willing to do anything that can be done to make him eat humble pie."
"I owe him a whole lot – and so do you," continued the bully of Oak Hall, bitterly. "Don't you remember how he treated us at the athletic contests, and down at the boathouse? It makes me boil every time I think of it!"
"Yes, and the tricks he and his cronies played on us," returned Nat Poole. "Gus, I'll do anything – so long as we are not caught at it."
"I'd like to fix him so he'd be disgraced before the whole school." Gus Plum's voice sank to a hoarse whisper.
"Can we do it?"
"Maybe we can," was the answer.
And there and then, two days before Dave got back to Oak Hall, these two unworthies plotted to disgrace him and leave a smirch upon his fair name.
CHAPTER III
DAVE'S RETURN TO OAK HALL
The carryall containing Dave and his friends soon left Oakdale behind and was bowling swiftly along over the smooth highway leading to Oak Hall. The boys were all inside, leaving the driver to manage his team in any way that suited him. Usually they loved to torment Horsehair, as they called him, but now they had other matters on their minds.
"The same old Plum," said Ben, with a sigh. "Doesn't it make one weary to listen to him?"
"Better try to forget him, and Nat Poole too," answered Dave.
"That is easier said than done," said Shadow Hamilton. "Which puts me in mind of a story. There was once – "
"He is bound to tell 'em," came, with a groan, from Sam Day.
"Never mind; go ahead, Shadow," said Dave. "Sam said you could start in after we were on board, and I'd rather hear a story than discuss Plum and Poole."
"You were talking about forgetting Plum. One day a boy got into his mother's pantry and stole some preserved plums. When the plums were found missing the boy's mother caught him and cuffed his ears in good style. Then the boy went outside and his chum told him to stop crying. 'Forget that your mother cuffed you,' said the other boy. 'I ain't thinkin' of that,' answered the boy who had stolen the plums. 'Then stop crying.' 'I can't.' 'Why not?' asks the other boy. 'Because the plums was hot an' I kin feel 'em all along my throat yit.'" And at this anecdote a smile passed around.
"I suppose football is being talked about," observed Ben, after a brief pause.
"Yes, some of the boys are playing already," answered Sam Day. "I have been waiting for Roger to get back. He was captain of our eleven last season, you'll remember."
"Yes, and you were right tackle."
"Do you suppose we'll get another challenge from the Rockville Military Academy?"
"Sure we will," burst out Shadow. "They'll want to wipe out the defeat of last year."
"Gus Plum has organized a football team of his own," observed Sam. "He has got Poole and a lot of new students in it. They call themselves the Arrows, and one boy told me they were going to have suits with arrows embroidered on them."
"By the way, what of Chip Macklin?" asked Dave.
"He is around and as bright as a button," answered Sam. "It is simply wonderful what a change there is in that chap since he cut away from Plum."
"Oh, look at the apples!" cried out Ben, as the carryall made a turn in the road. He pointed to a tree in a field loaded with the fruit. "Wish I had one."
"You won't get any there," declared Shadow. "That's Mike Marcy's field and he keeps any number of dogs."
"Well, I never!" burst out Sam, feeling down under the seat. "If you hadn't spoken I should have forgotten them entirely." He brought out a bag containing a dozen big red apples. "I bought them while we were waiting for the train. Here, boys, help yourselves." And he passed them around.
"Thank you, Sam," said Dave, as he bit into one of the apples. "This is fine." And the others said the same.
Each had his story to tell, and Sam and Shadow listened with eager interest while Dave told of his long trip across the Pacific, and his many adventures since he had left the academy.
"Sounds almost like a fairy tale," declared Sam. "I'd like to see something of the world myself."
The carryall made another turn and came in sight of the river, dotted here and there with small craft. Along the shore grew some bushes and a few trees.
"I see some of the fellows are out rowing," observed Dave. "I'd like to go out myself some day, before it gets too cold."
The carryall was passing a point where the road was considerably higher than the surface of the stream. Dave had bitten into a second apple, that proved to be wormy. Now he leaned out of the carryall and sent the fruit spinning down through the bushes toward the river.
"Hi! hi!" came back a voice from the shore below. "Who hit me?"
"Gracious, I must have hit somebody!" exclaimed Dave. "I didn't mean to do it."
"What's the matter?" demanded the driver, pulling his team in.
"You needn't stop," answered Ben. "Dave threw an apple away, that's all."
"I've got to fix the harness – there's a strap loose," went on Lemond, and leaped to the ground. He was at work when a man appeared, climbing up the river bank through the bushes. It was Job Haskers, one of the assistant teachers at the Hall, the only instructor the students did not like.
"Ha! so some of you played a trick on me, eh?" fumed Job Haskers, as he emerged upon the road and strode toward the carryall. "Nice doings, I must say!"
"Did the apple hit you, Mr. Haskers?" asked Dave, mildly.
"Did it hit me? I should say it did, right on top of the head."
"I am sorry, sir."
"So you threw it, Porter. I am amazed that you would dare do such a thing."
"I didn't know you were down there – in fact, I didn't know anybody was there."
"A likely story," sneered the teacher, who was very often hot-headed and unreasonable.
"I am telling the truth, sir," and Dave's face flushed.
"I cannot go out for a quiet stroll by the river side but somebody must hit me in the head with a hard apple," growled the instructor. "Have you just arrived?"
"Yes, sir."
"You ought to be more careful of what you are doing."
"As I said before, I didn't know anybody was down there."
"I presume you didn't want to see me." The teacher turned to all of the boys. "Where did you get those apples?" he asked, suspiciously.
"I bought them in Oakdale," answered Sam.
"Haven't been stopping at some orchard on the way?"
"You may ask Mr. Cassello, the fruit man, if you don't believe me," and Sam drew himself up.
"Well, be more careful
