"Oh, come now," went on Bert. "I was only joking. I sure am glad you thought of it. It's a wonder some of us didn't fall to that idea before this. We'll tell Tom, as soon as he comes in, and I'll wager that if we go about it right we can clear this thing up in a day or so."
"I'm sure I hope so," assented Jack. "It's getting on my nerves as well as on Tom's."
"Yes, and I guess every fellow in college will be glad to know the truth of it. Why, the team's going to pieces just on account of this miserable horse-poisoning case, and the burning of a little hay."
"Still, it did look black for Tom, especially when he had that quarrel with Appleby over the trampled corn, and made some remarks about getting even because he had to pay for it."
"Yes, that was where Tom made a mistake. I guess he's ready to admit that himself," and Bert paced the room. "I wish he'd come, so we could tell him," he added. "Do you know where he is?"
"No, except that he said he was going off alone to take a walk, as he's done several times of late. I offered to go along, but he said he wanted to be by himself, so I didn't urge it."
"Off getting clews, I expect."
"Yes," assented Jack.
The two chums sat silent in the room, waiting for the lad whom they both loved even better than a brother. The past days had been trying on all of them—on every one in Elmwood Hall—from the most lordly Senior, or calm post-graduate, to the "fuzziest" Freshman, who thought he bore the weight of the whole school on his narrow shoulders.
For one and all felt the stigma that rested upon the institution—Tom most of all. True, as it happened, the affair was not as serious as had at first seemed. Only one of the farmer's horses died, and that was not a very valuable beast. The others had been very sick, though.