il, and the others
floundering just as vainly.

A cheer went up for Tom's team, while Rockley and his followers left
the field in disgust.

"It was well won, Tom!" said Dick enthusiastically. "I never saw a
better tug of war in my life."

"I'd like to know who threw that pepper," answered Tom, with an angry
glance toward Lew Flapp and his cronies.

"Did somebody throw pepper?" asked Mr. Strong.

"I think they did, although I'm not sure. Anyway, something came along
and made the most of us sneeze."

"It's too bad, Rover. I'll try to make sure of this," said the teacher.
But though he made an investigation nothing came of it.

Some of the cadets were so delighted with the success of Tom's team
that they took Tom on their shoulders and marched around the entire
encampment with him.

"I tell you, Rockley feels sore," said Sam, a little later.

"Around the belt?" asked Tom with a grin.

"I mean in his mind. He and Lew Flapp are having a regular quarrel over
the contest. I guess Flapp lost some money."

"Perhaps, if he has, it will cure him of betting," put in Dick.

Sam and Tom had received permission to go to the upper end of the lake
in one of the rowboats on the following afternoon. Songbird Powell and
Fred Garrison went along, and all took their fishing outfits and plenty
of bait.

"Bring home a nice mess of fish," said Dick, on parting with his
brothers. "Sorry I can't go with you."

"Oh, you'll have company enough," declared Sam. "I heard that some of
the country folks are going to visit the encampment to-day and perhaps
those Staton girls will be among them."

The four boys were soon on the way, two rowing at a time. The weather
was ideal, and the water as smooth as that of a mill pond.

"What a beautiful spot this is," declared Fred, as they glided long.
"I'm sure Captain Putnam could not have selected a better."

"I have already gotten some splendid pictures," returned Powell, who
possessed a good snap-shot camera, now lying on the stern seat of the
boat. "I'm going to take some more pictures to-day."

On the way to the upper end of the lake Sam did a little fishing and
brought in one bass of fair size.

"This makes a fellow feel like a true poet," murmured Powell, gazing
dreamily at the water, and then he went on:

"I love to glide,
By the green-clad side
Of the glassy lake,
And there to take
My ease with book
Or line and hook,
And spend the day
Far, far away