“You tell him,” said Roy, subsiding on to an inverted bucket with a sigh.

“No, sir,” answered Chub; “you’re chairman and you’ve got to make the report to the—er—meeting.”

“Well, you don’t have to tell me anything,” said Harry, who had just entered and was unbuttoning the cape which she had worn across from the Cottage. “Papa told mama about it at supper. He—he thinks it’s a joke!”

“That’s right,” said Roy ruefully, “that’s just what he does think.”

“But you told him it wasn’t, didn’t you?” Dick demanded impatiently.

“Yes, several times, but he only smiled and said he guessed it wasn’t quite practical—”

“Practicable,” corrected Chub.

“Practical!”

“Practicable; I noticed especially and thought what a nice word it was.”

“Look here, I’m chairman, and if I say practical—”

“Practical it is,” said Chub. “I’ll lick the first fellow that says anything else. I remember perfectly—”

“Cut it out, you two, and talk sense!” said Dick. “Do you mean that he has forbidden us to go ahead with it?”

Roy looked at Chub and Chub looked at Roy, and presently each shook his head.

“No, he didn’t forbid anything,” answered Roy finally. “He just laughed and—and—”

“Acted as though he was humoring a couple of mild lunatics,” added Chub resentfully.

“But what objections did he make?” Dick asked.

“Objections? Oh, he wasn’t very—what do you call it?—specific. He thought at first we were fooling and then when we both told him we weren’t, that we’d started the scheme and that we’d made him honorary president, he—”

“Laughed as though he had a fit,” finished Chub, smiling broadly himself in recollection.

“But what did he say?”

“Oh, he said he guessed we wanted a dormitory, but that we’d better not force events—or something like that; said thirty thousand was a big sum to raise and that maybe we’d better wait awhile and see—see how things shaped themselves.”

“Whatever that means,” added Chub.

“Did he accept the honorary presidency?” Dick asked.

“I don’t know; he said something polite, but I don’t believe he was much impressed.”

“But he didn’t decline it?”

“No; did he, Chub?”

“Nary a decline,” Chub chuckled. “He said something about you, Dick.”

“What was it?”

“Said he liked your enterprise, but maybe you’d better apply some of it to your studies.”

“I’m disappointed in papa,” said Harry sorrowfully.

“Oh, well, don’t you care,” Chub replied cheerfully. “We’ve had a lot of fun out of the scheme. I guess none of us really expected to make a go of it, anyhow, so there’s no sense in being disappointed. I move that the treasurer be instructed to return the subscriptions and that the Ferry Hill School Improvement Society be declared disbanded.”

There was silence. Harry and Roy looked questioningly at Dick, who, in turn, was gazing thoughtfully at the lantern.

“Any one second that?” continued Chub.

Again silence fell. Finally Dick looked up.

“There’s no use in you folks trying to bust up the society,” he said; “because if you do I’ll organize it again.”

“What?” exclaimed Chub. “But what’s the use, Dick? We can’t do anything without the Doctor’s help, and he’s as good as told us to forget it!”

“He hasn’t forbidden us to raise the money for a new dormitory,” said Dick doggedly, “and I, for one, am going to go ahead. If any of the rest of you want to stay in and help, all right; if not, you can withdraw and I’ll go it alone.”

“I want to stay!” cried Harry promptly.

“Well—” began Roy.

“Oh, you can’t scare me,” said Chub. “If you want to go ahead, I’m right with you. I don’t see what we can do, but I’ll stick as long as any one. We’ll nail the flag to the mast, by jingo! ‘Shoot, if you will, this old grey head, but spare your country’s flag! she said!’”

And Chub danced a jig on the barn-floor, his shadow leaping about huge and grotesque against the wall.

“I don’t want to drop out,” declared Roy. “I’m as much in earnest about this as any of you. But what’s your scheme, Dick?”

“Haven’t any,” answered Dick promptly. “But I’ll find one pretty quick. Ferry Hill’s going to have that dormitory! You wait and see! It may take longer than I thought, but it’s coming. I’ll think up a way, all right; just you give me time.”

“Good for you!” said Chub soberly. “I believe you will, Dickums. And I’m with you. I never believed much in that dormitory before, but hanged if I can’t pretty near see it to-night!”

