The old man's face had relaxed a little and he no longer muttered under his breath. Ben winked at the boys who had drawn nearer and were enjoying the situation to the utmost. "Now, just for old times' sake," continued Ben, "just tell me what was the last real, good, old-fashioned trick you ever played?" The old man cast a half-suspicious look at the smiling young man by his side, but made no reply. "Too bad you forget," said Ben, "but I'll bet an apple to an oyster you don't forget that last game you played."
"Who told you about it?" snapped out the old man.
"Never mind. Do you suppose such a game as that will ever be forgotten? I'm going to tell these boys all about it some day, see if I don't."
Nathan wheeled around in his chair and glanced over the row of young faces before him. Then he leaned back in his chair and sighed.
"I'll bet you wouldn't mind a good game now, but you've no use for these boys and they haven't much for you. When's the next game, boys?" He turned to the row of faces.
"We've stopped playing baseball for this year," came in a chorus.
"Don't have football up here?"
"No, we haven't any team."
"Too bad. I might join you on that. Well, Mr. Keener, some of these days you and I will go to a game together; we'll get that fixed up. Which of you boys was it who so doughtily sped to the rescue of the young maiden?"
"Jim Tabor; it was his sister the old man was after," piped up the boys.