LITMIR.BIZ

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Ze tree shall not be blown to atoms! I will drape it wiz my country’s flag.”

      From his coat the French professor drew the tri-colored flag, which he draped over the lowest branches of the old tree. Then, as the red fire died out, the boys saw the German make a spring for his enemy.

      “Come on, fellows!” softly called Jack. “We’d better skip while they’re at one another.”

      They glided from the bushes, while at the foot of the tree, in the dying glow from the red fire, could be seen two shapes struggling desperately together. From the midst came such alternate expressions as:

      “Ach! Pig-dog! Frog-eater! Sauerkraut! Maccaroni! Himmel! Sacre! La Fayette!”

      “Oh, but aren’t they having a grand time!” said Nat as he hurried along at Jack’s side. “It worked like a charm. But who would have thought that Socrat would have brought along a pail of water?”

      “Couldn’t have been better,” admitted Jack, “if I do say it myself.”

      “But won’t they find out who did it?” asked Bony.

      “They may suspect, but they’ll never know for sure,” said the perpetrator of the trick.

      “How about the bundle of papers you left in the tree?”

      “Nothing but newspapers, and they can’t talk. But I guess we’ve livened things up some. Anyhow, they’ve spoken to each other.”

      “They sure have,” admitted Sam, as from the darkness, at the foot of the tree, came the sounds of voices in high dispute.

      The next day Professor Socrat passed Professor Garlach without so much as a look in the direction of the German, but when he got past he muttered:

      “Ze La Fayette tree still stands.”

      And Professor Garlach replied:

      “Pig-dog vot you are! To destroy dot secret of history!”

      Jack and his chums awaited rather anxiously the calling of the French and German classes that day, but neither professor made any reference to the happenings of the night previous. All there was to remind a passer-by of it were some shreds of a French flag hanging to the limbs of the tree.

      “They must have ripped the flag apart in their struggle with each other,” said Sam as he and Jack passed the place.

      Matters at Washington Hall went on the even tenor of their ways for about two weeks. The boys buckled down to study, though there was plenty of time for sport, and the football eleven, of which Jack was a member, played several games.

      The weather was getting cold and snappy, and there were signs of an early and severe winter. These signs were borne out one morning when Jack crawled out of bed.

      “Whew! but it’s cold!” he said as he pulled aside the window curtains and looked out. Then he uttered an exclamation. “Say, Nat, it’s snowing to beat the band!”

      “Snowing?”

      “Sure, and I’ve got to go to the village this afternoon. Look!”

      Nat crawled out, shivering, and stood beside Jack.

      “Why, it is quite a storm,” he admitted. “B-r-r-r-r! I’m going to get my flannels out!”

      “No football game to-morrow,” said Jack. “I guess winter’s come to stay.”

      CHAPTER VII

      A STRANGE CONFESSION

      “Say, Jack,” began Nat at breakfast a little later, “what are you going to the village for?”

      “Got to get something Aunt Angelina sent me,” replied our hero. “I got a letter saying she had forwarded me a package by express. It’s got some heavy underwear in it for one thing, but I know enough of my aunt to know that’s not all that’s in it.”

      “What else?”

      “Well, I shouldn’t be surprised if there were some pies and doughnuts and cakes and – ”

      “Quit!” begged Bony, who sat on the other side of Jack. “You make me hungry.”

      “What’s the matter with this grub?” inquired Jack.

      “Oh, it’s all right as far as it goes – ”

      “Smithering slaboleens!” exclaimed Nat. “Doesn’t it go far enough in you, Bony?” and he looked at his tall chum. “Do you want it to go all the way to your toes?”

      “No; but when I hear Jack speak of pies and doughnuts – ”

      “You’ll do more than hear me speak of them if they come, Bony,” went on Jack. “We’ll have a little feast in my room to-night, when Martin, the monitor, is gone to bed.”

      “When are you going?” asked Nat.

      “Right after dinner. Want to come along? I guess you can get permission. I did.”

      “Nope. I’ve got to stay here and bone up on geometry. I flunked twice this week, and Doc. Mead says I’ve got to do better. Take Bony.”

      “Not for mine,” said Bony, shivering as he looked out of the window and saw the snow still coming down. “I’m going to stay in.”

      “Then I’ll go alone,” decided Jack, and he started off soon after the midday meal. The storm was not a severe one, though it was cold and the snow was quite heavy. It was a good three-mile walk to the village, but Jack had often taken it.

      He was about a mile from the school, and was swinging along the country road, thinking of many things, when, through the white blanket of snowflakes, he saw a figure just ahead of him on the highway.

      “That looks familiar,” he said to himself. “That’s Will Williams. Wonder what he can be doing out here? Guess he’s going to town also. I’ll catch up with him. I wish I could get better acquainted with him, but he goes in his shell as soon as I try to make friends.”

      He hastened his pace, but it was slow going on account of the snow. When Jack was about a hundred yards behind Will he was surprised to see the odd student suddenly turn off the main road and make toward a chain of small hills that bordered it on the right.

      “That’s queer,” murmured Jack. “I wonder what he’s doing that for?”

      He stood still a moment, looking at Will. The new boy kept on, plodding through the snow, which lay in heavy drifts over the unbroken path he was taking.

      “Why, he’s heading for the ravine,” said Jack to himself. “He’ll be lost if he goes there in this storm, and it’s dangerous. He may fall down the chasm and break an arm or a leg.”

      The ravine he referred to was a deep gully in the hills, a wild, desolate sort of place, seldom visited. It was in the midst of thick woods, and more than once solitary travelers had lost their way there, while one or two, unfamiliar with the suddenness with which the chasm dipped down, had fallen and been severely hurt.

      “What in the world can he want out there?” went on Jack. “I’d better hail him. Guess he doesn’t know the danger, especially in a storm like this, when bad holes are likely to be hidden from sight.”

      He hurried forward, and then, making a sort of megaphone of his hands, called out:

      “Williams! I say, Williams, where are you going?”

      The new boy turned quickly, looked back at Jack, and then continued his journey.

      “Hey! Come back!” yelled our hero. “You’ll be lost if you go up in those hills. It’s dangerous! Come on back!”

      Williams stopped again, and turned half around.

      “Guess he didn’t hear me plainly,” thought Jack. “I’ll catch up to him. Wait a minute,” he called again, and he hastened forward, Will waiting for him.

      “Where are you going?” asked Jack, when he had caught up to him.

      “I don’t know,” was the answer,

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