"Very interesting, Rover, very interesting indeed," murmured the head of Brill. "But even that did not excuse your hitting this man in the head with a snowball and hurting him."
"There is another point I would like to mention," said Stanley. "We were having the contest on the college grounds, and Mr. Fogg was struck on the roadway where it runs through our grounds."
"Ah! I see. That might make a difference. The highway is more or less of a public one, it is true, but it has never been turned over to the county authorities, so it really forms a part of our grounds still. But of one thing I wish to be sure, Rover—did you aim at Mr. Fogg, or was the snowballing unintentional?"
"I didn't see him at all," answered Sam. "Some of the fellows rushed behind the bushes and I simply let drive along with a number of others. Then Fogg appeared and claimed that I had hit him in the head. I rather think he tells the truth, although I am not positive."
"In that case he would have to prove that you were guilty. Besides that, if it came to a matter of law, he would have to prove actual damages, and I do not see how he could claim fifty dollars if he was not hurt more than you say. If you wish, you can leave the whole matter in my hands and I will have it investigated."
"Thank you very much, Doctor Wallington," returned Sam, warmly. "This lifts a load off my mind. Of course I will pay whatever you settle on;" and so the matter was allowed to rest.
A thaw had set in and the snow began to disappear rapidly from the roads and fields around Brill. There was a good deal of slush, which rendered some of the highways almost impassable, so that it was not until a week later that Sam had an opportunity to visit Hope. In the meantime, however, he had sent a nice little note to Grace in which no mention was made of the Walthams. He had looked for an answer but none had come.
"Where bound, Sam?" questioned Songbird, when he saw his roommate getting ready to use his automobile.
"I'm going for a run to Hope. Do you want to come along?" and Sam's eye had a twinkle in it.
"You might run me around to the Sanderson place. It won't take long in the auto," returned the would-be poet. "If I can get there, I won't mind walking back this evening. I've been wanting to go for a long while, but the roads have been so poor I couldn't make it."