et a cooky that some of the others made old Duke turn the heat
on," declared Gif.

"Either that or else some of our chums turned it on when he wasn't
watching," answered Jack. Some time later they found out that Bob Nixon
had turned on the heat unbeknown to Snopper Duke. It was also learned
that Professor Grawson and Professor Brice knew nothing about the heat
having been turned off.

About half-past twelve Snopper Duke appeared again, this time with one of
the under teachers and two of the waiters. The under teacher had his arms
full of books.

"I have had some of your text books brought up here," explained Professor
Duke. "There is no sense in your wasting your time here doing nothing. I
want you to study the same as if you were attending your classes. I have
also had your dinner brought up."

"Do you expect us to study in a cold room?" questioned Jack. He had
thrown one of the small bed covers over the radiator and added a book or
two so that the teacher might not notice that it was warm.

"I'll not discuss that point with you, Rover," was Snopper Duke's sharp
reply. "You can eat your dinner, and then go at your studies." And
thereupon he directed the two waiters to deposit the fresh trays on the
table and take the old ones away. Then the seven cadets were locked up as
before.

In comparison, the dinner was just as scanty as the breakfast had been.
For each pupil there was a small boiled potato, almost cold, a few lima
beans, a small slice of roast beef, and one slice of unbuttered bread.
There were also several paper drinking cups, to indicate that the cadets
might drink all the water they cared to draw from the faucet in the
bathroom.

"Regular miser's lunch," was Andy's comment, as he surveyed it.

"Exactly!" answered Fred. And then he added dryly: "What are we going to
use that sugar and condensed milk on?"

"Oh, the condensed milk will go fine on the bread," put in Spouter. "I
used to like condensed milk sandwiches."

"And you can eat the lump sugar for dessert if you want to," put in
Jack.

All began to eat, and in the midst of the meal they heard another knock
on the door. This time Ned Lowe was there, one of their chums who was a
great singer and banjo player.

"Be on the watch for the beautiful fishing pole," sang Ned in a low
voice. "Hurry up. We can't stay up here very long."

All leaped for the window, and a few minutes later the fishing rod came
once more into view, this time with anothe