im jail, where they cracked rock and thought of their
cracked bones till long after Pretty's Christmas vacation was over.

As for Enid, I will leave you to guess whether or no she thought
Pretty the greatest hero of his age,--or any age,--and whether or no
she gossiped his bravery all around Lakerim long after the Dozen were
away again in Kingston.

XXII

The night before the Lakerim contingent went back to the Kingston
Academy, another grand reception was given in their honor at the
club-house; and the Dozen made more speeches and assumed an air of
greater magnificence than ever.

But, nevertheless, they were just a trifle sorry that they had to
leave their old happy hunting-ground. But there was some consolation
in the thought that the life at the Academy would not be one
glittering revel of studies and classes. For the Dozen believed, as
it believed nothing else, that all play and no work makes Jack a dull
boy.

The general average of the Dozen in the matter of studies was
satisfactory enough; for, while Sleepy was always at the bottom of his
classes, and probably the laziest and stupidest of all the students
at Kingston, History was certainly at the head of his classes, and
probably the most brilliant of all the students at Kingston.

With these two at the opposite poles, the rest of the Dozen worked
more or less hard and faithfully, and kept a very decent pace.

But the average attainment of the Dozen in the field of athletics was
far more than satisfactory.

It was brilliant.

For, while there was one man (History) who was not quite the all-round
athlete of the universe, and was not good at anything more muscular
than chess and golf, the eleven others had each his specialty and his
numerous interests.

They believed, athletically, in knowing everything about something,
and something about everything.

* * * * *

The winter went blustering along, piling up snows and melting them
again, only to pile up more again. And the wind raved in very
uncertain humors. But, snow or thaw, the Dozen was never at a loss to
know what to do.

Finally January was gone, and February, that sawed-off month, was
dawdling along its way toward that great occasion which gives it its
chief excuse for being on the calendar--Washington's Birthday.

From time immemorial it had been the custom at Kingston to celebrate
the natal anniversary of the Father of his Country with all sorts of