"He did! He's in there now. Guess he's telling President Hopkins a few fine things about Parks, Phelps and Company. Their squeak yesterday didn't do your side a bit of good, Brown."
The coach of the "outlaws" looked thoughtful. There was a gleam behind the eye-glasses which made Aleck Parks hope that a first class row might add zest to the afternoon.
"S'pose we skip over by the big front door and see him come out," he suggested. "Phelps, you an' I'll stand together close there; an' if he gives us a steely glare it'll show, perhaps, that he's been up to some mischief."
"Not a bad idea," said "Crackers," approvingly. "But, mind now, I don't want you chaps to say anything."
Followed by a large group, the party walked outside, directing their steps toward the school entrance.
"Where are you leading that army, Brown?" called Owen Lawrence from a distance.
"Follow us, and see!"
Lawrence relayed the message to Roycroft, who, with several other "outlaws," was already on his way to the practice field, the result of this move being that when Brown and his contingent arrived at the steps a straggling army was headed in the same direction.
Questions and answers were hurled from one boy to another. Naturally, no one knew anything about the matter; but many thought they did. Rumors born of a chance utterance seemed to spread with the speed of a wireless message, until an excited and jostling crowd of students surrounded the stoop-shouldered form of the chief "outlaw."
"Hello, Brown! I say—what's the matter?" came from Owen Lawrence.