ANDY SHANKS GETS BUSY

There were great times on the campus that night. By a special decree of Dr. Rally, the regular study period was omitted, and after supper the boys had full liberty to do as they pleased until bedtime, provided they did not stray beyond the limits of the grounds.

They built a bonfire and paraded about it, carrying brooms to indicate the clean sweep they had made of the game. They cheered the team in general, and then cheered each separate member in particular. They cheered the final touchdown and the boy who had made it. They cheered Professor Raymond, and even raised a doubtful cheer for Dr. Rally. They were ready to cheer for anything or anybody that offered them the slightest excuse. They yelled for speeches from Granger, the captain, and from Fred, the hero of the day.

Tony Dirocco brought out his violin and played a series of rollicking tunes that set their feet to jigging and their hands to clapping. Billy was made to sing his choicest songs until he was hoa.r.s.e. Then they all gathered on the broad steps, and lifted up their young voices in the old school songs that swelled out into the night. And it was a tired, but thoroughly happy crowd that scattered at last and went reluctantly to their rooms.

Altogether, it had been one of the greatest days and nights that Rally Hall had ever known. Fred had won his spurs and established his footing firmly in the school. He had been popular from the first in his own dormitory, but now he was known and liked by all the boys at the Hall.

Except, of course, by Andy Shanks, Sid Wilton, and a few of their stripe. Andy, if possible, hated him now worse than ever. It had been gall and wormwood for him when Fred had made the touchdown.

He, himself, had had an ambition to play on the team. He was big and heavy enough for a place in the line. But he was stupid in getting the signals and slow in running down under kicks. Besides, he was a trouble maker on the team, disobeying the captain and quarreling with the other members. They had tried him for a while, but he was of no use, and both Granger and Professor Raymond had ruled him out.

So that he was doubly angered at Fred for having made a brilliant success where he had scored a dismal failure. He had hoped to put Fred in bad repute with the boys by giving him a beating. But since that day on the campus when Fred had defied him and dared him to come on, he had lost all ambition in that direction.

But he was more determined than ever to crush him by hook or by crook, and he cudgeled his slow brain to find a way that would be safe for himself and disastrous to Fred.

As the weeks went by, however, and nothing occurred to him, he began almost to despair.

But the Evil One is said to "look after his own," and as the Christmas holidays drew nearer, Andy had an inspiration.

The winter weather set in unusually early, and the air was sharp and stinging. A score or more of the boys were down in the gymnasium, chinning the bar and swinging in the rings.

"If this kind of weather keeps up," said Melvin, "it won't be long before we have skating. There's ice forming on the lake now, down near the edges."

"Over the ice-bound lake we fly, Swift as the wind and free,"

chanted Tom Eldridge, as he made a flying leap from one horizontal bar to the next.

"'Swift' all right, but it won't be 'free,'" grumbled Billy Burton. "I won't feel 'free,' till I get those awful examinations off my mind.

They'll be here now in less than a week, and I can't think of anything else."

"They'll be pretty tough, do you think?" asked Fred.

"Tough!" broke in Slim, "they'll be as tough as a pine knot. Professor Raymond is a shark on algebra. He'd rather solve a problem than eat. And because it's so easy for him, he thinks it ought to be easy for us, too.

He puts down corkers for us to do, and then looks at us in pained surprise if we think they're hard. If I get through this time, it'll be due to a special providence."

"I wish we knew what he was going to ask, beforehand," sighed Billy.

"Couldn't we bone up on them then? I'd get a hundred per cent. sure."

"Wouldn't it be bully, if we were mind readers, and knew just what questions he was going to put on that printed list?" laughed Fred.

"The first glimpse we'll get of that printed list will be when they're plumped down on the desk in front of us the day of the examination,"

said Ned Wayland. "They'll be kept snug under lock and key until then."

"Yes," chimed in Tom, "and the prof's so foxy that he doesn't even have them printed in town, for fear that some copy might get into some of the fellows' hands. He sends them away to some city to be printed, and they're sent back to him by registered mail."

"I'll bet that was the package I saw him putting away in his desk yesterday!" exclaimed Fred. "It was a long manila envelope, stuffed with something that crackled, and it had a lot of sealing wax on it. I noticed that he seemed to be very careful of it, and put it away under a lot of other papers before he locked his desk."

"Likely enough, those were the examination slips," said Billy.

"We'll see them soon enough, but then it'll be too late to do any good,"

remarked Melvin.

The conversation took another turn and the subject was forgotten for the time.

Andy, busy at one of the rings, had overheard the talk, although he had not joined in it because of the terms on which he was with Fred and his friends. He had p.r.i.c.ked up his ears at Fred's laughing remark about mind reading, and from then on he had followed closely all that had been said about the papers. An idea had suddenly come into his mind, and a slow, evil smile spread over his face as he turned it over and over.

Two nights later, Fred woke from his sleep about midnight, conscious that something was bothering him. He found that it was the moon, which was just then at the full, and was shining in his face. He rose, and went to the window to draw down the shade.

The campus was flooded with light and Fred stood for a moment, enjoying the beauty of the scene.

Suddenly, something moving beneath him attracted his attention.

The buildings threw a heavy shadow, made all the deeper by contrast with the moonlight beyond. But Fred could just make out a moving figure coming down the steps swiftly, and crouching as though to avoid detection.

At first he thought it was the dog belonging to Big Sluper, the janitor.

But as the figure turned around the corner of the building, he saw that it was a boy, rather slight in figure. His hat was drawn over his eyes and his coat over the lower part of his face, so that it was impossible to recognize him.

"That's queer," mused Fred. "I wonder who he was and what he was doing at this time of night."

But the floor was cold and his eyes were heavy with sleep, and he did not debate the problem long. He crept back into the warm bed, drew the covers over him, and in a few minutes was fast asleep.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE BLOW FALLS

The next day, after school hours, Professor Raymond opened his desk to get a paper that he wanted. He was about to close it again, when something in the tumbled condition of its contents, attracted his attention. He reached sharply over to the lower right-hand corner, and felt for a package that he knew had been there the day before.

A startled look came into his face, and he felt again more carefully.

Then he hastily took out everything that the desk contained.

He sat down in his chair with a jolt, and a grim expression came into his eyes. Then he made a painstaking examination of the lock.

It had not been broken, nor was there any other evidence that violence had been used.

He took out his penknife and sc.r.a.ped the lock. A tiny shaving of something soft was brought out by the blade, and close examination showed that it was wax.

He rang the bell for the janitor, and when Big Sluper came in, he motioned him to a chair.

"Sluper," he said abruptly, "my desk was robbed last night."

"What!" cried Sluper, starting up. "How could that be? Are you sure, sir?"