mile. "Just shut off your gas,
throw back your spark, and put on the brakes. You're skidding a bit."

"Aw, say, I want to be in on it," begged the small chap earnestly.

"Oh, you will be all right," Jack assured him.

"The whole Sophomore class will be in it when we give those fellows the
lesson they need."

"I'd--I'd like to------" began Bert energetically as he clenched his
fists and look at the departing car, which was now almost hidden in a
cloud of dust. "I'm going to------"

"Hold on," broke in Tom soothingly. "Let me prescribe for you, Bertie
my boy," and taking his arm he steered his chum around and toward the
little shack where Pop Swab held forth.

As they filed into the little building two other school lads passed by.

"What's going on?" asked Bruce Bennington, one of the twain.

"Oh, it's Tom Fairfield and some of his chums," answered Morse Denton.
"I don't know just what the row is, but I heard that Sam Heller and
Nick Johnson played some kind of a mean trick on Tom and Bert and Jack
this summer. I don't just know the particulars."

"That's so," agreed Bruce. "I did hear something about it. Feel like
having some pop?"

"Not now, and if any of those fellows expect to make the eleven this
fall I'll have to make them cut it out."

"Right! How's football coming on?"

"Oh, I've got some good material, and I expect more when the new
fellows begin to arrive."

"Going to play Tom Fairfield?"

"I sure am, if he'll train properly, and I think he will. I want him
for one of the backs. He's a sure ground gainer, quick on his feet, he
holds the ball fast and he can kick well."

"I hope he makes good," went on Bruce. "Well, I'm going to cut away.
I want to see the doctor, and arrange about my studies."

The two strolled over the green campus, arm in arm, and they had hardly
gone a dozen steps before, from the little store of Pop Swab, there
come pouring Tom and his friends, all talking at once.

"That's what we'll do!"

"A class matter of it--sure!"

"We'll work the Coventry game to the limit!"

"And if it comes to a fight----"

"They'll get all they want!"

These were only a few of the remarks that came to the ears of Bruce and
Morse.

"Something doing back there," remarked the football captain, nodding
his head toward the rear.

"Yes," agreed Bruce, "and I don't like it, either."

"Why not? It's only Tom and his chums talking over what they're going
to do to Sam and Nick, I