what it was, crimson," said the farmer.

"But I didn't wear it yesterday. I haven't had it on since camp."

"Have you loaned it to any one recently?" asked the Doctor.

"No, sir."

"Where is it kept?"

"In my trunk."

"Could any one borrow it without your knowing of it?"

"Why, I suppose so, sir; that is, if my trunk was unlocked."

"Do you keep it unlocked?"

"No, sir, not very often."

"Then you think it would have been impossible for anyone to have taken
it without your knowledge?"

"I think it would, sir."

"Do you know of anyone else in school who has a red sweater?"

"No, sir. Gallup has a red and white striped one."

"There wasn't no stripes on the one I saw," said Farmer Mercer
decidedly.

"Porter," said the Doctor after a moment's silence. "I'm sorry that I
can't bring myself to believe your story. Is there anyone who can
substantiate it? Were you alone yesterday afternoon?"

"I'm sorry, sir, that you won't believe me. I wasn't on this man's land
yesterday, and I don't think I ever was. Anyhow, I never fished on it.
I've never fished since I came here."

"I hope you are telling the truth," answered the Doctor gently. "But
circumstantial evidence is sadly against you. There is no one who can
prove that you were at the Deep Hole at four o'clock?"

"No, sir, no one knows that I was there at that time." Chub, he
reflected, had left him at least a quarter of an hour before and so
couldn't have been sure of his whereabouts at four o'clock.

"Hm! That's unfortunate," said the Doctor. He turned to Farmer Mercer.
"I don't think I need trouble you to remain, sir. I regret deeply that
this has occurred and assure you that punishment will be justly meted
out to the culprit."

The farmer arose.

"It's got to be stopped, Doctor," he said. "As for the culprit you've
got him right here. That's the boy without a doubt. Put him in his red
sweater and I'll tell you mighty quick. Just about his height he was,
and kinder slimmish like. Well, you know you own business best. Good
morning, Doctor."

And the farmer passed out with a final ugly look at Roy.

CHAPTER XXIII

ON INNER BOUNDS

By noon the news was all over school: Roy Porter was on inner bounds for
the rest of the term!

"Emmy told him," confided Sid importantly to a group of Juniors and
Middlers awaiting the dinner summons on the steps of Burgess, "that if
it wasn't for his good record all year he would have suspended him!"

"Ge