“I will, and I’ll bring a club of Don’s that has the leather hanging by the skin of its teeth; it’s a disgrace to the study and ought to be fixed.”
They had reached the library, and Wayne went to the shelves and began a hunt.
“Find one of those epitome things,” suggested Gray.
“Where are they? Oh, I see.” He laid his hand on a volume, but as he did so his eyes encountered the title of the one next it. “Ploetz’s Epitome of Universal History,” he read. “Who was it spoke of that once?” He took the book down and withdrew to the window. As he did so the volume opened apparently of its own accord at the three hundred and fifty-second page.
“Well, I’ll be switched!” cried Wayne.
“What’s up?” asked his companion, coming toward him.
“Why—er—nothing at all. I guess I’ll take this with me.”
Together they passed out, and parted at the corner of the gymnasium. Wayne hurried on to Turner Hall and sprang up two flights of stairs.
“I hope Benson’s in,” he said to himself as he knocked lustily at the door of No. 36. He was, and in a moment Wayne was crossing the study toward where the occupant sat by the open window reading something which looked but little like a text-book.
“Hello, Gordon!” cried Benson. “Glad to see you; sit down and be happy.” For reply Wayne opened the library book and laid it face up on the window seat.