That was a question the fat miller could not undertake to answer, and he had hardly breath left for any other by the time they reached the mill.
Before noon half of Ogleport was disputing with the other half whether Zeb Fuller could have been in old Parker’s orchard and up in Rodney at the same time, for there was more than a little common sympathy with the idea that no out-and-out mischief was probable in Zeb’s absence.
He had indeed been present in the flesh at but one point at a time, but the general impression was hardly so far wrong as it might have been.
“Boys,” Zeb had remarked to his faithful followers, “we did splendidly yesterday, all of us, but there’s troublesome times ahead. I understand that that city fellow’s coming back to the Academy next term, and there’ll be twice as many boarders as ever before.”
“Can’t we fix ’em just as we’ve always done?” asked Hy Allen.
“Either one of us can lick Val Manning,” said Bill Jones.
Several more of the larger boys added their confident self-assurance that the boys of Ogleport were likely to be equal to any emergency which could possibly arise, but Zeb shook his head wisely as he remarked:
“That’s all very well, so long as we only had old Sol to handle, but this new man’s a very different sort of a fellow.”
“I ain’t afraid of him,” said Hy Allen.
“Nor I.”