That night Lester Brigham and his friend Jones met in the gymnasium. Their followers came up, one after the other, and in a few minutes there was quite a crowd of boys gathered about them. Some of them spoke with great enthusiasm regarding the proposed excursion to Hamilton, while others were sullen, and had but little to say. Among the latter was Lester Brigham, who, having wasted his time and fallen behind his class in everything, saw very plainly that his chances for participating in the celebration were slim indeed. He grew angry whenever he thought that he would have to remain a prisoner at the academy while the other boys in his company were seeing no end of fun, and when he got that way, he was ready for almost anything. He saw how his enforced sojourn at Bridgeport could be turned to account; but the next thing was to make the rest of the fellows see it.
“Things couldn’t have been planned to suit us better, could they?” said Lester, as the boys crowded about him.
“They might have been planned to suit me better—a good deal better,” growled one, in reply. “I wish that invitation had been sent a month ago. Then I should have gone to work in earnest, and perhaps I would stand some chance of going to Hamilton with my company.”
“Why, do you want to go?” exclaimed Lester.
“Of course I do, and I will, too, if there is anything to be gained by faithful effort. If you catch me in any mischief before the result of the next five weeks’ study is announced, you may shoot me.”
“And me; and me,” chorused several of the boys.
“Look here, Brigham,” said Jones. “That celebration will be the grandest thing you ever saw, outside of a big city, and we mustn’t miss it.”
“I was going to suggest that it would be a good time to start off on our cruise,” said Lester. “The boys who will be left here to stand guard will be fellows after our own hearts, and we can easily induce them to pass us or to join in with us.”
“That’s my idea,” said another.