* * * * *
"Halloo, Dave!" It was such a remarkable cry that David turned at once, although he was almost on a dead run across the campus.
"Hey, there!" shouted Percy Whitney as David turned. "Whew! How you do go, Dave."
"What's the matter?" cried David, running lightly back to stand in front of Percy. "Dear me, Percy, you have lost your eyeglasses!" with a glance at the other's flushed face; "wait, I'll find the things."
"I yelled my lungs sore," said Percy in irritation, dropping down on his knees to pass his hands carefully over the campus grass, "and now I've lost these. Bad luck to you, Dave, for it!"
"Oh! go without 'em," said David, getting gingerly down on all-fours to prowl around on the greensward.
"Go without 'em?" repeated Percy, sitting straight in indignation. "How could I see, pray tell? Don't be a donkey, Dave."
David said nothing, but fell to a more diligent search, while Percy bewailed his loss, watching eagerly David's nimble fingers moving in and out of the little tufts of grass.
"Shades of the departed specs," cried David, also sitting straight and peering with his keen blue eyes in a birdlike way along the sward. "It's a mysteri—oh, Great Caesar!" then he fell on his back on the campus, and rolled and laughed, to bring up red and shining, only to tumble over and roll again.
"Of all the idiots in the universe, Dave Pepper," fumed Percy. "What's the matter?"