now those places were
given to others.

Roger and Phil had arrived the day before, and were already settled, and
now they did what they could to make Dave at home, assisting him in
unpacking his trunk and his suit-case, and putting the things away in
the bureau and the clothes closet. Of course Dave had brought along some
pictures and banners, and these were hung up or set on the bureau--that
is, all but one photograph--one of Jessie she had given him the day
before. That he kept to himself, in his private drawer with a few other
treasures, under lock and key.

"Hello, Dave; can I help you?" came a voice from the doorway, and Gus
Plum appeared. The former bully of the Hall was a trifle thin and pale,
but his eyes were clear and his voice pleasant to hear.

"Why, Gus, how are you!" cried Dave, and shook hands warmly. "Did you
have a good time this summer?"

"Quite good," answered Plum. "You know I went up to Maine with Mr. Dale.
He took up half a dozen fellows, and we went in for botany and geology
while we were camping out."

"Well, I guess Mr. Dale is good company," answered Dave. He referred to
Andrew Dale, the first assistant teacher of the school, a man well
beloved by nearly all the students. Every summer this teacher took out
some of the boys, and there was always a rivalry as to who should go
along.

"It was better than just--er--knocking around," stammered Gus Plum. He
meant carousing around with fellows of the Merwell and Jasniff sort, and
Dave understood. He hesitated for a moment and looked around, to see if
anybody but Phil and Roger were in the rooms. "Of course, you know Nat
Poole is back," he continued, in a low voice.

"Yes,--I saw him leave Crumville."

"Dave, you want to beware of him." Gus Plum uttered the words very
earnestly.

"Oh, I am not afraid of Nat--never was."

"Yes, but this is different, Dave. I suppose you know there are a lot of
new fellows at Oak Hall this year."

"There are new fellows every year--the seniors go and the freshies come
in."

"Yes, but this year we have more new fellows than ever. A school in
Laverport broke up, and sixteen of the students were transferred to Oak
Hall--sophs, juniors, and seniors. So those fellows, added to the
freshies, make quite a bunch."

"What has that got to do with Poole and me?"

"Nat Poole and one of the fellows from Laverport, a chap named Guy
Frapley, are very good friends--in fact, I think they are related. This
Frapley was