he was almost as severe as Dr. Rally himself, and the boys sometimes referred to him as "Hardtack's understudy."

"Who cares for Beansey?" said the irrepressible Teddy. "If he comes, we'll sic the cheese on him. It smells strong enough to down him. What kind is it, Ned? Brie, Roquefort, Limburger?"

"It is pretty strong," admitted Ned. "When I ordered it from the grocer, he turned to one of his clerks and said: 'Unchain Number Eight.'"

The laugh that followed was interrupted by a warning:

"Lay low. Here he comes now."

"Beansey" came in with measured step and walked slowly through the dormitory. His sharp eyes took in everything, but there was nothing to awaken distrust, even in his suspicious soul. All the boys were busily engaged in getting ready for bed, and frequent yawns seemed to indicate that they would be only too glad to get there.

As the door closed behind him, there was a smothered chuckle of exultation.

"He won't be round now for another hour," said Tom, "and what we can do in an hour will be plenty."

"You bet!" said Bill Garwood. "Just watch our smoke."

They slipped the bolt on the door to avoid a sudden surprise. Then they dragged the clothing and mattress off one of the beds, and made a table of the springs. On this they piled, indiscriminately, the things brought from the wardrobe, gloating over the evidence of Ned's generous provision for the "inner man."

"Say!" exclaimed Fred, "why didn't you clean out the whole store while you were about it?"

"Some feast," commented Melvin. "Cheese and pickles and sardines, and pies and chocolates, and ginger ale and soda water, and cake and jelly, and grapes and----"

"Shut up, Mel, and get busy, or you'll get left," said Slim, as he speared a bunch of sardines, an example which the rest needed no urging to follow.