“Neither did I.”
“Here are lots of cigarette butts.”
“Yes, Pep, and—look in the corner.”
Pepper looked in the direction pointed out. From under a pile of old leaves, which the wind had blown into the boathouse when the door was open, shone the neck of a bottle.
“A wine bottle, I declare, Andy. Can it be that some of the fellows have been drinking down here?”
“I don’t know. It looks a little like it.”
“But that is against the rules.”
“So is smoking, and those butts look to be pretty fresh.”
The boys were mystified, but could not answer the question which arose in their minds. They looked around for what they were after, but could not mend the broken skate.
“I’ll have to take it down to Cedarville and have it mended,” said the acrobatic youth. “Maybe I can get off to-morrow.”