ing along the porch toward the meadow
gate. Out flew the non-existent line. Through the gate hurried Farmer
Mercer. Then, as though catching sight of the latter for the first time,
Horace became apparently panic-stricken. He dropped his pole, picked it
up again, looked this way and that for escape, made as though tossing a
trout back into the stream, and finally, when the farmer was less than
two hundred yards away, dropped his pole again and plunged into the
bushes.

"Hi!" shouted the pursuer. "Hi! Come back, you rascal!"

But Horace refused the invitation. Instead he made for the spot where
Otto was awaiting him, running, however, so slowly that the farmer had
him in sight for fully a minute as he threaded his way through the trees
along the creek. The farmer's cries continued and the farmer still
pursued, trying his best to head off the fugitive. But he was running a
losing race, for when Horace picked up Otto they ran in earnest and all
the farmer had for his trouble was a discarded fishing pole minus line
or hook and a vivid memory of a crimson sweater.

The two boys made a short cut for the school, but, as luck would have
it, when they reached the dormitory the troublesome Tom Forrest was wide
awake. So Horace, who had stowed the sweater under his own coat this
time, had to smuggle it under his pillow and await Tom's departure. But
Tom apparently had no present intention of leaving. And a few minutes
later Chub and Roy clattered in. When they saw Horace and Otto they
deferred telling Tom about his pole, and Chub laid himself down, very
stiffly because of his own pole, on Roy's bed. Conversation languished.
Horace mentioned the fact that he and Otto had been for a walk and Chub
replied that they too had taken a stroll. Both sides waited for the
others to leave. Suddenly the supper bell rang. Horace went to the
wash-room and Otto followed. Chub slipped off downstairs and Roy told
Tom about the pole. Tom good-naturedly told him to let the old thing go.
Then Roy, by the merest chance, noticed that his trunk was unlocked,
turned the key, slipped it into his pocket and followed Tom down to
supper. A moment after when Horace went to return the sweater to its
place he found that he was too late. After a second of indecision he
opened his own trunk and hid the garment down at the bottom of it. Then
he locked the trunk securely and, with Otto at his heels, followed the
others.

It was at half-past nine the next morning