Tom, Jack, and a number of their intimate friends were approaching the close of their Freshman year at Elmwood Hall. They had gone through the sports of the fall—football and the like, the Christmas vacation had come and gone, and now the Easter holiday was approaching.
When that was over the spring term would open—the closing term at the school—and Tom would soon be in line as a Sophomore. But much was to happen before he could count himself a second-year student.
“Think anyone will catch us?” asked George Abbot, who never could seem to stop asking questions.
“What if they do, you old interrogation point?” inquired Tom.
“Nothing, only I don’t want to be expelled just when the Freshman year is so nearly over.”
“Don’t worry. Just trust to me,” spoke Jack. “I’m running this outfit, and we’re not going to be caught.”
“There’s someone now—just ahead of us!” suddenly exclaimed Bert, drawing back. The others instinctively paused.
“No danger!” called Tom, who was a little in advance of his chums. “It’s our friend Bennington.”
“Hello, Tom Fairfield!” greeted a voice out of the darkness. “Whither away?”