“I’m worried sick,” acknowledged Chipper. “I’d give anything in the world if I hadn’t taken part in that fool racket last night. You know only a year or two ago some students at West Point drove a fellow half crazy hazing him, and he knocked one of the bunch out with a chair. Came near killing him, too. The fellow didn’t die, but the doctors said it was doubtful if he’d ever get over it. Read about it in the newspapers. Funny thing, but the chap they were hazing was named Grant, too.”
“I guess this hazing business ain’t as much fun as it might be,” sighed Chub. “You’ll never get me into any more of it.”
“I think I’ve had my fill, too. I just hate to show up at the academy to-day.”
The sound of a low, peculiar whistle, like a signal, drifted in through the open door of the shed, causing them both to give a start.
“That’s Sleuth!” palpitated Chipper, starting for the door.
Hesitating on the road in front of the house, they beheld Billy Piper, who turned into the yard at once and hurried toward them, in response to a beckoning signal from Cooper. His manner was nervous and furtive, and he glanced round as if in constant apprehension of feeling the hand of an officer at his collar.
“Hello, Chub; you here?” he said. “Just come over by the lower bridge. Thought I’d come that way, so I wouldn’t have to pass through town. Say, who do you s’pose I saw waiting for the morning train over at the station? You can’t guess. It was Barker.”
“Barker?” exclaimed Chipper and Chub in a breath. “Waiting for the train? Where’s he going?”
“He didn’t want me to know he was going anywhere, but I caught him with his satchel in his fist, and he had to own up. Said he’d had an invitation to visit Fred Merwin over at Clearport. Now my deduction is——”
“The sneak!” cried Cooper resentfully. “He’s running away!”