After lunch, it was decided to visit Ripley Academy at once.
Norman Redfern explained that the schools were separated by only half a mile, and that Ripley, the nearer, was about a mile from town.
The day was pleasant, with a sky full of flying clouds, the country charming, and the boys, in spite of the thought of meeting the fiery Colonel, were in high spirits.
Ripley was an older institution than its rival. The building was a plain, almost austere structure, with a columned entrance and a portico from which the Hudson was seen between stately elms.
The building occupied by Thornton Preparatory School was of a graceful modern design, from the polished knob on the front door to the high, battlemented tower.
Almost midway between the schools was a level field. And it was on this that many exciting contests for athletic supremacy took place.
When the boys arrived on the Ripley campus, they found it occupied by a lively crowd of students. An air of excitement prevailed; evidently some event of great importance was about to take place. Groups had collected; songs were being sung; and most of these referred to the unfortunate Thorntons.
“Well, well—my gracious! All the Bills together!” cried a hearty voice.
Bill Stiles, his face flushed with excitement, rushed forward, shook each of their hands in turn, slapped “Bill number three,” otherwise Fred Winter, on the back, and called loudly for Roy Pinger.
“Gee whiz! You’re just in time,” cried the latter. “There’s going to be something doing. Poor Thornton—don’t laugh too hard at ’em. Come on, Bill; it’s time to skip.” And the two Ripley seniors were off.