"It's a long lane that has no turns. I'll get even with you for having me suspended and sent away from the Hall. My time will come yet.
"Jerry Chowden."
"Jerry Chowden," murmured Jack. "So he's trying to scare me, eh? Well
I guess he'll find I don't scare."
Jack slowly folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. He glanced at the postmark, and saw it was stamped "Chicago."
"Wonder how he got out there," he mused. "Well, I'm glad he's far away," and he gave little more thought to the matter of the bully, a nephew of Professor Grimm's, whose vain attempt to cast disgrace on Jack, in the matter of painting a pipe on the professor's portrait, had rebounded on his own head. He had been suspended for two months for the escapade, which Jack was accused of, but which our hero managed to prove himself innocent of, and, since leaving the Hall, nothing had been heard of him.
"Maybe I'll meet him if I get out west on that strange hunt of mine," thought Jack, as he went on with his chemical tests.
He worked far into the night, and when he put out his light he said to himself:
"I think I've got things just where I want them."