"We've got to make a record for ourselves," was the way Jack put it. "If we don't, our folks may take it in their heads to send us to some other boarding school, thinking Colonel Colby is too easy with us."
"And to take Jack away from this vicinity when he is getting so sweet on Ruth Steven——" began Randy, when he was cut short by a book flung by his cousin, landing on his shoulder.
"You cut out that talk, Randy!" cried Jack.
"Let's talk about the weather," murmured Andy, who had passed to the window. "Say, fellows, do you know, I think it's going to snow!"
"Hurrah! That means some fun snowballing!" cried Fred.
The snow came down all that night, and in the morning covered the ground to the depth of several inches. A great many of the cadets rushed out in glee, and half a dozen impromptu snowballing matches were soon in progress.
It was almost time to go in for the morning session when several of the cadets noticed a figure, huddled up in a slouch hat and a heavy overcoat, coming up from behind the Hall toward a side door.
"Here comes Bob Nixon!" yelled one of the cadets, mentioning the name of Colonel Colby's chauffeur. "Let's give him a volley."
"Right you are!" exclaimed Andy gleefully.
"Stop! Can't you see——" commenced Jack, but before he could finish his sentence both Andy and Randy had let drive at the advancing figure. One snowball took the man in the shoulder and the other landed just below his left ear.