what?" asked several of the others.
"Why Poole and Plum didn't show themselves while the racket was going on in Haskers's room. They came in here and fixed us up."
"It must be so," said Phil, "for I know my bed was all right before."
Dave leaped noiselessly to the door and threw it open. Nobody was outside, but he heard a door at a distance close softly.
"Somebody was out there. He just ran off," he declared.
"Come on," said Roger, and tiptoed his way into the semi-dark hall, followed by Dave and Phil. They made their way to the door of the dormitory in which Poole and Plum belonged. They heard a rustle and the faint creaking of two beds.
"We've found them all right," whispered the senator's son. "The question is, what shall we do in return?"
"Wait," advised Dave. "We've had enough for one night. Let us get to bed."
The others were willing, and so they returned to their own room. The burs were cleared away, and in a few minutes more all of the lads were in the land of dreams.
In the morning, on entering the classroom, the students found Job Haskers heavy-eyed and in anything but a pleasant humor. He called one class after another to order in a sharp, jerky voice, and gave the pupils demerit marks upon the slightest provocation. As a result Dave, Phil, and eight other students suffered in their general average.
"How I wish Dr. Clay would get rid of him," sighed Phil.
"And get another teacher like Mr. Dale to take his place," said Dave. All the boys loved Andrew Dale, who was as pleasant as he was capable.
It was not until two days later that Roger met Bob Lapham. The farm boy said his father had heard nothing more of the burglars and the stolen silverware, and had come to the conclusion that little could be done in the matter.
"It is too bad," said the senator's son. "I do hope he gets his stuff back some day."
Although Dave was out for fun and sport, it must not be thought that he neglected his studies. As my old readers know, he was a youth who put his whole heart and soul into whatever he was doing, and this applied to his lessons as well as to everything else. In the past he had kept close to the top of his class, and he was resolved to retain that position or do still better.
"I came to learn something," he said, more than once. "I am not going to neglect my lessons, no matter what is in the air."
"But you'll join our football team, won't you?" asked the senator's son, who was looked upon as the leader in that sport by nearly all the old football players.
"I will if you want me to, Roger. But you know I am not an extra good player. Baseball is my game, not football."
"But we want you to play the position you took last year, when you made that victorious run."
"Very well. What of the other fellows?"
"Ben will be quarter-back as before, and Phil a half-back, and Sam right tackle. I haven't made up my mind about the others yet, although I think I'll try Shadow for center and Buster for guard."
"What do you think of the team Gus Plum has organized?"
"Well, to tell the truth, Dave, I think some of his fellows play pretty good football," answered Roger, in a low voice, so that no outsider might hear him.
"Just what I think. Henshaw is a dandy quarter-back, and Babcock makes a good, heavy tackle. We ought to have them on our team – if we are to play Rockville."
"Well, I would ask them to join us, only if I do that, Plum will say I am trying to steal his men from him."
The next morning came a surprise. Roger received a challenge from the Arrows to play a game of football the very next Saturday afternoon. Nat Poole delivered the paper, and his face had a superior smile on it as he did so.
"Why, Poole, we are not in trim to play yet," said Roger. "We need more practice."
"Afraid to play us, eh?" sneered the aristocratic youth. "I thought so."
"I am not afraid. Make it three weeks from now and I'll accept."
"No, you must play this week or not at all. If you won't play we'll challenge the Rockville fellows."
With this declaration Nat Poole hurried away, leaving the senator's son much worried. As Roger had said, his team needed practice. They were all good players individually, but team work is what counts in a modern game of football. He went to consult his friends.
"We can't do it," said Sam, shaking his head. "Why, some of us scarcely know the new rules yet, much less our signals."
"We need at least two weeks of good, snappy practice," put in another of the players. "None of us are hard enough yet."
"This is a plan to get us into a hole," declared Dave. "If we back out Plum will challenge the Rockville boys and make out that his eleven is the representative one from this school. It's just like one of his dirty tricks."
The boys talked the matter over a good hour, and finally a vote was taken.
"I say play," declared Dave. "Let us practise all we possibly can. If we are beaten we can immediately send a challenge for another game on the Saturday following."
So it was at last decided, although Roger, Phil, and Sam were still doubtful. They declared it was taking a big risk and that if they lost they would never hear the end of it.
In the meantime Gus Plum was laughing in his sleeve, as the popular saying goes, feeling certain that Roger's eleven would not accept the challenge. Three of the players who had formerly played on the team of the senator's son had left Oak Hall, and that meant the substitution of green hands from whom it was not known what to expect.
"They'll crawl out of it," declared Nat Poole, as he and the bully of the Hall and a student named Jasniff talked it over. Jasniff was a newcomer at Oak Hall, a fellow with a squint in one eye and a manner that few of the boys cared to tolerate, although, strange to say, it pleased Plum and Poole. Jasniff smoked, and played pool when he got the chance, and so did they, and, in addition, the new student was fond of drinking and horse races, – a poor sort of a companion for any youth who wanted to make a man of himself.
"You've got them dead to rights," said Nick Jasniff. "They'll crawl, see if they don't."
"I'll give them until Thursday to accept," said Gus Plum. "If they don't, I'll send a challenge to Rockville on Friday."
"Will Rockville play us?" asked Poole. "They may put up some sort of a kick."
"I'll let them know how matters stand," answered the bully of the Hall, with a suggestive wink. "If Morr's crowd won't play us, then we are the representative team of the Hall, aren't we?"
As the bully ceased speaking, Dave and Roger walked up to the three other boys.
"Here's our answer to that challenge, Plum," said the senator's son, and held out a paper.
"I presume you decline to play us," sneered the bully, as he took the note.
"On the contrary we take pleasure in accepting the challenge," said Dave.
CHAPTER