“You could make a fellow believe in any old thing, Dick,” laughed Roy. “You ought to be a general or something in the army and lead forlorn hopes.”

“What’s a forlorn hope?” demanded Chub. But no one paid any attention to him.

“Then I’m still secretary and treasurer!” cried Harry. “I was so afraid you were going to break up the Society!”

“No, we’re not going to do anything of the sort,” said Dick stoutly. “We’re going right ahead, only we’re going to keep it quiet until we get things started. We can’t look for help from the honorary president, and so—”

“From who?” asked Roy.

“The honorary president, Doctor Emery. He hasn’t declined the office, so he’s still it, whether he knows anything about it or not.”

“That’s lovely!” cried Harry, clapping her hands and beating her heels against the grain chest on which she was seated. “It’s such a dandy joke on papa!”

“Well, he won’t help us,” Dick went on, “and so we’ll have to make a new start in a new direction. And I’ll have to find what that new direction is. But you folks want to think about it, too; four heads are better than one. And now, as it seems to be about a thousand degrees below zero in here, I move we adjourn.”

“When’s the next meeting?” asked Harry.

“I don’t know. We won’t have another until somebody has thought up something. We’ll adjourn subject to the call of the president.”

“That’s great!” said Chub. “I never did that before. It makes me feel real chesty. The secretary and treasurer will kindly carry the lantern so she won’t break her neck. I hope the next time we hold a meeting the janitor will manage to have the rooms of the society a little more comfortable as regards heat. I think I have chilblains.”

“Let’s discharge that janitor,” laughed Roy as they went out.

“All right,” agreed Dick. “Who is he?”

“Methuselah,” answered Chub promptly.

Two days later Chub and Roy encountered each other in the campus. As though at a prearranged signal each exclaimed:

“Where’s Dick?”

Then again, speaking together like members of a chorus:

“That’s what I was going to ask,” they added.

“What’s become of him?” added Roy. “I haven’t seen him more than twice since Monday night.”

“Nor I, I guess. I thought maybe he was at the Cottage, but Harry says she hasn’t seen him.”

“Was he at dinner?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Well, I wonder where—I tell you! Maybe he’s in the library. Did you look there?” Roy shook his head.

“No, that seemed an unlikely place to find him. What would he be doing there?”

“Search me,” said Chub. “Maybe he’s grinding. He’s been having a hard old time lately, I guess, with Cobb; Cobb asked him in class the other day if he had ‘an inherent antipathy’ for French.”

“What did Dick say?” asked Roy with a smile.

“Said no, he guessed it was ‘a constitutional repugnance!’”

“Lovely!” laughed Roy. “Was Cobb peeved?”

“No, he just sort of grinned and told Dick he’d better amend his constitution. Let’s go over and see if he’s there.”

So they got into sweaters and gloves again and battled their way across to School Hall. At first glance their search looked to be fruitless, for none of the half-dozen boys about the big table in the library proved to be Dick. But Roy stepped inside the door and spied their quarry down in a corner of the room by the magazine shelves. He was seated on the top of the little step-ladder with a magazine spread open on his knees and his head bent closely above it. Roy and Chub tiptoed softly toward him, but he heard them coming, and smiled placidly as they drew near. Roy thought he turned the pages of the magazine, but was not sure; at all events when Roy snatched it out of his hands it was opened at an article entitled “The Art of Fly-Casting.”

“What are you reading that silly rot for?” he whispered. “Come on over to the study-room and talk to us.”

But Dick shook his head calmly.

“I’m very comfortable here,” he answered. “I’m improving my mind.”

“Well, I don’t say that isn’t possible,” whispered Chub scathingly; “but you’d better be studying other things than fly-casting. Come on, Dick.”

But Dick was obdurate and as the rules forbade noise or scuffling in the library they were forced to let him have his way. But they had the satisfaction of telling him softly but earnestly what they thought of him, and Chub even managed dexterously to get a grip on his neck and force him to rub his nose against the magazine before leaving him. When they reached the door and looked back Dick was once more intently reading.

“Silly chump!” growled Chub as they reached the hall. “What’s he want to study fly-casting for, especially at this time of year?”

“I don’t believe he was reading that at all,” answered Roy. “I think he turned the pages before we got to him.”

“He did? Let’s go over after supper and look through that magazine. Did you notice what it was?”

