"Now that'll do you. There's a five spot fine for using that classic so early in the season. But you know what I mean. It won't do to have class dissension."
"No, you're right. But maybe it will work itself out."
While Bruce and Morse went their ways, Tom and his chums, talking excitedly, went to Tom's room. He had some new rods and a gun he wanted to exhibit, but, most of all, he wanted to give his friends the whole history of the summer's adventures.
"Now go ahead," invited Joe Rooney, when they were all seated, more or less comfortably, on the beds and chairs in the room of the three chums. "Let's have the whole yarn."
And Tom began, telling the story of the secret of the old mill. He had not proceeded far ere there came a knock on the door.
"Come!" invited Tom, after a moment's hesitation, during which he recalled that, as the term had not officially started, there could be no danger from prowling monitors, or suspicious professors. The door opened and Bruce Bennington entered.
"Hello, Bruce, old stock!" greeted Tom, rising and holding out his hand. "Glad to see you! Here, some of you fellows get up and give one of our betters a seat."
"Not a one! Not a one!" exclaimed Bruce, holding up a protesting hand.
"The floor's good enough for me."
But several chairs being offered by admiring Sophomores, who knew how to appreciate one of the best-loved lads in Elmwood Hall, Bruce accepted a seat.
"Go ahead, Tom," he suggested. "Don't let me interrupt the festivities. I don't want to be the skeleton at the feast."