“Hold on there, Chucklehead!” commanded Don Mercer.
“Where are you off to in such a rush, kid?” called Jim.
The three boys shook hands heartily. They were the best of friends and had spent the previous summer on a cruise down the coast of Maine. During that time they helped capture a gang of marine bandits who had been pilfering the coast for some time. Don and Jim were sons of a wealthy lumberman of Bridgewater, Maine, and Terry, who had only a mother and sister, lived in a town near them. They had been school friends and Terry had won a scholarship to Woodcrest Military Institute during the previous spring. Both Jim and Don had no future plans, and wishing to be with their cheerful comrade, whose bobbing red head had earned him the name of Chucklehead, they had enrolled in the same school. Now, after an exciting summer, details of which were related in the first volume of this series, The Mercer Boys’ Cruise in the Lassie, they had met on the platform of the Portville station in New York State, ready to begin school again.
“It’s swell to see you guys,” greeted Terry. “Were you on the train I came in on?”
“No, we just arrived on the later one,” offered Jim. “What were you up to with that lieutenant?”
“Oh, nothing,” confessed Terry. “He was so dignified looking that I couldn’t help leading him on a little, that’s all. Hey, let’s go. If we don’t get a move on he’ll court-martial us as soon as we get to the school. He had me with that last crack, didn’t he?”
The boys picked up their suitcases and climbed into the station wagon, the three friends sitting in the first seat back of the driver. The driver was a little man with scant gray hair who took no particular notice of them, but drooped unemotionally in the forward seat. After seeing that all of the new members were safely in, the correct-looking lieutenant climbed up beside the driver.
“Let’s go, Ashley,” he directed.
The driver stepped on the starter but the car stalled before lurching down the road toward the distant hills and woods. The three friends had plenty to talk about, but the rest of the boys were silent. Most of them were making their first trip away from home and all were strangers, so they sat in silence and watched the scenery. The boys on the first seat gradually grew quiet too and enjoyed the magnificent view unfolded in the sweeping hills and rolling woods from which the academy had derived its name.
The seats of the station wagon were plain board planks and the legs of the boys dangled in plain view beneath them. Right in front of Terry were the gray-clad legs of the lieutenant, and the boy’s eyes wandered more than once to them. A thoughtful look came into his gray eyes and he began to feel in the lapel of his coat. From it he drew two pins and then leaned over to Don.