“Yes, but not what number; and as there’s a whole row of them I guess we’d have a long hunt. We’ll make him tell us the truth when we get hold of him.”

“All right. I’ll bet he’s up to something, though.”

But when supper was over and they looked around for Dick that person had again disappeared. They searched the two dormitories and then traveled across to the library again. There sat the missing one, perched once more on the top of the step-ladder with a magazine before him. This time they didn’t enter, for Mr. Buckman was on the other side of the room and they knew he would not allow any conversation. For a while they huddled about the radiator in the corridor and waited for Dick to appear. But he didn’t come, and as each had studying to do, presently they were forced to depart without him. But Dick couldn’t hope to elude vengeance forever, and when bedtime came he found himself in the hands of his enemies.

“How’s your mind coming on?” asked Chub very sweetly, as he pulled Dick over backward on his bed and sat on him. “Improving, is it?”

“Know all about fly-casting by this time, I suppose,” remarked Roy, as he rubbed the captive’s nose the wrong way. “It’s a fine thing to know about, fly-casting, Dick.”

“Oh, great!” Chub agreed, jumping himself up and down to an accompaniment of groans from Dick. “When I consider, Roy, how little I know about fly-casting I’m utterly appalled at my ignorance. And think of the time we’re wasting, too! Why, we might be out on the river all day long, Roy, casting the merry little fly across the ice. Think of that, will you?”

“Let me up!” groaned Dick.

“What? Let you up? Why, Chub, I think you’re sitting on the gentleman! How careless of you! Kindly remove yourself from the Champion Fly-Caster of Ferry Hill School. Let him up, Chub, and he will cast a few flies for us. Kindly look around, Chub, and catch a fly or two.”

“Don’t tell me,” begged Chub almost tearfully, “that this gentleman here is Mr. Somes, the World-Famed Fly-Caster! Don’t tell me that I have offered such an indignity to one so—so honored! I beg of you not to tell me, Roy!”

“You get—off of me—or I’ll tell—you something—you won’t want to—hear!” gasped Dick, kicking wildly.

“The gentleman seems uneasy, Roy,” said Chub. “Supposing you place your thumb on his nose and bear down gently but firmly. There, that’s it! I beg your pardon, sir? You will do what? You will kick— Roy, did you ever hear such language in all your life? Isn’t it disgraceful? Why, he absolutely threatens us with bodily harm! My dear Mr. Fly-Caster, let me beg of you to calm yourself! There, I feared you would hurt yourself! That iron is quite hard, isn’t it! Broken your shin? Oh, I trust not, Mr. Fly-Caster.”

“Let him up,” laughed Roy. “We’ll be late for bed, the whole bunch of us.”

“Then let us fly,” said Chub. With a bound he cleared the bed just ahead of the blow Dick aimed and went racing down-stairs to the Junior Dormitory. Roy made for the washroom and as Dick was encumbered with some of the bedclothes which had wrapped themselves about his legs during the struggle, he reached it in safety and was able to stand off the enemy with a tooth-mug filled with water until terms of peace were agreed upon.

Strange to say, on the following day Dick was again mysteriously missing, and this time he was not to be discovered anywhere. The corner of the library was deserted, he was not in the dormitory or the gymnasium, Harry had not seen him and, in short, he seemed to have taken wings and flown. Roy and Chub were on their mettle and were resolved to find him and bring him to book. But at four o’clock in the afternoon, after a whole hour’s search, they were forced to own defeat.

“I don’t see where he can be,” said Chub. “We’ve looked everywhere. Look here! I’ll just bet that Harry knows where he is! Let’s go over and make her own up.”

But Harry vowed that she knew nothing of Dick’s whereabouts and the others were again stumped.

“It’s mighty funny,” growled Chub. “And he’s up to something too; you mark my words! He’s up to mischief!”

“And we’re not in it,” grieved Roy.

“Oh!” cried Harry suddenly. “Have you tried the barn?”

“No!” answered the others in a breath. “Come on!”

They raced together along the curving drive and reached the barn quite out of breath. Chub held up a warning finger.

“He must be in here,” he whispered. “We’ve looked everywhere else. So let’s surprise him. Go easy and I’ll try the door.”

They tiptoed up and Chub lifted the wooden latch. The door yielded. With a frightful yell Chub threw the door open and they darted in. There was no one in sight.