“Yes; I have grown from a boy into a man of twenty-five. I should be more than a match for old Musgrave now,” and the young man regarded with satisfaction his muscular arms and well-knit figure.
“Really,” he added, “I shouldn’t mind if there were occasion, having a tussle with the old fellow. I fancy he wouldn’t stand long before his old pupil.”
There were several boys scattered about the campus.
August Locke and Guy entered, and looked about them for someone whom they could interrogate.
The nearest was a stout, well-knit boy, with a strong, resolute face, and a frank expression. In fact, it was Jim Rawdon, already introduced as the friend and adviser of Vivian Bell.
“My boy,” said Locke, with pleasant courtesy, “can you tell me if Dr. Musgrave is in his office?”
“No, sir; not this morning.”
“Isn’t that rather strange—at this hour? You see, I am an old pupil, and haven’t forgotten the ways of the place.”
“He is usually here, sir; but he made an early start to hunt up a pupil who ran away a day or two since.”
“What is the name of the pupil?” asked Guy, quickly.