he edge of the shed roof, but the girl with the red hair was
not in sight.

At supper Roy found a decided change in the attitude of the fellows
toward him. Instead of the friendly, half curious glances of the night
before, the looks he received were cold and contemptuous. For the most
part, however, the fellows avoided noticing him and all during the meal
only Jack Rogers and Mr. Cobb addressed him, the former to inquire where
he had played football before coming to Ferry Hill and the latter to
offer him a second helping of cold meat. Later Roy accidentally
overheard a conversation not intended for his ears. He was in the study
room, whither he had taken his books. The window beside him was open and
under it, on the granite steps outside, was a group of the younger boys.

"Emmy called them to the office at noon," one boy was saying, "and
raised an awful row with them. Said hazing was forbidden, and they knew
it, and that he had a good mind to send them all home. He tried to get
them to tell who started it, but they wouldn't. So he put them all on
inner bounds for a month."

"How'd he know who was in it?" asked another boy.

"Why, the new chap squealed, of course!" was the contemptuous answer.
"Horace Burlen says so. Says he doesn't know how he guessed the other
fellows, but supposes he recognized him by his voice. A mighty dirty
trick, I call it."

"That's the way with those public school fellows," said a third speaker.
"They haven't any principles."

"It's going to just about bust up the eleven," said the first boy. "Why,
there's Burlen and Ferris and Gus Pryor and Billy Warren all football
men!"

"Mighty little difference Otto Ferris's absence will make, though."

"Oh, he'd have made the team this year, all right."

"Well, a month isn't very long. They'll get back in time to play the big
games."

"S'posing they do, silly! How about practice? If Hammond beats us this
year it will be that Porter fellow's fault."

"I don't believe he told on them," said a low voice that Roy recognized
as Sidney Welch's. "He--he doesn't look like that sort!"

"Doesn't, eh? Then who did tell? Think they peached on themselves?" was
the scathing reply. "You'd better not let Horace hear you talking like
that, Sid!"

Roy stole away to a distant table with burning cheeks and clenched
hands.

When bedtime came things were even worse. All the time he was undressing
he was aware that he was the subject of much of the whispered di